Travel Biography - Week 126.

In 2000, we spent two weeks in the Holy Land, the second week at a backpacker's hostel in Jerusalem's Old City. During that week, I had an idea of a day spent in Eilat, the southernmost town in Israel, which is a short distance from the border with Egypt. One afternoon, Alex and I sauntered along Jaffa Road to the bus station to find out about the service timetable and whether the fares were within our budget. We then cashed a traveller's cheque at a bank.

Eilat Coral Beach, south of the town centre, is on the west coast of the Gulf of Aqaba, one of two fingers extended from the arm of the Red Sea, the other being the Gulf of Suez. Between the two fingers is the Sinai Peninsula, almost wholly in Egypt, and the traditional site of the Decalogue delivered to the children of Israel as written in the Biblical book of Exodus. From Eilat, the town of Aqaba could be seen across the gulf, backed by the Jordan mountains. The Red Sea itself is the arm of the Indian Ocean.

Our Journey to Eilat.

Eilat Town.

Coral Beach, Eilat.

Alex at Coral Beach.

View of the coral shelf seen from the jetty.

At the Pier or Jetty.

Our bus departed from Jerusalem New City at 8.00 in the morning for a four-hour, 366 km or 227-mile bus journey to Eilat. This included a short break stop at En Gedi, on the west coast of the Dead Sea, to refresh ourselves. Further along the route, not far from Masada, I caught a momentary glimpse of a peculiar-looking but famous pillar a little way above the bus window I was sitting next to. This was Lot's Wife turned into a pillar of salt when the family fled from Sodom, which was under divine judgement. Just as surprising was that as the bus was approaching the pillar, my thoughts were far away as I gazed at the seat in front. Suddenly, without any forethought, my head turned to see the pillar as we passed by - as if turned by an invisible hand.

I would love to watch a TV documentary about that pillar if the lab scientists ever load it into an MRI scanner. What would the image reveal? Just a solid block of salt? Or the outline of a well-preserved female body encased deep within the rocky structure? Such a positive scan result would cause a psychological earthquake for both believers and sceptics!

The bus travelled through miles and miles over the barren desert of Judah, bypassing the town of Beersheba a few miles west of the route. Across the valley on our left, the border with Jordan continues, backed by the Rift mountains once inhabited by the Ammonites towards the north of the Dead Sea, the Moabites along its east coast, and the Edomites by the time we arrived at Eilat.

Four hours after boarding at Jerusalem, we finally arrived in Eilat town centre. The air was warm, and along the sidewalks lining the streets were fine water sprays where anyone could stand and cool down. In all, the town itself looked somewhat tacky for a holiday resort, consisting of low commercial buildings and dominated by the single runway of Eilat Airport which, unlike all other cities, was in the heart of town. At the beachfront, modern multistorey hotels reached for the sky, obscuring the golden brown mountains of the Rift Valley that begin at Galilee and continue on along the Jordan Valley, the Dead Sea, and then the Gulf of Aqaba and the whole length of the Red Sea before crossing over to the continent of Africa to end at Mt Kilimanjaro in Tanzania.

However, I knew where I wanted to go, as the town centre held little interest to me. We found a bus stop for the route to Coral Beach, nearly 7 km or 4.3 miles south of the bus station. When we arrived, the bus carried on a little further where it terminated close to Taba, on the Egyptian side of the border. Amazingly enough, we were the only two people who alighted at this location. There were some people on the beach, diving and snorkelling but being off-season, there were no beach crowds like we see during the summer at Bournemouth on a warm, sunny weekend. By comparison, Coral Beach was virtually deserted.

View of Coral Beach from the Pierhead.

Facing towards the Egyptian Border.

A closer look at the shallow coral shelf.

The Mountains of Jordan are behind Alex.

We had to pay a fee to enter the beach area which was backed by a hotel. I thought that this would have been ideal for a week's holiday, or even a long weekend. As a hotel guest, I would have had unlimited access to the beach and the coral reef. At the hotel reception, I hired a snorkelling mask and also bought a single-use underwater camera like the ones I had in Australia. Alex and I came to an agreement for her to remain dry due to her pregnancy. She was cooperative, and although she would have liked to have sampled some snorkelling experience for herself, she agreed to remain on the pierhead for the baby's sake. She also took care of our picnic lunch and other necessities after paying for the use of one of the clothes lockers.

Entry into the sea was not from the beach itself but from the end of a pier or jetty jutting some 30 metres out to sea. As the sandy beach sloped into the sea, the sand gave way to a shallow coral shelf, a very spectacular and colourful sight from the pier. The shelf continued on until it suddenly dropped to the sea floor, several metres down, forming a submerged cliff wall of coral. This was the coral garden I was about to see. The seafloor itself remains barren of any coral life as it consists of sand, and hard, firm rock is needed for the polyps to settle and establish a colony. Although I was able to make comparisons with the Great Barrier Reef, this reef was quite different. The Australian version has the reef spreading across the sea floor, whether surrounding a coral cay, a continental island off the mainland, or covering a range of seamounts such as the Outer Barrier Reef, all coral reefs need hard bedrock.

