And the Wandering Continues ... 12/20

And now we come to Wednesday the twentieth. This day I did something that I don’t believe I have ever done in my life. Granted, I’ve been doing a lot of those since taking off from the States, but this one was different. I never, not in my wildest dreams, thought I would ever do this.

I got up just to see a sunrise.

Yeah, that’s right. Me, the guy who has to be dragged out of bed by a team of mules or launched from it with dynamite actually chose to get up a full forty-five minutes earlier than I had to in order to see the sunrise.

Here’s the catch. I got up to see the sun rise over the Sea of Galilee. The Kibbutz that we’re staying at is on the western edge of the Sea of Galilee so, obviously, it’s the perfect position to watch the sunrise. I just couldn’t pass that up. Granted, I was so excited about that thought when the alarm actually went off and it was still dark outside. I think the thoughts that were foremost at that moment were along the lines of murdering the machine known as the alarm clock. But it was very much worth it.

Now please don’t kill me for this, but I didn’t take my camera with me. I went simply to enjoy the sunrise and be a bit contemplative. It really was amazing and very much worth while. Again, don’t kill me for not taking pictures. Beth got pictures of it that morning and I do believe I will be getting up for it again before we leave so I’ll take pictures then. Either way, I will have pictures of the sunrise over the Sea of Galilee.

After quite the interesting breakfast (and no, I did not even try the smoked fish) we departed for a day traveling through the northern regions of Israel. We began by traveling around the southern tip and then running road reminiscent of highway twenty up the eastern edge. About half way between the southern tip and the northern end we took a six or seven kilometer detour up into the Golan Heights in order to see the views of the Sea of Galilee from up there. It was, to drastically understate, spectacular. I thought the sunrise had been worth seeing. This was better by far.

Retracing our steps back to the highway (if you can call it that) we continued north until we came within sight of Mount Hermon. For me, that was really cool. Having lived in the Mount Hermon of California for so long it seemed somehow extraordinary to see the “real” one. I did get pictures of that.

From there we continued on to Ceserea Phillipi.

“Upon this rock I will build my Church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” ~ Jesus Christ

Hmmm…no, I won’t go into a sermon here and now. Many of you have probably already heard my newest tangent involving that proclamation of Jesus at Ceserea Phillipi. For those of you who haven’t, I’ll probably wind up posting about it on one of my blogs soon. Or, if you were at Bible School, you heard most of it from Steve Byler. Yes, I will admit, he’s the one who got me started on the whole thing.

Anyways, I really enjoyed seeing that area and putting a lot of the pieces into place for a lot of the things I’ve been thinking recently. That was probably my favorite biblical site that we’ve seen so far.

Then came what has, for me, been the best stop of the entire trip; Nimrod Fortress. Although it completely lacks any biblical significance, Nimrod Fortress was a Crusader castle. Yes Dallas, be jealous. I spent about an hour and a half walking around the ruins of a castle from the time of the crusades. Had you been able to keep up, watching me would have been something akin to watch Ezra at a giant playground. I was pretty excited.

I could have spent another four or five hours there without hardly knowing it. I didn’t even begin to explore all of the areas you were allowed in. But alas, it was an extra stop and we didn’t have much time there.

Very close to the fortress was Tel Dan. That was our next stop. The Tel itself wasn’t much different than the others we have visited. However, to get there we walked through a beautiful nature preserve full of streams and waterfalls. There was even a stone lined pool about halfway up the path that was absolutely stunning. It really made me wish I was a photographer. With how much of an amateur I am at photography I doubt that I was really able to capture it. I hope Beth got some good shots.

From Tel Dan we traveled west; way west. In fact, we traveled so far west that if we had driven any more west we would have gotten very wet. That’s right, we drove to the Mediterranean Sea. Rosh Hanikra was, quite literally, breathtaking. The cliffs were so white and the water was such a clear blue…I don’t think I can even describe it. Between the three of us with cameras, we went crazy here. Lots and lots of pictures were taken to say the least.

After looking at the tourist attraction there, we drove down a few hundred meters and spent nearly an hour enjoying the rocky beach below the cliffs and getting pictures of the sun setting below the Mediterranean. Again, the water was so clear and so blue that I just wanted to jump in and swim. However, the patrol boat about two hundred meters offshore kept me from doing so. With the Israeli-Lebanon border not even a kilometer north, I had a feeling that they wouldn’t take too kindly to someone in the water. That and the wind was rather cold. So yeah, I didn’t swim. Wanted to, but didn’t.

Once again we drove back to the Kibbutz in the dark and once again I simply crashed. For some reason I am really getting tired easily on this trip. I’m going to chalk it up to jet lag. Yeah, that sounds good…

Down the Jericho Road ... 12/19

And now I must actually blog about my travels in Israel. Yes, my trip here and the stay in Italy were fascinating, but the true purpose of both this trip and this blog is to see Israel. So, on to Israel!

