Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.

The title of this post comes from Garrison Keillor's daily Writer's Almanac. He signs off with it after reading a poem. So here's one.

Today is, for all intents and purposes, the final day of our Israel/Greece excursion.
Tomorrow is a travel day.
We'll arrive home tanned, rested, and (I think) smarter and wiser.
With a bit more perspective. 
We've enjoyed each other's company.
We'll also be ready for a little less togetherness. 
In a couple of weeks, the kids will be back in school.
The Jewish High Holidays will soon be upon us.
And, before we know it, October 2 will have arrived.
Sam's bar mitzvah day.
The bar mitzvah was the original impetus for this vacation
But it has turned into something much more than that.
I'm not able to put it into words.
Except to say that I love my family truly, madly, and deeply.
We have wonderful, generous old friends.
And some wonderful, generous new ones.
Oh, what lucky little people we are!

Athens city center

Looking toward the Acropolis

They still stage opera here, 2,500 years after....

Samuelis enters the gate

Acropoli columnus

Ditto

Perspiring Jewboy Meets Athena at Her Temple. Film at 11.

Oedipus Wrecks?

Morgane and Ella...and friends.

Prof. Sherman & Assistant Professor Yanni Iobbi-Copp on the Greek Gods @ the Acropolis

Professor Sam Sherman & Assistant Professor Yanni Iobbi-Copp, on the Acropolis, explain how Athena was born from the head of Zeus....

Prof. Sherman & Friends at Poseidon's Temple

Prof. Sherman receives an assist from some friends at Cape Sounion....

How to Do Something While Doing Nothing in Athens

We arrived in Athens early Sunday morning and were greeted by Kevin at the airport for the ride home.

The basic reason for our visit here was not to do more touring but, rather, to visit with our old friends. Kevin and Valerie had lived in DC in the early 1990s, while we were all getting started in our careers and married lives. We sort of grew up together as couples. We knew each other before we had kids and we had big dreams and ambitions.

Somehow, the big dreams and ambitions worked out. By the mid-90s Kevin and Valerie had moved to Germany to purse their dream of a life in Europe. Morgane came into the world just a bit after that. Killian, a few years later. Meanwhile, Jen and I remained in DC pursuing our dream of repairing the world. For Jen, this means repairing it person-by-person. For me, it means repairing government. Sam came into the world about a year after Morgane. Ella followed about a year or so after Killian. And so, we all had these babies that needed attention.

The Copps and Shermans stayed in contact over the years but didnt' see much of each other. But the bond had been established and the fates were sealed.

In 2009, the Copps moved to Athens. So, sensing an opportunity because we were already going to be in Israel -- not terribly far from Greece -- we created the Athens excursion.

The priority, therefore, has been on reconnecting with our friends and we've accomplished that goal in a big way. We've done a fair amount of just hanging out over the past couple of days, eating, drinking, laughing, remembering. Letting the kids get to know each other better. On Sunday, we chilled at the Copp villa in Kifissia, partaking of the pool and Valerie's exquisite eggplant parmesan and stuffed tomatoes.

The Copp villa rises above Kifissia...

Remember: It's Greece so almost every place has an interesting history. Kifissia dates back to ancient times, along with the ancient municipality of Epicephesia. It was the home of the famous dramatist Menander (circa 342-291 BC).[3] Kifissia had become a famous retreat of philosophers during the reign of the Roman emperor Hadrian, when the wealthy Herodes Atticus of Marathon, Greece built the Villa Kifissia.

On Monday, we ventured to the beach at Marathon. Marathon (Demotic Greek: Μαραθώνας, Marathónas; Attic/ Katharevousa: Μαραθών, Marathṓn) is an ancient Greek city-state, a contemporary town in Greece, the site of the battle of Marathon in 490 BC, in which the heavily outnumbered Athenian army defeated the Persians. It's also a place known for sponsoring running races of long distances. To wit: The Marathon Marathon :o)

Frankly, we were just there to sunbathe and eat, which we did in quantity. The Shermans learned that beaches in Greece come with seaside tavernas serving all kinds of great fare and encouraging sloth. I should also add that this venture required driving through the hills of the coast and that Mark was, therefore, assigned the task of driving the manual transmission VW Polo while Kevin drove the automatic transmission Company Car. Now, Mark hasn't driven a manual in, oh, about 17 years, so this was an adventure, especially for Jennifer. But, after a few stalls, failures to release the parking break, and the loss of a hubcap it all went swimmingly.

"Dude, where's my hubcap?" (Fahrfegnugen!)