Another difference between Coral Beach and the Great Barrier Reef was the condition of the water. The sea within the Gulf of Aqaba has a greater salinity level than around Australia. The higher salt content makes the water very clear and free from the cloudiness common in the Indo-Pacific. Therefore, when it comes to underwater photography, the photos I got back were superior to those from Australia in clarity and sharpness of colour.

After I had changed into my swimwear, Alex and I made our way to the pier, passing the line that roped off entry into the sea directly from the beach. As we strolled along the pier, we watched the strip of sand turn into a coral bed as it sloped beneath the surface. At the end of the pier, a short platform had steps leading straight into the deep water. Alex sat on one of those steps whilst I swam straight out, with mask and snorkel fully in position.

Coral Detail using my underwater camera.

All these pictures were taken by me.

Coral detail.

Coral detail

As I surveyed the spectacular reef, my mind went back to Australia just three years earlier. The sheer joy of coral reef snorkelling returned, but with a difference. In 1997, I was free, single and with little responsibility. This time, I was married, my beloved wife was here with me, and a child was on its way. As I looked ahead, I'd be trading my reef snorkelling for sleepless nights as I tend to a crying child.

The fish I saw while I was snorkelling at Coral Beach Reef were more abundant than at the Great Barrier Reef. The most common was Sergeant Major Damselfish, which I saw also in the Indo-Pacific. Also, the Jewel Fairy Basslet swarming in great numbers around the coral provided a spectacular sight in itself, and actually swimming with them was an experience no visit to an aquarium could match. I also identified a single Emperor Angelfish with its beautiful shining blue body - beautiful to us, but a message to potential predators that this fish would not be good to eat. Bright colours are often associated with poison and a warning to predators.

I spent a considerable amount of time in the water while Alex watched and waited patiently. It's during those times - like I was at the Great Barrier Reef, and now here in the Gulf of Aqaba, I wished that I had done a lot better at school, and attended University (in my day there were no university fees. I would have lived on a Government student grant) and entered the field of marine biology - and then specialise in coral reefs. Instead of climbing a ladder in the cold to clean windows owned by shifty customers, I would have learned to scuba dive, work in a laboratory, and contribute to the reef's health. Dealing with bleaching caused by the warming of the surrounding water would have demanded full commitment - and the joy that would have accompanied such dedication when I saw the polyps beginning to thrive.

But in the sixties, the decade of schooling, I was aware of the existence of corals, but I knew nothing about them. Even right up to 1997, my knowledge of corals was very limited. It took a first-hand view of the coral polyps at Green Island for the scales to fall out of my eyes and discover what is to me an exciting new world. And a world I would have done my best to dedicate my living to protect and preserve.

We remained at the pierhead as Alex took out our lunch and picnicked over the sea. Afterwards, we took a stroll together along the beach while my stomach digested the food. I looked around this beautiful environment. Instead of the sea vanishing in a straight line at the horizon as all large bodies of water do, here the pinkish mountains of Jordan back what looks more like a large ribbon lake or a very wide river. By looking carefully at the base of the Jordan mountains, I could see the faraway town of Aqaba, after which the whole gulf is named.

There weren't many people at Coral Beach, but there were a small number. Some of the divers and snorkelers were crowding around a spot in the sea about 70 or 80 metres off the coast. I began to feel curious about what these people were looking at. After a while, Alex and I made our way to the pierhead. Once again, Alex sat where she sat before and watched. With the snorkel equipment in place, I swam out to where the offshore divers were.

What I saw was a small seamount, an isolated conical rock formation that had been colonised by a healthy-looking reef. Some divers were close to it, but from where I was, I still had a good view. Too bad that all the snapshots of the underwater camera were all exposed. I would have loved to have taken at least two or three of this isolated reef, with divers attending to it.

Sergeant Major Damselfish

Jewel Fairy Basslets.

Sergeant Majors and other species near Pierhead.

Returning to Jerusalem.

The schedule for the day was four hours to get to Eilat, and four hours to return to Jerusalem. Since our bus was scheduled to leave at 17.00 hours to arrive in Jerusalem at 21.00 hours, that allowed us a clear four hours at Coral Beach before we made our way back to the Central Bus Station. To us, four hours was enough. Within that timeslot, I saw as much of the coral as my heart desired. Furthermore, I have an underwater camera with a film of 24 exposures, all of the coral, the acetate film awaiting development and from it, prints made. All the underwater pics featured here are from that film.

We saw dusk as the bus headed north through Judah. The mountains of Jordan continued northward, uninterrupted, as these mountains are the result of a Rift Valley stretching as far north as Galilee.

Alex was not pleased with me as she slept next to me on the bus. She really would have liked to have seen the reef for herself, and I might have been overcautious in protecting our baby. Maybe next time I hope to be happier in watching her enjoy a swim. Fortunately, that opportunity wasn't far off. However, by the time we arrived back at the hostel, things between us were beginning to look up.

