Corals, Wife, Baby and Me = Four

Alex and I rose one early morning after the chiming from the bells of the nearby Church of the Holy Sepulchre, set in the heart of the Christian Quarter of Jerusalem Old City during Autumn of the year 2000. We knew that this particular day is going to be a busy one. Being off-season, the backpacker's hostel was empty of all other guests. Not that it mattered to us. We occupied the only private bedroom on the first floor. The two other rooms, empty of guests at the time, were dormitories, accommodating single bunk beds, one of them I occupied as a single traveller back in 1993 and 1994 respectively.

Back then, especially in 1994, The New Swedish Hostel was packed with young backpackers, with both genders squeezed into each of the dormitories, with the Medieval domed ceiling adding historic character to the enhancement of our experience. But this time, I was happy to pay more per night in a private room with a double bed. 

We made our own breakfast at the tiny combined member's kitchen and dining room. After we washed the dishes and cleared them away, we set off, the two of us walking through Souk David, and past the Citadel that stands guard over Jaffa Gate, then along the outside of the city wall, towards Jaffa Road in the New City as we made our way to the bus station. During this walk, we passed the Ron Hotel, facing Zion Square and the junction with Ben Yehuda Street - Ron Hotel being the same venue I checked in during late Spring of 1976, over 24 years earlier.

We finally entered the Egged Central Bus Station (and where I was glad to see the toilets!) and having bought tickets, we boarded the bus for the four-hour journey to Eilat, on the northern tip of the Red Sea.

After a four-hour ride, which included a rest stop by the Dead Sea, we arrived at Eilat. After checking out the resort town, we caught a local bus to Coral Beach, a nature reserve and resort just a mile short of the Egyptian border.

Jetty at Coral Beach, Eilat. Taken Oct. 2000.

We had to pay to enter the beach enclosure, which also boasts a hotel with a desk that rents out snorkels. Since Alex was 19 weeks pregnant with our first daughter, we agreed that only I will go into the water whilst she sat and watched from the jetty and preparing lunch for both of us.

As I revelled at the corals beneath me, with many tropical fishes swimming among them, I couldn't help but make a mental comparison to the Great Barrier Reef I visited only four years earlier in 1997. These are different species of coral altogether, mainly hard coral which had built a reef along the west coast of the Red Sea, forming an underwater coral cliff. By contrast, the parts of the Great Barrier Reef I have visited consist of both hard and soft coral, the latter resembling spaghetti strands swaying gently by the current. However, the corals of Green Island cay, off the port of Cairns, was devastated by the invasion of the Crown-of-Thorns starfish. Thank goodness that the reefs of neighbouring Low Isles cay and the fringe reef of Border Island of the Whitsundays archipelago - along with the reef of the Red Sea - remains relatively free from this aquatic pest.

About fifty to seventy metres out from the coast, I saw some divers swimming around a particular spot before they disappeared underwater. This aroused my curiosity. I began to swim to the area. It was then I saw a towering mound of coral standing alone and separate from the coastal reef, with some divers below as they examined the reef from close quarters. One of them looked up to see me floating almost directly above, breathing into my snorkel. As a goodwill gesture, I closed my right fist and stuck out my thumb with the tip pointing upward. The diver looked as if he took offence and returned to the coral mound.

It was afterwards when I realised that by sticking up my thumb, a sign of goodwill here in the UK, in Israel, this was offensive. I felt so embarrassed! What I should have done was to form a circle with my thumb and index finger. Not only was this a goodwill sign in Israel but also an international gesture that all is well among divers.

Other than that setback, the rest of the day went very well for both of us. We had lunch at the jetty, and like at the Great Barrier Reef, I also bought a single-use submersible camera when I rented the snorkelling gear. It was in the evening that my beloved felt somewhat regretful that she didn't share the aquatic experience with me. But she also understood that with the baby growing inside her, we felt that it was better for her to remain safe.

After spending several hours in Eilat, we boarded the bus back to Jerusalem. As we sat on the bus, I looked out of the window across the Rift Valley to the Jordanian mountains on the other side while Alex was sleeping. As the dry Arabah Valley gives way to the Dead Sea at the lower end of the Jordan Rift Valley, I was able to visualise Moses standing on one of those Jordanian mountains, looking across the valley and seeing the expanse of the Holy Land, even as far as the Mediterranean Sea. The land which God told him he wouldn't be allowed to enter.

The sound of the bus engine, as it purred along the road, enhanced the haunting feel of the valley, as if so much history had taken place there, I found to be almost disturbing, especially after dark. I was able the visualise the ancient nation of Edom to the south of the valley, and Ammon further to the north. The discarnate ghosts of ancient history all gazing at this lonely vehicle carrying living passengers from Eilat to Jerusalem. It was a feeling I had never experienced elsewhere.