(About that hubcap: Kevin has many talents, among which is a photgraphic memory. While cavorting at the beach, he related that he'd seen the hubcap fly off at a particular spot on the road (the Shermans were oblivious to the episode, preoccupied as we were with operating the manual transmission) and that he would retrieve it on the way back home. Indeed, following our surf time, about two-thirds of the way back to the compound, Kevin pulled the Company Car to the side of the road, turned on hazard lights, waited for traffic to pass, hopped out of Company Car, scurried to the opposite side of the narrow road, and retrieved the VW hubcap. The hubcap, none too pleased about having missed the ride to the beach, ask Kevin "Vhat took you zo long?" Meanwhile, the Shermans were awed, entertained, and thankful.)

Athena at Poseidon's temple, Cape Sounion

Copp and Sherman Units descend the promontory to the deep blue sea.

 Beware: Seaside tavernas encourage the Mediterranean diet!

Ella and Killian think that life really sucks in Athens.

On Tuesday, we explored Cape Sounion,a promontory located 43 miles southeast of Athens, at the southernmost tip of the Attica peninsula in Greece, on the Aegean. It is the site of ruins of an ancient temple of Poseidon, the god of the sea. After oohing and aahing at the pretty spectacular and simple ruin, the family Copp led the family Sherman down the steep and stony seaside cliff onto the rocks and a into the extraordinarily clear and indigo Aegean waters. Swimming with Poseidon's spirit is pretty cool! Then, more great food at a(nother) seaside taverna down the road and, on the way back to Athens, a stop at the Glyfada beach for a sunset swim, libation, and backgammon lesson.

'Gammon Master Morgane (aka "The Goddaughter") teaches the neophytes

The beach at Glyfada: Enough said.

These languid, sun washed Athens summer days....

"Ashley the 'It Girl'" Invades the Holy Land....

And now for something completely different! Ella's "Ashley the 'It Girl'" comes to the Caves of Qumran Cafeteria...

Sounds Like Greek to Us

So, we wrapped up the Israel leg of the journey a couple of days ago and are now in Athens visiting with our friends, the Copps -- Kevin, Valerie, Morgane (my goddaughter), and Killian.

We spent our final day in the Holy Land being very unholy.  First, we said our goodbyes to Rikki and Dubie at the Safed Inn, packed up the car, and drove 2.5 hours south to Ben Gurion airport to drop off our rental car -- all on Shabbat.  How unholy. I'm sure the Lord will find a way to punish us.

We cabbed from the airport to a hotel on HaYarkon Street in north central Tel Aviv, across the street from the beach, for a final afternoon of Mediterranean surf time with several thousand of our closest friends.  We scouted for some lounge chairs and an umbrella, paid our 20 shekels for the privilege, and then dipped.  After that, we didn't see the kids for about three hours.  They swam.  Jen read.  I vegged. (It was the Day of Rest, after all.)

In the evening, we celebrated Havdala (the end of the sabbath) by obtaining a truly authentic Middle Eastern meal of burgers, fries, sangria, and sodas, at the Agadir Burger Bar on Nachalat Binyamin Street.  Sam was pleasantly shocked that he was able to have a large burger topped with both cheese (thou shalt not boil a kid in its mother's milk) and -- don't say it -- yes--- BACON! AGGGHHH. WE ARE DOOMED.  BACON AND CHEESE ON A BEEF BURGER IN TEL AVIV? WERE WE MAD? WERE WE REBELLING? NO, WE'RE SEMI-OBSERVANT, OVERLY SECULAR AMERICAN JEWS AND WE LIKE OUR DAMNED BACON CHEESBURGERS, OK?

And that is why we looooove Tel Aviv. 

After dinner, weighed down by our unkosher, uholy foods, we slogged back to the hotel and hit the sack.  We'd be waking up at 3:00am to get to the airport by 4:00am, three hours prior to our flight.  By 9am, we'd be in Greece.

A 7am flight to Athens from Tel Aviv cures insomnia.

Our visit to Israel was and extraordinary experience on many levels.  I need to take time to really reflect on it, so I'm not going to write about it now.  What I will say now, however, is that even though I tried not to have expectations heading into it, I did have them.  And, in most ways, those expectations were met.  In other ways, however, they were not. This is all strangely comforting.  I don't know yet how Jen and the kids feel about it, but I've gotten the sense that they feel similarly.

Rabbi Shmuel Zavel ben Moshe v' Yonina takes us back to the days of Genesis...

Rav Shmuel expounds on the wonders of the Land of Milk and Honey with the help of some friends (please ignore the vehicles)...

To the North: A Magical, Mystical Mystery Tour

So we motored north to Tzfat, or Zefat, or Tsfat, or Safed. It’s actually interesting that this little northern city has so many names, because it has multiple personalities. Highly religious, somewhat bohemian, artsy fartsy, spiritual and mystical.