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Next Week: En Gedi, where I could have ended up in hospital.

Travel Biography - Week 125.

Jerusalem - Small and Insignificant?

Jerusalem is a small city over 60 km inland from the sea or 37 miles from the coast. Unlike most major cities worldwide, it has no river flowing through or around it. Furthermore, it's split down the middle, with the Jewish West Jerusalem, its wide, traffic-laden streets, and the Arabic East Jerusalem, which includes the mostly traffic-free walled Old City. Yet, before the 1967 Six-Day War, East Jerusalem and the Old City were in Trans-Jordan, and a wall divided the city between two sovereign States which were hostile to each other. A late elderly friend wanted to visit Jerusalem Old City sometime before 1967. He and his wife had to fly to Jordan's capital, Amman, and travel west until they arrived at Jerusalem's Old City, but they weren't able to cross into Israel.

New and Old. Glass Works at the Citadel.

General view of the Citadel, near Jaffa /Gate.

View of the Old City from the Citadel Tower.

A Souk in the Old City.

At the Damascus Gate.

Geographically, Jerusalem is insignificant in both size and location. Neither is it a trading port. Yet, according to the prophet Zachariah in the Bible, it will be a cup of trembling for all the nations surrounding it, if not worldwide. It is believed by many scholars that when other nations surround this particular city to attack, the Battle of Armageddon will break out, that final war, bringing an end to human history as we know it. How could an insignificant-looking city have such earth-shaking phenomena?

Yet, throughout my life and recorded in this Biography, I felt a real privilege to have visited this fascinating city and walked its streets. I always recall my first visit here in 1976 - (Week 4). The Old City souks were more akin to the ancient Middle East culture during my first visit there. Furthermore, unlike my late elderly friend, I was able to land at Israel's Ben Gurion Airport and from the Jewish New or West City, I entered the Old City simply by entering through either the Jaffa Gate or the more ornate Damascus Gate on the north side of the city.

After staying in Jerusalem in 1976, I returned again in 1993. That was when I noticed a distinct modernisation of the Old City to suit the growing influx of Western tourists. The following year, I spent a whole month as a resident at the New Swedish Hostel on Souk David after my dismissal as a volunteer from Stella Carmel Christian Conference Centre in Isfya, near Haifa. And here I am again, in 2000, no longer alone but with my wife Alex, in her 19th week of pregnancy, celebrating our first Wedding Anniversary. 

We were fortunate to rent a hotel-style room with a double bed at the New Swedish Backpacker's hostel in the heart of the Old City. It was a superb location for a cut-price stay. But there was a downside. When checking in at Ben Gurion Airport to fly back to the UK, the security checks were tightened. This was due to staying at a Palestinian-owned property. In 1993, my backpack was emptied in a small side room, and also here, my person was thoroughly examined. It was quite a humiliating experience performed by well-trained Israelis, and one I never went through anywhere else in the world. As such, throughout our stay, I felt apprehensive about our departure security check at the airport.

Our Involvement in Jewish Festivals.

Sukkot - Festival of Booths.

These two allowed us to photo them.

A Booth fronts a Restaurant.

Yom Kippur Prayers at the Western Wall.

We arrived in Israel at the start of its New Year, or Rosh Hashanah, followed by Sukkot or the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as the Festival of Booths. Corresponding with Sukkot was Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement, the most important day of the Jewish calendar. All these happened during our two-week stay in 2000. Having stayed in the Old City during Sukkot, we weren't affected by holiday closures as we were during Rosh Hashanah, as all businesses in the Old City were Arab-owned.

But in the Jewish West City, as we strolled along the streets, we saw that temporary booths were everywhere. From small, two-man shelters to large tents stretching the length of a shop or restaurant. It was on one of the evenings that we sat in a shelter outside a restaurant for the opportunity to experience Sukkoth for ourselves. I even approached two Orthodox Jews at a small booth for permission to take a photo of them with the shelter. To my surprise, they were happy to oblige.

On the Day of Atonement, we stood at the Western Wall. In the Bible, on that special day of the year, the priest, a direct descendant of Aaron, Moses' brother, was to sacrifice a lamb at the altar at the Most Holy Place of the Temple and pour the blood on the solid gold Mercy Seat of the Ark of the Covenant. But in our day, neither the Temple nor the Ark existed, so all they could do was pray at the Wall for forgiveness of sins and atonement. 

The Sukkot lasted a week, but the whole of Israel closed down on the first and last day of the festival. However, during the five days in between, normal trading was possible. Hence, with the buses running, we were able to take a day out to Eilat, a four-hour journey covering 366 km or 227 miles.

Jerusalem's Spirituality and its Effects on Us.

Alex at the Site of the Crucifixion.

At the Church of Dominus Flevit.

The Church of the Ascension.

