Travel Biography - Week 54.

Mountains and Valleys.

The photos are from the 2000 Album.

When it comes to writing a Travel Biography, it isn't meant to be about sunning on the beach all day or a life of constant pleasantries. Or else, I wouldn't bother writing a biography, and besides, I'm sure that some, if not most of my readers, would get fed up over someone on a constant high and lapping up life as if he was a spoilt rich celebrity or even a royal. After all, imagine a landscape. Which would be of greater interest: a topography of flat fields stretching to the horizon, or that of high mountains and deep valleys? As the lyrics of one sixties pop song went, the mountain stream is more pleasing than the sea.

Jaffa Gate as seen from the Citadel Turret.

And for mountains to exist, there have to be steep valleys in between, separating them. And so with my travel experiences. Along with the high points, there were disasters too. And here, I'm not talking about the theft of my Traveller's Cheques whilst on the train from Pisa to Florence during the 1981 trip to Italy. That was just a temporary blip which was resolved on the next working day. Rather, this is about day-to-day personal relationships while I was volunteering at Stella Carmel Guesthouse and Christian Conference Centre in Isfya, a village on the crest of Mt Carmel, near the port city of Haifa, northern Israel, in the summer of 1994.

Just to note here, ITAC had a rule that applied to all offenders. He was booked on the next flight out of Israel and then escorted direct to the airport from the guesthouse. Then the escort ensured that the wrongdoer was thoroughly checked in and ready to board his flight before returning, alone, to the centre.

And so, not long before my own arrival, a volunteer named Pete became friendly with a female volunteer, and the two were caught kissing. They were brought to the Director's office, and both were immediately expelled. A booking for a flight back to England was made, and the pair was escorted direct to the airport. I believe that I was meant to replace Pete, as I arrived soon after their departure.

There was one female volunteer, Joy, who was from South Africa, but she was rather fond of Sloane Square in London, one of the city's most elitist locations, renowned for its gentility. She spoke about Sloane Square many times. It was her way of telling us that any prospective boyfriend must have an aristocratic background. And then there was Josephine, a radical feminist from New Zealand, who insist on the rise of the New Man, a male who is domestically minded and less of a macho culture. She was a natural-born leader and the other women followed her, admiring her fun-loving extrovert temperament. All the other volunteers and full-time staff were British.

Every week, all the volunteers and staff members gather in the lounge for a discussion with the manager on how the centre should be run. Remembering the lecture I had in North London a few weeks before arriving, I dropped what was to be an awful clanger! I suggested that the females should be assigned more house duties whilst the men should be given heavier maintenance tasks. Jo reacted verbally with hostility. But what made things worse for her and her mates was that the Director agreed to my proposal, seeing that I made sense as well as keeping with ITAC's recommendations.

Living as a Pariah.

Thus, I was looked on as a pariah, mainly by Josephine, throughout the rest of my stay. From that day, I was treated as if I was an Italian Neanderthal, so backwards in culture and uncivilised, that she insisted that I should be forced to become a New Man - less masculine, more feminised and domesticated, as well as having submission and respect for female leadership. Several times she kept mentioning me cleaning the wide corridor floor with my tongue! She hated all Italians for their male-dominated "cultural backwardness" and deeply criticised their country and even its national airline (Alitalia) with the intent to spite me. As for the other females, a couple of others joined Jo in their hatred for me, but not all of them. Joy, by contrast, had a degree of pity for me, and showed no hostility. None of the men appeared hostile either.

I had the bedroom to myself for several weeks before Richard, a graduate of Loughborough University, arrived to join the team and share my bedroom. As a graduate, he too regarded an occasional snore as a nuisance and looked down on me with the idea that I was too beneath him to share a bedroom. That was proved true sometime later when he sent a request to the Director to move me out and relocate, leaving Richard as the sole occupant of the room that was once mine. I was moved into an in-house bedroom as the sole occupant.

Richard graduated in Sport Physiology, and hence not even he escaped the attention of Jo and her friends. Jo teased him in front of the others, on the ridiculousness of spending valuable time at University just to study sports. If only Josephine had been aware that a sports physiologist isn't far from a paramedic.

The darling of all the girls at Stella Carmel was Scott, from Inverness. Tall, slim, and also a graduate, Jo teased him too for being thrifty with his money. And also for apparent cowardice.

On one occasion, Peter and his wife took all of us out for the day. This included a swim in the Sea of Galilee before supper at a restaurant in Tiberias. The beach we arrived at was on the east side of the lake, not far from En Gev. The sea was rough, with large waves lapping the beach.

Only Peter swam out into the rough lake, with me following. As everyone else stood on the beach, Peter and I swam out. However, the Director was a stronger swimmer than I was, as I was more cautious. But at least, I wasn't on the receiving end of Jo's teasing as poor Scott was, as he refused to enter the water, despite Jo egging him on.

The Sea of Galilee, 2000. The Mt of Beatitudes is behind me.

Treachery was never far beneath the surface, even among the men. Trevor never showed any hostility, therefore, I felt confident enough to confide in him. One afternoon, I was in his bedroom whilst Scott, his roommate, was in the shower. I made a passing statement, saying that Joy was a nice-looking young woman. That was all. There were just the two of us. Nobody else was present or, as far as I was aware, within earshot. The statement was quickly forgotten as I moved on.