This old city is poised on the slope of a mountain, It’s surrounded by Jerusalem street, but the Old City is characterized by winding alleyways and narrow streets; crumbling 500 year-old buildings; small, historic synagogues monitored by long-bearded men who look much older than they are; art galleries and artist workshops; a tourist-trap shuk; and falafel joints.

The family in shadows of the Synagogue of  Kabbalah master Rabbi Isaac Luria (1500s) in Tzfat

We’re staying at the wonderful Ruckenstein B&B/Safed Inn, which is part hostel, part B&;B, and part Inn. During the afternoon and early evening, the hits of the 1960s play on the sound system in the Inn’s public areas – the garden with hammocks, chairs, and tables; and the terrace with table and chairs. In the morning, it’s classical. After dark, it’s straight jazz. The innkeepers, Dubie and Rikki Ruckenstein are extraordinarily friendly and helpful in every way. We didn’t know them before we came here but they seem to us sort of like newly found cousins. It’s a comfortable, warm, and friendly place on the mountain above Tsfat. The location is a little weird because it’s adjacent to a large military base, but frankly, once you’re on the Inn’s grounds, you don’t really notice the base.

I came to Tsfat hoping to be enchanted with the place but, for some reason, that hasn’t happened. Tomorrow night is Shabbat and we’ll spend it in the city so maybe that will make a difference, but as of now, it just hasn’t done anything for me. It doesn’t help that we’re visiting at a time when all of the country’s yeshivas are on break so there’s an influx of ultra orthodox right now in the city which makes things really unpleasant for those of us who are less observant. They are strange to us and we are strange to them. We are of the same People, but it’s as if we are not. I think it’s possible that if we were here at a normal time of year, we’d feel much more comfortable. I’ve been told, and I’ve already observed, that the ultra orthodox residents of Tsfat, by and large, are amiable people who are easy to get along with. So, I’m going to keep an open mind and, even if during this trip, I don’t warm up to the place, I’ll leave open the possibility that it could still happen. We met a lovely potter named Daniel from whom we bought a small ceramic bottle.

Maybe upstairs, maybe downstairs... I don't know (In Tsfat)

Also, by a strange and happy coincidence, we managed to connect with David and Miriam Friedman. David is a well-known visual artist here with a gallery in the Old City and we happened upon it the other day. It turns out that he’d spoken at our shul last April and Miriam is from Baltimore and knows one of our fellow congregants very well. The real coincidence, however, is that I’d been emailing Miriam already because she teaches yoga with our DC neighbor Aviva’s sister, Joy, who lives in Tsfat. Joy offered to hook us up with a family here for Shabbat so she’d put us in touch with Miriam (Joy and her family are out of town…in the USA…while we’re here). After meeting Miriam and getting back to the Inn, I put two and two together and figured out that she was the same Miriam I’d been emailing. Pretty weird.

So, we tooled around Tsfat on Tuesday, touring a few of the old synagogues that make up the heart of the Old City.  They are small and beautiful and different: Akshekazi and Sefardic, with the bima in the middle. We found an excellent hummus and falafel joint operated by some happy Hasids. It has remained really hot -- unusual even for Israel -- so the cold beers tasted great. I've never seen Jen -- not a beer drinker normally -- drink one so fast!

For God, please go straight.  For "cheeze," please go downstairs....

Jewish grafitti (for real)

On Wednesday, we headed south to the ancient port city of Akko (Acre), just above Haifa, on the Mediterranean. We toured the ancient citadel, under which are extensive excavations of a Crusader Hospitaller fortress and the Church of St. John.  Akko wa a major Crusader port. In more recent times, under the British Mandate, the citadel served as a prison for Jewish fighters in the lead-up to the 1948 war.At the end of the day, we traveled a couple of miles north to the beach just below Nahariya so the kids could swim once again in the Med. We remained until sundown then headed back to Tsfat and its winding mountainous roads (I won't miss them).

Continuing with the Crusader theme, on Thursday, we traveled north to the Golan Heights to visit the massive and captivating Nimrod's Fortress. (More winding, mountainous roads that I won't miss.) Built in 1230 by the Muslim Sultan Othman, the Fortress was used to protect the road to Damascus which led west to the ports of Akko and Ceasarea, and east to the Silk Road. The fortress, built to protect the route from the Sixth Crusade, was even conquered briefly  by the Mongols at one point and, more recently, was occupied by French troops after the defeat of the Ottomans in World War I.  It's a brilliant structure, full of history and a great excavation. Highly recommended!