Inside the Church of the Ascension.

Inside the Church of the Nations.

Alex saw Jerusalem as a spiritual solace as well as a city of historical and cultural significance. At various sites, she knelt and offered her prayers. One example was in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Fortunately, as it was off-season and most of the tourists and pilgrims had gone home, the queue to enter the Sepulchre was short and fairly fast-moving. This allowed Alex to linger at the ledge where traditionally, the body of Jesus was laid after he was taken down from the cross. 

Nearby, within the same building, the exact site of the cross is represented by a lifesize image of Christ crucified. Alex stood with reverence as I looked on. It's here that the Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Coptic, Armenian Apostolic, Syriac, and Ethiopian Orthodox churches accept the area as authentic, while the Protestants insist that the site is located at the Garden Tomb, north of the city, despite archaeologists saying that the tomb is considerably older, by as much as 700 years than the "new tomb no man had used" to bury the body of Jesus.

I visited the Garden Tomb in 1994, and indeed, it does look authentic, but this was the original opinion of an Englishman, Charles Gordon, in the 19th Century, after receiving reports from other missionaries before his time, that the nearby hill does resemble a skull, hence according to Gordon, this hill must have been Golgotha. An Arab bus station is at the foot of the hill, and in 1994, I boarded a bus to Hebron. As the bus remained stationary before it departed, I had a chance to take a good look. Incidentally, the garden which contains the tomb is also known as Gordon's Calvary. 

I decided not to take Alex to Gordon's Calvary after watching her showing reverence and prayer inside the Holy Sepulchre. Besides, whether the Holy Sepulchre was truly authentic or not, I wanted to believe it was so since my first visit there in 1976.

Another site where Alex found spiritual solace was inside the Church of the Nations at the foot of the Mount of Olives. Here lies an enclosure of bare smooth rock. It was traditionally the site of the Agony -  just before Jesus was arrested and his disciples fled. Just outside the church and to the west of it, an enclosure had olive trees thriving within. Some of these trees looked very old and gnarled, and could even be the ones Jesus was familiar with when he sweated blood while his disciples slept.

On the summit of the Mt of Olives, Alex and I visited the Church of Dominus Flevit with its beautiful arch window overlooking the Temple Mt of Jerusalem. We had to pay the Arab keeper of the Church of the Ascension, a small building over the site where the Resurrected Jesus took off from the Mt of Olives in front of his watching disciples, supposing to leave his footprint in the rock.

Just a word about dress mode. Even during the hot July sunshine, these churches and holy sites won't admit anyone wearing shorts or showing bare shoulders. In 1994, I was refused admission to the Church of Dominus Flevit for wearing shorts when I should have known better. Long trousers are a necessity for men, and women are to keep their shoulders covered. Thank goodness I didn't have to wear a tie!

Ancient Jerusalem.

Excavation of the City of David, 1000 BC.

Excavation of the City of David.

Hasmonian Ruins, Citadel.

Alex and I also visited some ancient ruins dotted around the city, especially in the East Jerusalem area. Outside the south side of Temple Mount, a flight of ancient steps leading to a sealed gateway was once used by Jesus and his generation of Jews heading for the Temple. At Jaffa Gate, the ancient Citadel dates back to the Hasmonian period, around the 1st Century BC. In 2000, the site was enhanced by a display of coloured glass. Other sites include the Bethesda Archaeological Gardens, including the pool where Jesus healed a paralytic on the Sabbath. Nearby, an impressive river dam built in the 7th Century BC remains intact.

The Western Wall, especially the lower section, is itself ancient. Built by the Romans, it was once dominated by the Second Temple originally built by Ezra as the Jews returned to Jerusalem following the Babylonian exile, and further embellished by Herod the Great.

However, the most impressive ancient site was the recent excavation of part of the City of David, originally a Jebusite city built on a tongue of land, known as Mt Ophel, stretching southward from the Temple Mount. The excavation, dating from 1,000 BC, recently opened to the public in 2000, faces east into the Kidron Valley with the southern end of Mt of Olives rising on the other side of the valley. 

Apparently, since 2000, the excavation extended further, revealing the Pool of Siloam with steps leading into it, and a street lined with shops for the ancient Jewish pilgrims who made their way to the Temple. At this point in time, the most recent excavations are not yet open to the public, but the excavated Pool of Siloam is earmarked to be refilled with water and restored to its originality. Too bad that it's very unlikely for me to see for myself. Instead, I encourage anyone younger to go and visit - and verify the historicity of the Bible during this age of scepticism.

Other sites include a site near the Cardio dating back to the days of Isaiah the prophet, around 700 BC. In the middle of the Cardio, a glimpse down into a walled hole in the street reveals a section of an ancient wall also dating from the time of Isaiah and King Hezekiah could be seen through a glass panel.