As I said in my last post, I arrived about twenty-six hours later than scheduled. I missed an entire day of the trip. However, this wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t miss anything that we won’t be doing again. I did arrive in time to eat dinner at the Grand Court Hotel there in Jerusalem. That was good since I hadn’t eaten yet that day. I was rather famished and ate quite heartily. I’m not sure what most of it was, but it was good and I wasn’t asking. I was just eating.

We started the next day bright and early. My alarm went off at five o’clock. Yes, I know, there are no vestiges of sanity in those who awaken at such an hour. I never claimed any.


We loaded up the car, ate breakfast there at the hotel, and headed out before seven. The night before we had received an invitation for a feast in Canna of Galilee so we had that as our eventual goal. So the plan was to go from Jerusalem to Bet She’an, Bet She’an to Megiddo, and then Megiddo up to Canna of Galilee. The plan was to stop and tour the Tels at both Bet She’an and Megiddo.

Now, the most direct route from Jerusalem to Bet She’an is through Jericho. That would be great except for the fact that the residents of Jericho are decidedly against anything Israeli and the van that we are driving has Israeli plates. Dr. Fisher said that driving through there would be a guaranteed way to get our van stoned and would give us a good chance of being shot at. With those odds against us, we decided that it would be the wiser course of action to travel a few kilometers out of our way and drive around Jericho.

South of Jericho, north of the Dead Sea, and west of the Jordan river, we found a sign by the side of the road that proudly proclaimed that this spot, right there, was exactly at sea level. Now, as fascinating as that fact was, it’s not what made this particular gravel turn off worthy of stopping at. That was the fault of the camel.

Yes, that’s right. There was a camel there. There was also a guy who owned and “ran” the camel, but he wasn’t quite as interesting. More than just having a camel though, he was also offering rides for ten shekels (about $2.50) each. Needless to say, we couldn’t resist. At that price, all three of us “newbies” went ahead and rode. It was, to put it mildly, hilarious.

First, the camel had to kneel down. Then we mounted. At least I think that’s what you would call it. Then the thing stood up. That was the interesting part. It felt like you were going to fall off forwards, then it felt like you were going to fall of backwards, then you had to figure out which way was which, and then you were up. I’m sure I had the strangest expression on my face the whole time. Here’s hoping that nobody snapped a picture or two during that six second process.

Once you were up, the camel’s owner led you around for a few seconds, gave you the reigns so that your group could take pictures of you without him leading, led you in front of the sea level sign so that you could get pictures of that, and then led you back and had the camel kneel down so you could dismount.

The kneeling down was just as bad as the standing up; just in reverse. Yeah, quite the experience. It was fun though. I wasn’t actually worried about falling off, it just felt like I was going to. There’s a distinct difference there you know.

From there we drove directly to Bet She’an without any further stops. Bet She’an was amazing. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the terms, a “Tel” is a city site where down through the ages they haven’t changed where the city itself is. They just kind of level off the existing ruins and build on top of them. The result is an artificial hill with layers upon layers of ancient civilizations buried within. A pretty cool concept if you ask me.


I understand that the most recent use of the Tel at Bet She’an was by the Greeks around the time of Christ. However, being the predecessors of American Laziness, the Greeks didn’t bother to build on the top of the hill. Instead they built their town sprawled around the base of the Tel and only used the Tel itself for a temple to Zeus. I must confess that I found the Greek ruins around the base much more fascinating than the Egyptian and Israelite ruins at the top.

From Bet She’an we drove up the Jezreel valley to Megiddo and more specifically Tel Megiddo. While this was a much larger Tel, there wasn’t nearly as much to be seen due to the absence of a Greek presence. However, this site gave a much better picture of what exactly a Tel was and how it worked.

After that tour we headed north and west to Canna of Galilee where we were to partake of the feast. This was the highlight of my day. We arrive about 3:30 in the afternoon, much earlier than we had originally planned. Because of this, Dr. Fisher’s friend who had invited us was not even at home when we arrived. So, showing great hospitality, our host’s brother generously invited us wait in his home. We spent nearly an hour visiting with him, his wife and his son. During this time I made the greatest discovery of the trip; Arabian Coffee.

I was hooked at the first scent. You’ve heard of Cowboy Coffee where you can through the horse shoe in the pot and it will stand up? Well this stuff’s so black, strong, and think that the horse shoe would float! Oh yeah, my kind of coffee. I guess my enthusiasm made it out into my facial expression because I endured a great deal of teasing from our hosts about how this coffee would make my beard grow thick. Hey, can’t hurt and it’s worth a try. Especially when it tastes that good!