A creepy crusader tombstone at the Crusader Hospital in Akko

Ella atop the keep at Nimrod's Fortress on the road to Damascus, Golan Heights

After the Crusader crusade, we drove southeast to Mt. Bental in the Golan Heights. The Heights were taken by Israel from Syria in 1967 and have pretty much been fully annexed into the country. Bental was  a Syrian bunker and the old gun mounts are still there for tourists to gawk at.  From the top of Bental you can see Quinetra, Syria.  Israelis like tourists to see this because they want visitors to have a better understanding that the enemy is very close.  Of course, all one has to do is look at a map to understand that.  Even so, the attitude underscores Israelis' historical preoccupation with security. Still, the last time there was significant engagement with Syrian forces in a significant way was, as I recall, 1973.  So, I'm not sure the security worries are still so justified.  Frankly, to me, it seems like the bigger enemy is within.

"I can see Syria from my house!" Jen at Mt. Bental, Golan Heights

On Friday, we spent the day on the Jesus tour in the Arab city of Nazareth spending our limited time at the synagogue-church, where Jesus is said to have preached.  Sitting in this wonderful, sacred space, we listened to the Muslim call to mid-day prayer and, for a moment, we felt like we were at the center of the monotheistic world.  It was extraordinary. Then, we partook of some delicious Nazareth baklava before heading to Tiberias to meditate for ta few minutes at the tombs of Rabbi Akiva and the Rambam -- Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, or Maimondes.  It was pretty cool to visit these sites at the beginning of Shabbat.

We were tired of touring by that point, so we headed to the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee for a dip in the wonderful, calm, cool waters.

The synagogue-church in Nazareth

Then, it was back into the car and off to Tsfat for a quick change before heading into the Old City to light Shabbat candles with the Friedmans and to watch all of the ultra orthodox and other Jews make their way to the various shuls.  We were hungry by that point, and decided to catch some dinner at a fantastic Lebanese place in Jish, an Arab town just up the road.  The day was topped off by fireworks marking the end of the Muslim sabbath day.

So many experiences.....

Reflection: Driving South on Road 90. Dead Sea on the Left. Masada on the Right. Listening to “Disturbia” on Spin Jordan 93.5FM. Buying Cell Phone Minutes at the En Bokek Petra Shopping Center.

Disturbia indeed. The title of this post describes well some weirdness I’ve been experiencing on this journey.  The jolting, immediate juxtapositions of ancient and contemporary.  Sacred and profane.

We have been spending a lot of time investigating our People’s past, deep into history. Searching ruins, synagogues, and churches we have been trying to better understand who we are, where we come from and what it all means.  We have been trying to understand our religion and our spirituality.  Our responsibility.

At the same time, among and within these ancient places, we remain living in the 21^st Century.  We cannot escape it. Part of this is by choice, such as my choice to write this blog which has come with its own set of challenges (but it’s fun nevertheless).  Part of this, however, is simply the daily grind.  ATM cards and machines. Budget rent-a-car. Mobile phones.  Shopping malls.  All where Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Miriam, and Jesus walked.  How about this for shocking: Across the street from the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem is a brand new Mamilla shopping mall, complete with Gap and Crocs stores among many other fancy schmantzy places.  That’s a spiritual buzz-kill. 

"Hello, God? It's me, Shlomo."

4000 years ago there was also a daily grind.  It was just a lot slower.  Torah and, later, Mishnah, Talmud, etc. were simply ways of trying to find meaning in life and make sense of it all.  Life had its complexities to be sure, but I think we can all safely say that things were much simpler.  Life was much simpler.  A typical individual’s world was very, very small.

Today, a typical individual’s world is huge compared to our ancient ancestors.  There’s no comparison, actually. But we make the same kinds of mistakes.  (Recall that I noted that life was much simpler….not people.) And we’re still relying on concepts developed thousands of years ago to help us make sense of the world. 

I don’t think that there’s necessarily anything wrong with this, because we still haven’t figured out why we’re actually here.  In other words, no one’s come up with a better answer to the “why.” Science answers the “what” and the “how” but not the “why.” We’ve made some social progress over these few thousand years but we’ve also really screwed up and continue to do so in ways that threaten the existence of the planet; something impossible in ancient times.

Perhaps the moral of the story, then, is that at the most human intellectual, emotional, and spiritual levels we’re really no different than our ancestors. Internet, Shminternet.

The daily grind is the daily grind, whether in 2010CE or 2010BCE. As the Buddhists put it, “life is suffering.” We just keep searching for ways to lift us, as much as possible, above and beyond the daily suffering.  

I guess I should stop stop trying to make sense of it.

From Sam’s Journal: We Meet Abraham’s Servant, Eliezer, Ride Camels….and Search (and Search) for Mystic Pizza

Monday 8/2/10

Day 12

Genesis Land/Tzfat. 

We got up, got our stuff together, ate breakfast and got on the road. Today we were heading up to the far north of the country to Tzfat, the home of kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), which is also the top ultra orthodox hotspot. 