As for Hezekiah's Tunnel, or the Tunnel of Siloam, this was where I waded through from one end to the other in 1976 and again in 1993. I gave it a miss in 1994, and due to her pregnancy, I kept Alex away in 2000. I wasn't sure how she might have felt in such a cold, claustrophobic environment, so I felt wise to stay away. In my day, entry was free and open to anyone, as long as the gate was unlocked. But now, I believe that a building covers the cave-like entrance with steps leading down. I have no regrets. My visits to the Tunnel were timely - as much of its history was unspoiled by any form of commercialism.

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Next Week: Snorkelling in the Red Sea.

Travel Biography - Week 124.

Stella Carmel - Any Difference Since 1994?

I brought my beloved to Israel to celebrate our first wedding anniversary in 2000. After arriving at Ben Gurion Airport, we took a bus to Tiberias Bus Station. We settled in a hotel for the next three days. However, the Jewish New Year, or Rosh Hashanah, was about to begin, thus every shop closed, and every bus and sherut service ceased for the national holiday. We were also cashless due to a lack of proper foresight and planning. By the time we arrived at Haifa on our way to Stella Carmel Christian Conference Centre in Isfya, Israel's third largest city was more of a ghost town.

We were then left stranded on the crest of Mt Carmel ridge, in the summit town of Merkaz Hakarmel. Thinking that the tall block of Haifa University was no more than a mile or so further along the road, from where we were, it came into view - over 7 km away, or four miles. We realised that our destination must have been twice that distance, and I was shocked about how I had grossly underestimated the route using memory from 1994, alone.

On my own, I quite likely accomplished the eight-mile hike, no matter how tired I might have been, knowing that dusk wasn't far away. But not with Alex. I would never encourage her to hike that distance while she was 18 weeks pregnant, even if the trail was mostly level and relatively easy.

We were rescued by the driver of a passing taxi. Seeing that we were cashless, he gave us some money and drove us to the centre. We were safe at last!

Stella Carmel Christian Conference Centre.

A view of Isfya from Stella Carmel.

Front Porch of Stella Carmel.

At Stella Carmel, we had a twin-bedded room booked. Trevor, whom I knew from 1994, was at the reception and he assigned an upstairs room for us. Somewhat reluctantly, as we were the only guests, Margaret cooked us a meal. After that, we were left to ourselves.

Margaret, Trevor, and Andrew were three of the original seven full-time staff members who had remained at the Centre over the past six years. Margaret either noticed or somehow sensed Alex's pregnancy but there were no words spoken of congratulations. If anything, Trevor and Margaret, then a childless married couple, remained apathetic towards us, as if the disaster of 1994 still lingered in the air. However, Andrew was more talkative, as we got on well back in 1994.

There was one big change that transpired over the last six years, and that was the construction of the new D-shaped church building to accommodate the Kehliat Ha-Carmel Congregation who worshipped every Saturday. In 1994, I became familiar with this group of Messianic Jews and actually attended several of their weekly services held at the Centre itself. The only downside was that stacking away the chairs and cleaning the floor was down to us volunteers. It was tedious work. With the new building where everything remains set up, by 2000, the pressure on volunteers had been relieved.

The day after we arrived, it was a Saturday, and we participated in the service. People from all over the Haifa area gathered here, as they did in 1994. The service hadn't changed, even if the environment had. During both the songs and the sermon, both English and Hebrew were used, as the speaker spoke in Hebrew, and each sentence was translated into English by the interpreter who was next to him. After the service, we enjoyed some cold refreshments outside.

However, I was glad that our stay was at most four days, including the day we left for Jerusalem. Amidst the quietness, the oppression I felt in the air in 1994 lingered on, although Alex wasn't too aware of it. Indeed, everything they did by the rules of the Anglican Church was right. For example, co-habitants without a marriage certificate were banned from renting any rooms - even if the couple lived together for years and had children. Fair enough, perhaps, but the same couple might have been offered a double bedroom at the New Swedish Hostel in Jerusalem, and experience the sense of warm welcome from the Arab hosts, hence endearing greater respect. Here at Stella Carmel, all the staff were British, efficient, but cool of heart.

Another View from Stella Carmel

Church of the Kehliat Ha-Carmel Congregation.

Worship within the Kehliat Ha-Carmel Church.

However, two Arab youths visited Stella Carmel daily in 1994. They were Rami and Nadal, both Christian believers. Back then, they were teenagers. On one occasion, Rami singled me out from everyone else and asked if we could pray together, as he was in some form of distress. I was happy to oblige. Six years later, I tried to track them down. I found out that Rami had since moved to Tel Aviv and worked in Security at Ben Gurion Airport. But Nadal was still living at home. We approached his house, a short walk from the Centre. He was there and he greeted us warmly, remembering who I was, and invited us into his house. We were welcomed by the rest of his family as we enjoyed some refreshments.

Another Mistake.

On one of the days we spent at Stella Carmel, we decided to return to Haifa with the erroneous idea that the holidays were over and the city would be alive and bustling. On a normal Israeli working day, Haifa is a great place to be, throbbing with life and vigour. And also to visit a bank to cash a cheque or two for some much-needed money.