Red Sea Corals, taken with a submersible camera.

Zebra Fish at the Red Sea.

It was late in the evening before we arrived back at the hostel. Seeing the streets lights of Jerusalem had dispelled any oddness I might have felt during the nighttime journey. Yet, in all, it was a great day as we celebrated our first wedding anniversary.

My fascination with the Holy Land goes back to the early to mid-seventies. I was converted from atheism to a Christian believer late in 1972, then aged 20. And one of the fruits of conversion was to start reading the Bible, not only for my spiritual growth but also as a fount of knowledge not learned at school.

And one feature I gradually discovered was that of all the ancient settlements, Jerusalem is mentioned most, and the Bible seems to put much emphasis on this city, both throughout the Old Testament and into the New, at least up to the book of Acts. After this, all the letters concentrated on the churches around the Roman Empire until into the book of Revelation, where Jerusalem once again takes centre stage. Therefore, I came to realise that this specific city holds a very prominent place in God's word to mankind.

But there was an issue left from my days of being an atheist. I was still a devout evolutionist. It was while I was alone in the house during a thunderstorm when I felt a curiosity about how it all began. So, turning to Genesis chapters 1-3, I began to read. And I gasped as I read. Especially about the Fall of Adam and Eve in chapter 3. I thought, No, Adam, no, don't do it! AAAHH!

It was as if the Lord Himself was standing in front of me, offering a choice in what to believe - Evolution or Creation. I didn't hesitate. I believed in Creationism straight away. It was as if the Lord was pleased with my decision and opened the door for knowledge to increase, along with the wonderful privilege to visit this fascinating city in person.

It wasn't long after I had flown the nest and moved into a bachelor pad in 1976 before I had the desire to visit Israel. But not in a tour group. Instead, I wanted to visit the Holy Land on my own, as a backpacker, very much as I travelled across Europe since 1973. And so, still immature and naive as I was, I boarded the airline at Heathrow to Tel Aviv - alone. And my work colleagues were fascinated with me for heading to the Middle East as an independent in the first place.

But I shouldn't have been surprised. After landing at Ben Gurion Airport, I took a taxi to Jerusalem, and the cabbie recommended the Ron Hotel for me. After arrival, I paid the cabbie off, and entered the hotel and asked if there's a room. Thank goodness the receptionist understood English! Suddenly I felt a sense of relief as I climbed the stairs to my assigned room.

As I lay on the bed, suddenly from outside, there was a loud sound of a gunshot. Not from a rifle but from something far more powerful. The boom echoed across the city. Then I knew that this was no beach holiday. Rather, I was in the midst of a war zone. But I was determined to make the best of this trip and see the city so familiar to Jesus Christ, his disciples, and the prophets.

And how I loved the Old City of Jerusalem! Back in 1976, before Israel became more westernised, there was much of the Middle East culture still intact. In the Old City, the streets, or souks, had a gulley running down the centre of the street. Into which slops, including droppings from passing donkeys, were washed into and drained away. Middle East music, very different from our western music, dominated the radio waves. The call to prayer echoed from the minarets of mosques seen across East Jerusalem, such calls echoed eerily down the Kidron Valley. The currency was the Israeli Pound, left from the former British mandate which ended in 1948. But to walk the streets and to visit the Temple Mount so familiar in the Bible was the ultimate thrill, along with wading through the water flowing through Hezekiah's Tunnel, and to stand at the summit of the Mount of Olives, admiring the splendid view of the city - the view Jesus Himself was so familiar with!

Not all was peaches and cream, though. Nearly every day, Arab youths would take me by my arm and start to tour me around - for a fee. At first, I ended up paying them, but eventually, I learned to say No firmly, without being rude. And when my funds ran low before the time, I was advised to write a letter to my parents to transfer some funds to a certain bank in Jerusalem. By sending the letter to them by special post, within three days, my funds were restored. A very important lesson learned!

My next visit to Jerusalem was in 1993, and again in 1994, when I found out that the Prime Minister of Israel, Yitzhak Rabin, held a conference at the Ron Hotel with PLO leader Yasser Arafat over the proposal to hand over East Jerusalem to the Palestinians, very much against the wishes of the Israelis. A huge crowd of Israelis were demonstrating at Zion Square, spilling into Jaffa Road and Ben Yehuda Street. Here and there, TV cameras were seen, and I wondered whether this protest demonstration will feature on the BBC News. And I found myself right in the midst of it.

Jews celebrate the Sabbath at the Western Wall, 1993.

Walking across the Land where Jesus Christ trod, was the title of the diary which I kept after returning home from the 1976 trip. To visit the land which proves full verification of the Bible was indeed a wonderful privilege.

With the year 2000 trip to Israel with Alex, the total number of weeks I spent in the Holy Land throughout my life adds up to 22 weeks.