On the way, we first stopped in a huge valley. The home of Genesis Land. Now in Genesis Land, you are taken by Eliezar, Abraham’s servant atop camels to Abraham’s tent around 1800BCE. There you learn a little of what life was like being a shepherd in biblical times. 

We had dried fruit and water. We also made our own pita bread! Then my family and I had our own special lunch (courtesy of Genesis Land) without the other families! It was so delicious and great. I also did another “Professor Sherman” video. We then took camels back to the main area. Then we were off once more! 

And the Lord said "Yonina and Eliana shall ride a camel at Genesis Land!" Then he rested.

Then the Lord said: "You shall make a sacrifice of pita!" So they obeyed.

We drove for hours through the West Bank, Tiberias, and the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). Finally, we got to Tzfat and settled at the Safed (another name for Tzfat) Inn. 

Then we went to dinner. Now THAT was a saga. Mom and dad had no idea where they were going. Mom kept saying we were in the right place when we weren’t. As my grandma would say….oy. I nearly wasn’t hungry by the time we ate. After some more arguing (and they say me and Ella bicker), we finally got home. 

Exploring tomorrow,

Sam

Of 700 Steps and Boiled Chickens

It was dark, we were grumpy, and we met our guide, Yonatan in the hotel lobby.  Yonatan is a member of the kibbutz and he’d be leading us up Masada to see the sun rise and then, later, to the Ein Gedi nature reserve.  We hopped in the jeep with driver Danny at the wheel and were off.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the foot of Masada. Then we began to climb.  Again, it was hot, even before dawn.  After the first several steps up the east face of the mountain, we were all drenched with perspiration.  We stopped for water fairly frequently. About a third of the way up, dawn broke.  We were going at a moderate pace. The climb became steeper.  Most of the path consisted of stone treads and risers, which I think made the climb more difficult.  Ella and Sam remained ahead of Jennifer and me.  Yonatan stayed at the front. About two thirds of the way to the top, the sun began to rise.  A beautiful site over the hazy sea. Ten minutes later, we’d reached the top.  But, what’s this? The fence is locked? WTF? Yonatan tried yelling for a ranger at the summit. No dice.  OK, there’s no way we’re walking back down.  So, we did what all rugged Jews do: Hop the fence.  Of course, if you fall it’s about 5,000 feet down but, no worries.  Ella was easy.  She’s a feather. Sam, hardly the athlete, did OK.  Jen…well, what can we say…. She made it.  Nuff said.  I got over OK.

The Sherman Unit ascends Masada at dawn... (note sweat stains on Jen's back)

A great victory!  I was particularly proud of the kids.  They’d done extremely well going up that mountain. 

At the top, Yonatan told us the history of this great mountain: Home to Hasmonean kings, Herod, and the Romans. And, of course, site of the legendary failed Jewish revolt.  The legend holds that the 1,000 Jews on Masada all killed themselves rather than surrender to the Romans, but Yonatan indicated that only a few remains were found by archaeologists.  A mystery.   But who cares, it’s a good story. 

Sammy at Masada sunrise.

I digress.  So, Yigal Yadin and the other archaeologists did a great job of excavating the ruins, preserving, and rebuilding them.  The Northern Palace is exquisite.  Three levels with pieces of mosaic floor and faux marble preserved.  Corinthian capped columns preserved.  Huge cisterns for water, preserved.  Really extraordinary. 

'Twas to be another scorcher....

After a couple of hours, we were pooped, so we boarded the cable car for the two-minute trip back to the base of the mountain.  On the way down, Sam informed us that the climb up consisted of 700 steps.  It felt like 7,000.  I’m sorry but Jews don’t climb mountains.  We drive Lincolns.

We made it back to the kibbutz in time for breakfast at 9:30am.  Sumptuous. Then, we donned our bathing suits and sunscreen, piled back into the jeep with Danny and Yonatan and headed a tad north on 90 to the Ein Gedi Nature Reserve.  It’s difficult to describe Ein Gedi so I’ll let the photos do most of the talking.  Basically, it’s an oasis: lush greenery, multiple waterfalls, and pools fed by a natural spring.  Even after the 700 steps, we hiked to the four pools and waterfalls and, along with other fuzzy foreigners, wallowed in the cool, delicious waters.  Not a bad way to spend a 100F afternoon.

700 steps at dawn can induce sleepiness....

On the way out of Ein Gedi, we even spotted an Ibex.  An antelope-type animal that speaks Hebrew and Arabic.  

And that’s not all folks.  Following the Ein Gedi deliciousness we decided to push our luck and go the Dead Sea spa just up the road.  We said farewell to Yonatan and Danny and boarded the bus to what would become our time in Hell. 