A taxi pulled in where the sherut normally waits, just outside the driveway entrance. Using the last of the cash given to us by the taxi driver, but were optimistic that we would quickly find a bank, we paid the last of our cash to the driver. He then dropped us off at the city centre.

Oh no! The entire city was dead, a ghost town. The holidays weren't over but carried on into the next day. No one warned us at Stella Carmel, even if told them of our intentions. Once again we were stranded in Haifa with no money for a taxi back to Isfya.

Feeling panicky, we walked along the deserted streets. At first, I thought I saw what looked like a bank, and I made a quick dash towards it, only to find that it wasn't a bank but an administration office - and it was closed. We carried on walking, climbing the hill towards the summit of Mt Carmel. Near the Temple of Bahai were some shops - all closed except one, a pharmacy - the only shop open for trading in the whole city!

We walked in and I think the assistant saw I much in despair I was. I then explained (in English) that we were stranded in the city and we needed to get to Isfya. But we were cashless to pay the taxi fare. Would she accept a traveller's cheque? She gave me a cautious look as I produced the book and passport. She then took the countersigned cheque and gave me some cash in the equivalent currency. I felt an overwhelming relief. I soon found a taxi and paid the driver to take us back to Stella Carmel.

Preparing for Jerusalem.

The third day in Isfya was our anniversary, our first one after our wedding, and once over, it would never return. Therefore, we decided on a quiet day we could spend together. Whether it was still a national holiday or whether Israel had returned to work, it didn't matter, as we were not going further than a reasonable walking distance, and that was a stroll in the nearby forest of Mt. Carmel National Park. Here, the tranquillity of the area matched the inside of the Grand Canyon, the Dorset Coast Path and even the Great Barrier Reef. Yet, the stroll reflected the ups and downs of independent travel compared to a package holiday such as our honeymoon. The Jewish holiday is taken more seriously than in the UK. Here in England, our superstore is closed for only two days a year, Christmas and Easter. It remains open on all other Bank Holidays throughout the year. By contrast, the whole of Israel shuts down at least once a week, during the Sabbath.

As such, we hoped that on the day after our anniversary, Israel would be open to trading once again. I walked into Isfya town and found a bank - open. It was a relief to countersign a couple of cheques for some ready cash, which was a necessity for the bus fares to Jerusalem and the accommodation fees to cover us until we flew back to the UK.

We vacated our room and waited for a sherut service to Haifa Bus Station. Once we arrived, we boarded the Egged Bus service to Jerusalem. The Egged Bus is Israel's Greyhound, plying up and down the country from Acre north of Haifa to Eilat, near the border with Egypt. A domestic airline also connects Haifa and Jerusalem with Eilat.

Scene of the Mt Carmel National Park.

Forest at Mt Carmel National Park.

In Jerusalem, Alex got to grips with backpacking.

We arrived at Jerusalem. Immediately, I noticed that the Egged Bus Terminal had moved from its original site on Jaffa Street to a new site further north, but still on Jaffa Street. In 2000, Jaffa Street was still a throughway for motorised traffic. But at present, Jaffa Street is now closed to traffic as it accommodates tram lines, nonexistent in my day.

From the bus station, we made our way through Jaffa Road, crossing over Zion Square fronted by the Ron Hotel (now the Jerusalem Hostel), where I stayed in 1976, and witnessed a demonstration outside of it in 1994. Eventually, the west wall of the Old City came into view and having navigated across a busy road, we entered the enclosure via Jaffa Gate. We made our way down Souk David, so familiar to me but so new to Alex, and arrived at the New Swedish Hostel, a place of refuge and consolation after the 1994 Stella Carmel disaster.

We entered and climbed the familiar stairs to reception. At the counter, a young Arab man was ready to serve us. I asked whether there was a bedroom with a double bed, and at first, he showed us an unoccupied dormitory with single bunk beds - perhaps thinking that "double bed" refers to a bunk bed. It doesn't, therefore we refused to accept the dormitory. He then led us to the room next door to the dormitory. It was a hotel room with a proper marriage bed and other facilities, along with privacy. It was perfect for us, and paid in advance for the remainder of the holiday, the second week. It was here that Alex was to get to grips with independent backpacking. The hostel has a member's kitchen.

Just a couple of doors away from our hostel was the currency exchange office, and it was here where I cashed the remaining cheques, not all at once, but one at a time every other day for safekeeping and to avoid carrying too much cash at once. Also nearby, a minimarket kept us fed, and both breakfast and evening meals were plentiful for both of us, with Alex taking over the domestic chores of preparation. It was off-season, hence we both avoided the long wait for the stove to be freed from another user - a problem in the past unique to this hostel.