The next day, Peter called me up to his office. He then asked whether it was true that I took a fancy to Joy. He then warned me of imminent dismissal if anything of the kind reoccurred.

Day by day my spirit fell to lower levels as Josephine's hatred of me intensified. I began to feel very unhappy as a volunteer. With nothing to accuse me of, Jo thought of a plan to rid of me once and for all. So, in agreement with her closest friends, she made a complaint to Peter that I was making animal noises. Well, that was a new one! True, from time to time, I muttered to myself. But howling like a wolf across the valley? No, at least not quite there yet!

Fed up with the torrents of accusations against me, Peter reached the end of his tether. He called Andrew (who always liked me) and together I was given my marching orders. I was crushed beyond repair. I took a walk into the nearby forest and yelled at the top of my voice, alone, out of earshot, angry, miserable, and even frightened. The night that followed was like a vigil. A twisted cord of negative emotions tortured my soul and kept me from sleeping.

However, the following morning, David, one of the older volunteers who was always fond of me, offered his shoulder, and I cracked, weeping like a baby in his arms in front of Peter, his wife, Andrew, Scott, Joy, and Rami, one of the Druze teenagers. Josephine and her closest friends weren't there, having remained in their rooms. I remember the exact date - August 8th, 1994.

Broken Beyond Repair?

I was innocent, and ITAC knew that. Therefore, I was not escorted to the airport. Instead, I was paid a sum of money and taken to Haifa Bus Station. At the station, I was dropped off along with my rucksack, and for the first time since arrival, I was totally alone. It was up to me to arrange my own flight back home when I was ready. In the meantime, I was free to remain in Israel.

Later that day I arrived in Jerusalem and approached the New Swedish Hostel in Souk David. I checked in and paid for nearly a month's stay with the money I was paid at Stella Carmel. I then lived off my own funds.

As I lay on the bed feeling utterly miserable, I was pondering on my faith. This two-month experience at the guesthouse was an utter disaster - caused by one other person. I was convinced that had Josephine not been there, I would have had a better outcome and quite likely lasted the full year, as originally intended. Any hatred thrown at me in Isfya was solely due to Jo's attitude, one of deep insecurity and possibly resentment of her own gender and role in life.

Being in the middle of the afternoon, there was no one else in the dormitory. I was alone as I lay fully clothed on the bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling. There and then I decided to renounce my faith. If Christianity was represented by the daily life at Stella Carmel, with its sham worship, insincere Bible reading and studying, a total absence of fellowship, and an endless contest for personal and gender supremacy, treachery and betrayal, along with the evaluation of a person's worth according to wealth, culture and level of education, and not by faith in Christ - then damn it all! Forget God and his ways. If this means Hell, damn it, so be it. Never again will I ever entangle myself with the church! I had enough!

As I lay on the bed in the heart of Jerusalem Old City, I felt angry, miserable and fearful, knowing that soon I would appear among family and friends with the news that I had failed. My father's already existing suspicion of such Christian organisations will be confirmed and enforced. It was left to me to walk the walk of shame and embarrassment. Indeed, I was in a valley, a very deep valley, perhaps a little like a slot canyon where the wall on each side rose vertically, thus with no way up, but to trundle on along the stream bed, hoping that I would not be swept away by an onrushing flood - a phenomenon set off by heavy rain nearby.

I began to wonder - this thing called Religion. Does it really make one a better person? These people up near Haifa, there was no real love among them. Rather, what I sensed, especially in Josephine, was a strong sense of insecurity, as if she was trying hard to achieve some form of status, and not doing too well at it. Where is this alternate society? A place anyone can run to and find solace, comfort, love, and the start of faith in God. As for the Bible, sure, it's read regularly, and sermons are preached from it, we say we believe in its truthfulness, but does anyone obey it?

Jerusalem 2000

Ah, Jerusalem. Maybe I'll come back here more often. Every year? That seems far-fetched, but who knows, maybe visiting this wonderfully historic and spiritual centre could bring healing to my damaged soul. I need to wait and see.  

Presently, I began to feel strange, as if a voice was calling me, very, very gently. It was as if saying:

Frank, Frank, would you still follow me?

Without further thinking, I responded with,

Yes Lord I will follow you.

And so, I arose and left the dormitory and went out into the street. However, despite that incident in the hostel, my bad feelings hadn't changed. I still felt gutted and wrenched. But I also knew that this was the beginning of the way up. If I likened that to a trail, then the gradience of the path was so slight, that I would walk a long way without climbing very high. It would take a long hike towards recovery.

It was a day before I flew home. I stood on the crest of the Mt of Olives, looking down at the Old City with its glistening gold dome on Temple Mount, and the modern buildings of the New City in the far background. I then had a kind of vision, very much like the one I experienced in October 1992 whilst at work. This time, I was to prepare myself for a flight to the USA exactly a year afterwards, in late summer 1995. I knew straight away that this was a divine revelation, yet without any supernatural phenomena. It was an idea, but a very strong and convincing thought.

But before I move on to 1995, there are still some amazing things to write about during the month I stayed in Jerusalem on recovery therapy after dismissal from Stella Carmel.

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Next Week: A month of Therapy in Jerusalem - and a witness to some outstanding events.