Calgon, take me away! (to Ein Gedi Nature Reserve)

Do you remember that I mentioned it was hot?  So, we get to the spa at about 4pm, obtain our towels and then wait outside for the tractor train to the sea.  We’re all pretty much dying at this point.  Jennifer has lost her sense of humor.  The kids, who you’ll remember awoke with us at 3:45am, are wilting.  But here we are, waiting in Purgatory for the tractor-train to Hades.  Yes, I’m getting all biblical, but this is the Holy Land after all.  Minutes later we arrive at the sea’s edge and step into the salty stew. 

Boiled chicken anyone? (in the Dead Sea)

I’ve never immersed myself in hotter water.  As I progressed into the substance I began to feel like a boiled chicken.  Welcome to Hell.  But, this was the Dead Sea and, dammit, I was going to float even if it killed me.  The kids stepped in oh-so-tentatively.  Ella almost ran in the other direction. But, eventually, we all made it out to the little floaty thing under a shelter in the swimming area with the few other crazies who found themselves on the beach that day.  After several minutes of simmering, I began to feel a bit uncomfortable. Suffice it to say, the ‘ol Jewels were catching fire.  Never noticed a problem down there before but the salt doesn’t lie.  Hashem was punishing me for something, no doubt. So, I floated for a few minutes then fled with Ella while Sam and Jen stuck it out a bit longer.  Then Ella got a bit of salt in her eye and it was all over.  Satan had won, but it he was not done with us yet. (Note: “Satan” is a Hebrew word that means “obstacle.”)

Mud Girrrrrrl....at the Dead Sea.

We flushed Ella’s eye while waiting for the Purgatory train back to Salvation where, still not satisfied that we’d done enough, we all decided to get ourselves dirty and cake-on ostensibly “therapeutic” Dead Sea mud.  There is an actual station for this at the spa.  We bellied up to the mud bucket and began slathering with some fellow idiots from Canada and Israel. 

It wasn’t long before Sam complained that his face was beginning to burn off and, me being the proud papa, I needed to get a snapshot.  So, I scurried to rinse myself off in the lukewarm shower quickly and then get the camera.  Sam yelled “Take the damned picture dad. I’m burning!”  So I took two (LOL).  Ella, already burning, was gone from the scene only to return with slathered legs and arms for a photo…not to be outdone by brother.

Stick forks in our butts and turn us over. We were done.  Back to the hotel for some pool time before dinner.  A great dinner followed by more pool time after dark.  How the kids were still going I cannot explain. They’d been to Hell and back.  Jen was long gone, snoozing in the room with glasses on and book on chest. 

The Grateful Dead (Sea)

On Saturday morning, we said our goodbyes to Ian, Mark, Mary and Bryant, loaded the car and made our way east toward the Dead Sea.  It was good to be getting out of the city.  We live in the heart of a large city and we’d spent the first week or so of our trip in two large cities, so it was time for something different.  We needed a break.  

It was a challenge to escape Jerusalem.  The roads are good but not particularly well marked.  We headed north, as we were supposed to, following our road map but somehow we went too far and, when all of the commercial signs along the road began appearing exclusively in Arabic, Jennifer and I quickly determined that we should turn around because we’d likely missed our exit to Road 1. Indeed, we had and ten minutes later, we were heading east on Road 1, Dead Sea bound. 

Sea level entering the Judean Desert.

The land quickly became sparse. Dunes, Bedouin encampments complete with donkeys, and the occasional gas station.  We passed through a couple of checkpoints, some tourist-trap-roadside-photo-with-camel places and, before we knew it, we were below sea level at the northernmost point of the sea.  It was a hot, hazy day so the view was obscured,  but the sea was certainly visible as was the opposite shore of Jordan.  And a change from 1984, the last time I’d been down this road: A sign for the King Hussein Bridge and Border Crossing (Allenby Bridge).  A sign of peace and of progress.

We passed Jericho on our left (for another trip, perhaps) turned right on Road 90 and drove south into the Judean Desert.  Barren, mountainous, and arid. Our first stop would be the 2,000 year old ruins of Qumran. There, we watched a short film that described the sect of Jewish ascetics who resided there for many years, the Essenes. Above the ruins are caves and, in 1947, a shepherd found in one of the caves pots containing ancient scrolls which would become known as the Dead Sea Scrolls.  Among many other things, the scrolls include most of the books of the Jewish bible, except for the Book of Esther.  So, for Jews at least, Qumran is not only an archaeologically important place that tells us something about our ancestors; it is a sacred and holy place.

We were at Qumran on Shabbat.  Instead of reading Torah from a scroll kept in an ark in our synagogue sanctuary, the four of us were experiencing Torah in a place where it was actually written.  In the middle of the ruin, our little unit quietly sang the Shema and the Viyahavta.  (Shema Yisrael! Listen Israel! (Do the right thing!))