But what we loved as well was the early mornings just before we got up for the day. From a couple of blocks across the Old City - which was free from traffic noise - the melodic sound of bells chiming from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (the traditional site of Christ's crucifixion and burial) rang through the streets outside. This, combined with the Islamic call to prayer blaring aloud from the minarets dotted across the Muslim Quarter of the city, makes Jerusalem Old City the most unique location in the world. As far as my knowledge is concerned, I know of no other city where Christianity, Judaism, and Islam mingle within the tight confines of a city wall as in Jerusalem's Old City.

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Next Week: How we witnessed the Jewish Yom Kippur ritual and the Feast of Tabernacles.

Travel Biography - Week 123

Preparing for Israel, 2000.

When Tim and I camped at Corfe Castle in Dorset during Whitsun of 2000, I had no idea Alex was already pregnant. Not even my beloved was yet aware. However, she was wondering about it a couple weeks after returning home. She bought a urinal test strip from the pharmacist. The next morning she took the test. The result was positive. With great excitement, I wanted to tell the world, even to shout out of the window!

I was 48 years old when I became a father for the first time at the birth of my daughter in 2001. And just four years earlier, at the time I was snorkelling over the Great Barrier Reef, I honestly thought that I would grow old as a bachelor and even die alone in my apartment. I even pondered on when my body would be discovered after death, and how. How much everything had changed.

As already mentioned last week, the desire for independent backpacking wasn't killed by the wedding. The next trip overseas to celebrate our first anniversary was two weeks in Israel, mainly in Jerusalem, but I also had a wish to visit, and possibly stay for a couple of days at Stella Carmel Christian Conference Centre in Isfya, near Haifa. It was here where I lived as a volunteer in 1994 and how it came to a disastrous end.* My intention for this visit six years later in 2000 was to "make peace" with the Centre and its staff. I was fortunate. When I made the phone call from my apartment, the receptionist was none other than Trevor, whom I knew well from 1994. Since my departure, he had married Margaret the cook, and she was still boss in the kitchen. Andrew, the head of maintenance, was also still there. However, the Centre's overall manager was someone who had recently taken charge, and as such, a stranger to us.

During the phone call, Trevor recognised who I was, and when I asked for a room for two, he carefully questioned my marriage status and warned that he would refuse to serve us unless we were legally married. I reassured him that we were legally married. He then offered us a twin-bedded room within the same set of rooms I used to clean out and remake the beds as a volunteer six years earlier. This time, as paying guests, it was seen by us as any other hotel. This would be very different from volunteering.

Alex in Tiberias Town, 2000.

Tiberias Esplanade.

Our Arrival in Israel.

Before setting off, we had to make sure that it was safe to fly with Alex's pregnancy. We felt relief when the medical team advised us not to fly after 24 weeks of gestation. The holiday would be between 18 and 20 weeks of gestation, hence within the safe time zone.

Our flight from London Heathrow to Tel Aviv was an overnight flight with British Airways. Together, we left our bedsit apartment to board a train for London. We had a whole afternoon to spend in London before heading out to Heathrow Airport. We made use of the time at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.

The check-in at the airport went smoothly. I sat (as usual) by the window whilst Alex slept as she sat next to me. This was the second flight out together after our honeymoon to Rhodes. As I looked out of the window into the dark night, below was southern Germany, and being a clear night, its villages, towns, and cities glowed like clusters of illuminated diamonds surrounded by black velvet. It was quite an astonishing sight.

It was already dawn when we touched down at Ben Gurion Airport. At Passport Control, Alex passed through easily and without a hitch. But the officer stared hard at me, and with my passport in her hand, she turned to her supervisor who was busy doing something else. The senior officer turned and took one look at me, then at my passport photo, and waved me through as I was given the okay. The cause? My passport showed me wearing spectacles. At the control, I wasn't wearing them.

Outside, we took a bus to Tiberias, as I planned to show Alex the Sea of Galilee. It was quite a journey. After we arrived I found the same hotel I stayed at in 1976, and from where I hired a bicycle in 1994. There was a double-bed room available and we took it when it was offered. This was 2000, and the smartphone still didn't exist back then. Therefore, off-the-street hotel walk-ins were still possible. We spent the first day after arrival exploring the town and the lake shore. The photos posted here are from that visit.

Love by the Sea of Galilee.

Sea of Galilee.

The next day, I thought it was a brilliant idea to hire two bicycles from the hotel to cycle around the Sea of Galilee. This wasn't the first time for me. In 1994, I completed the entire 68 km (42 miles) circuit. This included the east side of the lake which was in Syria before 1967. However, the first few miles, that is, between Tiberias and Capernaum, were hilly, and involved stiff climbing. Being as I always was, I didn't consider Alex's pregnancy to be liable, as I have always known her to outrun me easily. As I said before, a fast speedboat versus an older creaking ship.

But Alex couldn't make it up the hill. Instead, she dismounted and lay on the ground to rest. I was already thinking about aborting the ride for the sake of both her and the baby when a car pulled up. The male driver suggested a visit to a hospital, but fearing any medical expenses here in Israel, we both declined, with Alex assuring him that it wasn't as bad as it looked. Reassured, the man then drove off, leaving us to return the bikes back to the hotel. This was the first of the two big mistakes we made during the first three days of the holiday.

