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.

Travel Biography - Week 7.

My visit to the fortress sitting over the Cave of Machpelah has set my faith in the historicity of the Bible in stone. I could add that I now personally refer to this edifice as The Stone Bible, as its floor covers the Biblical cave that contains the bones of three men and their wives, the Hebrew patriarchs who were the founders of the nation of Israel, and whose ground it now stands as a sentinel, witnessing to the rest of the world of the Covenant God made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that He would give this land on which it stands to their descendants.

Dead Sea Bathing.

But our journey didn't end there. Before setting off in the first place, Abed my host and a self-made guide, asked if I would like to have a dip in the Dead Sea. Indeed, I was keen. A Sherut escorted us from Hebron to drop us off at a beach on the northern tip of the Dead Sea, or the Hebrew, Yam HaMelakh (Sea of Salt) or the Arabic, Bahr Lut (Sea of Lot) is actually an elongated lake some 295 metres below sea level, nestling within the Great Rift Valley, approximately a 4,000-mile, 6,500 km long crack in the Earth between Syria and Mozambique, caused by the movement of two continental plates.

Floating in the Dead Sea, stock photo.

Abed and I arrived at a beach resort in Kalia, on the northern end of the lake and near the international border with Jordan. As with Bethlehem and Hebron, the lake's western side is in the West Bank territory, which continues southwards until just north of Masada and the start of the Negev Desert. Here, the Israel/West Bank boundary swings eastwards to end at the international boundary with Jordan, cutting the lake into two territorial halves and extending to the northern tip of the Red Sea, just east of the resort of Eilat.

I stripped to my swimming trunks and waded into the saline water. At Kalia, the beach sloped very gently into the lake and had to wade up between fifty and a hundred metres to reach chest depth. But once at that spot, I felt as if I was pushed up by the density of the oily water and I was able to lie on my back as if lying on a soft mattress.

A little of the water managed to get into my eyes, and they burned severely for a short while. Likewise, any drop entering my mouth burned my tongue. This was due to the high 25% salination of the water that has made the lake uninhabitable to any aquatic life, whether it'll be fish or crustaceans. It's this which gives the sea its uniqueness. Somewhat unlike the aptly-named Salt Lake in Utah, I visited a year later in 1977. This American lake with the world's second highest saline content was the home of countless tiny shrimps.

The heavy air that hung over the Dead Sea was also totally silent and calm. There was no usual sound of human activity that characterises the beach of a typical holiday resort. Instead, this beach was all but deserted, the silence of death hung over the calm, saline water, and the hot sun beat down.

Jericho.

After the swim, I donned my shirt after a cool, freshwater shower. Then the two of us began to make our way by sherut to our final stop, Jericho, or at least the ancient ruins.

The site covers a small area, itself on a high mound known as Tell. Characteristic of many sites of ancient cities in the Middle East, as a new city was built directly over an older one without any demolishing in between, some of the buildings slowly crumbled to form a solid mound, basically a man-made hill or tell rising from either a natural rise or otherwise a flat plain.

Jericho lies nearly 15 miles or 24 km northeast of Jerusalem and holds the longstanding Biblical story of how Joshua ordered his army to march once around the city for six days. On the seventh day, the army then marched around the outside of the city seven times before the walls of the city fell on themselves, allowing the Israelites to run into it and set the city on fire. Whether marching around the perimeter of the settlement 13 times in a week had any geologic effect or not, the fact that how a brisk walk around the outside of its walls could have been possible was confirmed by the overall size of the entire site. It was no larger than Trafalgar Square in London, typical of any Canaanite city-state in this part of the world, each settlement having had its own "king" or chief, and a formidable army. Unfortunately, I didn't see any remains of such a fallen wall. Neither had the archaeologist ever seen it, thus to them, throwing doubt on the historicity of the Bible.

Abed and I stood on a raised walkway and I was able to look down into the site. The most outstanding ruin was that of a tower, believed to be Neolithic. According to the secular archaeologist, that is around 7,000-8,000 BC. Back in 1976, as I stood on the walkway, I could see a small doorway leading into the tower, hinting that the structure was hollow and could accommodate people. However, according to more recent photography, this cavity has now been walled up. As for the fallen walls of Joshua's day, unbelievers use its absence to justify their fictionalising of the Bible. Yet I ponder. Why should the rubble last so long without crumbling into dust or the building blocks ransacked by pillagers? Or even recycled when the city was rebuilt under King Ahab around 850 BC? The very fact that I saw the tower so perfectly intact, even now I wonder whether this structure was rebuilt around 850 BC. If so, it would fit well within Biblical chronology and also explain the rubble's disappearance.