Eliana and Shmuel with the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran

Now, before I get too carried away, it’s important to remember that the Essenes, like many highly religious sects, were a little nutty.  Legend has it that they were so observant and dedicated to purity that they refused to defecate on Shabbat.  I’m not kidding. From now on, whenever we read from the Torah on Shabbat I’ll be both proud and humbled.  Proud that my People’s history is so deep and so rich, and humbled by the fact that they were a little crazy which, in turn, probably influenced their writing of the law.  After all, holding one’s bowels can result in physical, intellectual, and spiritual constipation. 

That's a real live cave with some Bible in it! (at Qumran)

It was, in Sam’s words, a “scorching hot” day, so we soon found ourselves inside the nice restaurant at the site, having some lunch and relaxing a bit.  A large number of tour groups came through as we munched: Spanish groups, African groups, Philipino groups, Russian groups.  Their tour guides were very efficient: Watch movie (7 minutes); walk on ruins (15 minutes); eat lunch and buy items at gift shop (30 minutes); return to bus.  Too bad for those folks.  We were able to spend as much time as we wanted and were even treated to live entertainment: Ella’s teen characters Ashley the It Girl, Veronica the Goth Girl, Chad the Football Player Boyfriend, and Shabalabadingdong, Ashley’s Indian boy alter ego.  Suffice it to say, we were in stitches.

"Scorching hot" day Exhibit A: Sweatball on end of nose.

Eventually, we returned to the car, got back on 90 and continued south. It was a wonderful drive, with the brown desert mountains to our right and the great salt sea and Jordan to our left. We’d been advised by our hotel to check in at 6pm, but we decided to try to check in early so that we could spend the afternoon chilling at the hotel pool.  About 30 minutes after departing Qumran, we rolled into the lush, green Kibbutz Ein Gedi.

The kibbutz – a commune – operates a full-service hotel – capitalism -- on its property. We were all very excited about the prospect of going swimming and, in fact, we were able to check in early. Our room wasn’t ready but we were able to grab our bathing suits from the trunk of the car and change at the pool.  We found lounge chairs and a shady spot and jumped in the drink.  The kids were ecstatic.  The water was quite warm but it still felt great to be wet and, at least, cooler than we’d been. Jen and I hung out in the deep end.  The kids stuck to the shallows. Precious space.

Kibbutz Ein Gedi rocks!

It was a great day, topped off by a fabulous buffet dinner in the dining room.  We needed to make it an early night, however, because tomorrow we’d be waking up at 3:45am to climb Masada . Lights out. 

But wait, there's more!  Prof. Sherman provides a mini-lecture at the Caves of Qumran.... 

Shabbat Shalom. Shalom Yerushelayim

Friday was a weird day.  It started off well enough.  Jen, the kids, Bryant, Mary, Ian, and Mark headed out to the Mount of Olives to track down the grave marker of the great, great grandfather who is buried there.  I assigned myself the task of walking several blocks to the cleaners to pick up our laundered clothing.  I saw everyone off, wished them well, donned my iPod shuffle, and shuffled-off to the laundry.  I arrived several minutes later to find our clothing ready to go.  I picked up the canvas laundry bags, hoisted one onto my shoulder and slung the second, lighter one onto my back and headed back down Ze’ev Jabotinsky Street to the intersection with King David Street.  Along the way, I rested and continued on.  I crossed the busy King David/Jabotinsky intersection with my bundles and turned a bit northeast toward the Yemin Moshe  Montefiore windmill, listening to Stewart Copland’s Rhythmatist in my ears.  I was a happy tourist.  

Ian searches in vain at Mount of Olives for great, great grandad's final resting place.... (photo by Ella)

Continuing in my happiness, after I dropped off the clean clothes at our apartment on Hamevasser Street, I turned the tunes up loud and pointed myself north on King David toward Ben Yehuda where I planned to use the Bank Hapoalim ATM to get some cash before Shabbat, and before we headed out of town on Saturday.  We’d had good luck with that ATM all week. 

I arrived at the corner of Ben Yehuda and Jaffa Road to find a rock band warming up on a stage on the square, and I was bumpin’ ready to get into it after retrieving the ‘ol cash.  I proceeded up the stairs to the large bank on the square to use the outdoor ATM, inserted my card and….uh oh…card going in very slowly.  Very, very slowly.  I poked my finger in to move things along, but I’d been there and done that before that with bad results so I was becoming concerned. Things were not right with this ATM.  After a moment, the card went through, I sighed relieved but not completely, and entered my transaction.  I pressed “enter” and waited for my 1,000 shekels to be regurgitated  through the mouth of the ATM. The machine said, first, “take your card.”  Problem! Said card was regurgitated by said ATM in a way that would not allow me to retrieve it.  I stuck my finger in, again, to try to coax the plastic lifeline from its keeper, but no.  And then, the unthinkable:  “Your card has been retained.” RETAINED! WTF! NO WAY! Okay, don’t panic, go into the bank and tell them what happened.  No can do, bro.  Bank is closed on Friday.  CLOSED ON FRIDAY! WTF! NO WAY! Wait there’s an emergency number posted on the bank’s front door.  I’ve got my cell phone and this is certainly an emergency, so I dial.  Of course, I get a phone tree on the other end of the line…. IN HEBREW! WTF! NO WAY!  Okay, now I’m getting worried because tomorrow’s Shabbat and we’re leaving Jerusalem and aren’t planning to return.  