The rest of our short stay in Tiberias was okay. From the beach and away from the beach resorts, I managed to swim in the cool freshwater lake. Again, for the baby's sake, Alex remained dry on shore.

Getting to and our arrival at Stella Carmel.

I am supposed to be an experienced traveller, yet a lack of proper pre-holiday research led us into hot water. Here, I'm referring to Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. In 2000, it fell on Friday, September 29th or the Year of the World 5761. However, by the time we found out that our arrival coincided with Rosh Hashanah, it was too late. Before the Jewish Holy Day, the town of Tiberias was alive and bustling, with the banks open. This was significant, as I had a wad of Traveller's Cheques and little cash. Cashing a cheque or two to cover the holy days would have sustained us for the next few days. But my lack of foresight led to difficulties - and it took a near-miracle to literally rescue us!

As it was still a normal working day, after three days at the lakeside town, we took a bus to Haifa from Tiberias. All was normal. We arrived at Haifa, only to find that the city was deserted, all shops closed, and even the taxis, including the Sherut, a service unique to Israel, weren't running. We were literally stranded, with a large wad of cheques but with no cash and no way to get to Stella Carmel - except, perhaps by foot.

Haifa is built on the northern slope of Mt Carmel, and normally, a single underground railway would have transported us from the city centre, which was by the harbour, to the crest of the mountain. But this too, was closed for the Jewish holiday. We had no other option but to walk, in the hope of arriving at Stella Carmel by nightfall, if possible, if I had the memory of 1994 to rely on. I also had my eye on the tall skyscraper of Haifa University, a marker indicating that our destination was not too far.

We climbed the multiple stairways that cut through the housing estate which was built on the northern slope of the mountain. We eventually arrived at the lovely town of Merkaz Hakarmel on the crest of the ridge, leaving behind a terrific panorama of the city and Harbour. This was the fulfilment of a prophetic dream I once had around 1996. I dreamt that I was at a high point looking down at Haifa Harbour. Standing beside me was a female, but unidentified in the dream.

We found the road that ran along the crest of the mountain ridge. We resumed walking. I carried the heavy rucksack which contained both Alex's and my essentials, leaving her nearly empty-handed except her handbag. We walked for a little way until I saw the University building standing tall. From Hakarmel, the University was 4.5 miles or 7km away. Then there was a further 6.5 km from the Uni to Stella Carmel. That's a total of 13.5 km or around eight miles. Far too much to cover, although on my own, sure. I might have covered that distance, even with the time I had left. But not with my wife and her unborn. I couldn't do that to her!

We hired Bikes.

A view of Haifa Harbour climbing Mt Carmel.

We came across a bench and we both sat down. I felt desperate. Alex didn't so much, as she depended on me. Somehow, we need to get to our destination. Instead, we were literally stranded next to a main road. Indeed, my thoughts were troubling me. I was an experienced traveller. I knew how to look after myself no matter where I was. How on Earth did I get into such a state, with Alex as much stranded as I was? I felt ashamed and somewhat embarrassed for not doing proper research before taking off. And then to rub salt into the wound, I could have cashed at least a cheque while I had the chance in Tiberias. That would have paid for a taxi direct to Stella Carmel - the only possible service on a national holiday in Israel, and even that was greatly reduced. 

I turned around to see a housing estate behind us. I thought about knocking on the door and literally begging the householder to give us a lift to the Centre, as my wife is pregnant. However, a continuous barrier fence separated the housing estate from the main road. There was no way to reach it.

How long we both sat there, I couldn't say. Twenty minutes, perhaps? Maybe half an hour. But just then, a car - a taxi by the looks of it, halted on the other side of the dual carriageway, heading towards Merkaz Hakarmel. The driver leaned out of the window and asked where we wanted to get to.

To Stella Carmel in Isfya! I called out. The driver then told us not to move, he'd be right back.

Indeed, he quickly returned, this time on our side of the road. He encouraged me to load the rucksack into the car trunk. I began to protest that I had little to no cash. But he told us to jump in nevertheless. We did. As we settled in the back seat, he gave us a ten-shekel note. He then explained that alongside driving a taxi, he also pastored a church in Haifa, and he was familiar with Stella Carmel. When we got there, he drove us up the driveway leading to its main entrance. After dropping us off and unloading the trunk, he then drove off, returning to where he came from.

An upstairs twin-bedded room was assigned to us and we settled in. We met Margaret, whom I have known since 1994. who seemed to have taken note of Alex's pregnancy. She cooked us a meal. We were the only guests that evening, and the whole Centre was quiet.

But our troubles weren't yet over.

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For details of daily living at Stella Carmel, 1994 - it's Week 53, click here.

For details of how my role as a volunteer ended - it's Week 54, click here.

Next Week: Our Stay at Stella Carmel and another Miscalculation.