The Tower at ancient Jericho as I saw it.

Preparing for the Journey North.

At the Spihu's home, there were times when all I wanted to do was to sit in their front yard and even watch the Arab children play in the nearby school playground. The bay outside the house was also the terminus of the local bus route, a short journey to the Arab Bus Station at Nablus Road. One afternoon, I watched Ghanem do some home plumbing work as thoroughly as any trained professional. Quite an achievement in my opinion, as the schoolboy teenager will study to become a medic in the years to come. I also had an opportunity of an experience to sleep under the stars. This was possible as all houses in Silwan were flat-roofed and surrounded by a parapet. However, in a desert environment, the night grew chilly, and I didn't sleep that well.

On another afternoon, a wedding took place among Abed's friends across the street. I was invited as a guest of honour to their reception that was held downstairs in the front yard. Here in the UK, when thinking of weddings and the reception that follows, one envisages all the men dressed in a suit and tie, coupled with the best of traditional respectability. When I was in Silwan, I saw that everyone was dressed in their normal casuals, and with me wearing just an open-collar summer shirt for a top, I fitted in well. But the reality of Biblical life drew into sharp focus when dinner had to be prepared.

A live sheep was brought into the yard, and struggling somewhat as if it knew its fate. One of the hosts then slit its throat, and the animal lay thrashing its legs as the blood flowed into a central drain, as if the opening was located specifically for the purpose. Before waiting for the sheep to take its last breath, the host then skinned it alive, the meat was then cut appropriately and roasted before serving. If the reader feels ill at ease with the way I have gone into detail, then consider how people lived daily, especially during Bible times. When pouring into the Bible, I can glibly read:

He took a sheep (or a bull) and prepared it before his guests.

But this experience has brought everything into proper focus, and as I see it, a better way to experience Biblical life rather than just read about it and then attend a theological college.

The time arrived when I wanted a bit of time on my own and to explore the Galilee region. The Spihu family was happy with me making the journey and asked if I return to them before flying back home to the UK. I agreed.

The Egged Bus departed from the Israeli bus station at Jaffa Road to make its 2.5-hour journey north, along the Jordan River, to finish at Tiberias on the west coast of the Sea of Galilee, itself about 100 miles, 164 km north of Jerusalem.  It was evening when I arrived at the main town of Galilee, with the lake so impressive as I looked east towards Syria which, in 1976, still borders much of the eastern shore before the annexation of the Golan Heights by Israel on December 14, 1981.

But I still have to look for accommodation, as I was planning to spend a week here. During my search, I came across a hospice with young Christian men milling around. Very much westernised, these believers were about my age, and I approached them to ask about where I can stay. They weren't able to accommodate me themselves but instead recommended a hotel further down the road. Soon, I found the place, Aviv Hotel, south of the town and within easy reach of all the local attractions.

I was relieved when a room was offered. Thus began my lone stay in the Galilean region. As I made my way to the gently-lapping beach of the lake, made so famous as the site of Jesus' early ministry, I just sat down and meditated in the night.

Lake Tiberias, the Sea of Galilee, the Lake Kinneret, or the Lake of Gennesaret, whatever name you choose, refers to the harp-shaped freshwater lake which is 200 metres below sea level. Its location is right at the northern tip of the Great Rift Valley, and on the far side, the mountains of Syria are clearly seen, and this view is maintained right the way through along the Jordan River, across the Dead Sea, along the edge of the Negev Desert to the Red Sea, and along the Gulf of Aqaba.  

The Sea of Galilee is fed by the northern tributary of the Jordan River which has its source in the Mt Herman area of the Golan Heights. From it flows the main Jordan River south to the Dead Sea, where the latter, without an outlet, maintains its depth through evaporation. Also, unlike the Dead Sea, Lake Kinneret is abundant with fish, of which a fishing industry thrived at the time of Jesus, and from this flotilla of boats, Jesus called at least four of his disciples - Peter, Andrew, James and John.

The Sea of Galilee.

Much of the week, I spent at Tiberias itself, just taking in the calmness of the lake. Just north of the town was the aptly named Lido Beach, and for a small fee, I was able to swim in the lake. A little distance out from the beach was a dividing wall. The area within this wall was for families with small children. Beyond the wall, a much larger area was for stronger swimmers in deeper water. And it was in this deeper water where I thoroughly enjoyed the coolness from the hot Mediterranean sunshine.

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Next Week: Capaunum and Nazareth.