Tourists beware: This bank sucks.

Long story short:  So called “emergency number” completely useless; the abrupt Israeli lady on the other end of the line tells me it’s my problem.  Sorry.  So, no dice on retrieving the debit card, and the machine debited my account for money I didn’t get.  I’m very unhappy.  I really could have been up a creek but, fortunately, Jen’s got an ATM card that can access our joint account.  Still, I’m pissed because this means I’ve got to call Bank of America, cancel the damned ATM card, and file a claim report  with Bank of America for the debited money. That’s precious minutes on my prepaid cell phone. WTF! 

Next stop, meet Jen at Budget car rental place near our apartment to rent our car fore the remainder of the Israel leg of the trip.  Two hours later, I’m finally able to drive a Mazda 3 out of the driveway with an empty tank of gas. 

There’s more, but I’ll spare you the finer points.  It wasn’t a banner afternoon on Day 8 of our trip. 

Things got substantially better that evening, however.  In the late afternoon, we found ourselves in the Old City’s Armenian and Muslim Quarter souks. Mark was searching from Roman coins, which he found in a nice shop and the rest of us just looked at all of the junk and cool stuff for sale, drank some juice, and avoided the shop owners. Sam coveted a fake, small dagger so we negotiated a price for that with the shop owner.  Funny.

Our Old City tour guide, Moshe (who’s an IDF buddy of Jen’s brother, Barak), had invited all of us to his family’s home in the Jewish settlement of Har Homa for Shabbat dinner.  Ian and Mark declined the invitation, but the rest of us were excited to go, so we piled into  our rented Mazda 3 and sped south toward Bethlehem (the real one; not the rusted steeltown in Pennsylavnia) at about 6:15pm. 

It was the beginning of a beautiful evening.  We made it there easily, with Jenny Jenkins at the wheel, and proceeded to apartment 5.  Moshe’s lovely, petite, and ebullient Japanese wife, Tamar, answered the door holding a baby and accompanied by her daughters Sarah (9) and Nama (5). After mutual introductions, and finding out that we’d procured a bottle of Bombay Sapphire Gin for Uncle Mordechai (Barak’s recommendation), Tamar sent us one floor above to his apartment to make the delivery. Sarah and Nama served as our fairy-ambassadors and announced our arrival to Mordechai who emerged quickly to insist that we call him Merlin and invited us to come in to have a drink with him.  We all proceeded to his apartment’s balcony; a spectacular view of Israel/Palestine, looking southwest. Merlin pointed out Bethlehem just across the main drag and some other surrounding Palestinian villages.  He provided generous helpings of gin, offered the kids some orange juice, and engaged Bryant and me in what was to be the beginning of a thoughtful thrust and parry.

At just before sundown, after receiving a kind admonition from Merlin about the use of electronic devices following sunset, we made it back down to Moshe and Tamar’s to say the blessing over the candles and get the Shabbat ball rolling. Meanwhile our kids were hitting it off with theirs – Sam quickly becoming the object of nine year-old Sarah’s attention -- and the Sabbath Bride was welcomed heartily.  Tamar served a wonderful dinner of olives, hummus, etc. along with Shepherd’s pie, and veggies. We discussed the Jews and Catholics on the U.S. Supreme Court, Uncle Barak’s affection for animals in his youth which drove my anti-pet mother in law crazy, and the advantages and disadvantages of a written constitution, and Merlin’s writings on Maimonides.  

Several hours and strands of discussion later, we decided it was time to go and piled back into the rental car to make way for Yemin Moshe.   It was really an extraordinary evening, not just because Merlin, Tamar, and Moshe are nice, interesting, and smart people, but because of the honor of being able to celebrate Shabbat with new old friends in Jerusalem.  This is reality in Israel.  Important for us and the kids to experience and try to understand.  Perhaps it would have been less interesting had we not spent it in Har Homa, one of the more controversial of the new settlements, and with people who understand the settlement’s origins and might feel somewhat uneasy about what it means to reside there. That is an important slice of Israel which, if you examine it, is extraordinarily complex. I knew this before, but it was an abstraction.  No longer.

Shalom Yerushelayim.