While the wondrous taste of the coffee was still in my mouth, our host made his appearance. Speaking in halting English he welcomed us all very, very warmly. With him as our guide we embarked on a tour of the two local churches; one a Franciscan Catholic and one a Greek Orthodox. Our host belonged to the Greek Orthodox. Both were amazing. The architecture, the artifacts, and (in the Greek Orthodox one) the wood carvings were all well worth seeing. As we were leaving the Greek Orthodox church the priest asked if we would allow him to serve us coffee. So, much to my delight and Beth’s horror, we drank another small cup of Arabian Coffee. Mmmm….

By this point it was rapidly becoming dark so we made our way back to the house where we would be feasting and promptly began. Man, when they say feast they really mean feast! Two salads, stuffed vegetables, roasted chicken with vegetables, and multiple sauces and drinks. The food was wonderful and the fellowship was even better. For desert they had fruit, cookies, and (best of all) more of the nectar straight from the gates of heaven that they called Arabian Coffee. This time I was able to have two glasses.

After thanking our host and his wife profusely, we made our way to the Sea of Galilee itself and our Kibbutz right along its shore. It was dark when we drove in so we really didn’t get a good look at the Sea, but it was still cool to know that we were along the shores of Galilee.

With such an exciting day and dealing with more than a little bit of jet lag, I decided to spend my evening in a simply marvelous fashion. I slept. Yes, despite the four cups of Arabian Coffee from that afternoon and evening I zonked out and enjoyed the very comfortable bed provided for me.

*A deep, very KJV sounding narrator’s voice begins drolling in the background*

“Thus ends the account of the first day in the travels of Jonathan Marshall. Tune in next time to hear the fascinating continuation of this and other stories. If you have enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to the ‘Line Jonathan’s Pockets Foundation’. Thank you, and good night.”

The Trip There ... 12/16-12/18

Wow!

Yeah, that’s word for it. And yes, Dallas, every meaning of that word. To start with, it was not my day for air travel. Let me explain.

According to my ticket, which I purchased months ago, I was scheduled to fly from Little Rock to Atlanta, Atlanta to Milan (Italy), and then Milan to Tel Aviv (Israel). Sounds great, right? Yeah, I thought so too. Granted, I only had about an hour and a half layover in Milan, but at least I’d be able to say I was there even if I didn’t get to actually leave the airport. I thought it was pretty cool.

Then I arrived at the airport there in Little Rock. Stupid me, I had forgotten to call the day before and check the flight schedule. They had changed it and hadn’t notified me. Instead of flying out at 11:40am the flight I was supposed to be on had taken off at 7:00am. In talking to them I learned that it was indeed their fault and that they should have called me, e-mailed me, or something so they were more than happy to get me on another flight.

The problem was, there was no other flight to Atlanta. I’ll admit, that kind of freaked me out. At first they were talking about sending me to Tel Aviv by another route. I think Zurich (Switzerland) was the airport they mentioned. However, when I told them that I was supposed to be meeting the rest of my party in Milan and then flying with them to Tel Aviv, they quickly shifted gears and started trying to get me to meet up with my flight to Milan from Atlanta.

To make a very long story very short indeed, I made it to Atlanta in time for my original flight to Milan. True, I got there by way of Cincinnati, but I’m not going to quibble about that. At least I got there. And hey, I saw a new airport. It was a pretty good deal.

The funny thing was, even though I arrived at my departure gate in Atlanta a mere fifteen minutes before the flight to Milan was scheduled to take off (Yes, ask me about running five terminals worth of the Atlanta airport sometime…) the boarding area was still packed with people waiting to board. I was expecting to be the last one on. You know, roll in Secret Agent style just as they were closing the door. Yeah, that’s kind of what I had in mind.

But like I said, that wasn’t the case. Not at all. As it turned out, the flight had been delayed coming in so, naturally, it was delayed in its departure.

To once again significantly shorten a rather long story, the flight was delayed just over two hours.

Aha! I hear those gears grinding in your heads. That’s right, I only had an hour and a half worth of layover in Milan. No, the math doesn’t work and no, just because I teach math doesn’t mean I can make those numbers add up. It didn’t work. I missed my flight.

Not a big deal though, or so I kept telling myself, I landed at 10:30 and the stewardess told me that there was another flight leaving for Tel Aviv at 12:30. I would have plenty of time to make that flight. Dr. Fisher would realize what happened and wait for me at the airport in Tel Aviv. I’d already left a message on his phone explaining everything from Atlanta. I just knew this wasn’t going to be a problem.

That was, until I found the transfers desk and realized just how long this was going to take. There were about fifty of us on the flight from Atlanta who had missed our connections. No, not a pretty sight. Most of these people where very upset. The ladies working the transfer desk were about to go nuts with all the work and grumpy people.

This is when I learned my first lesson in dealing with people from other cultures:

Sarcasm is completely lost on people who are not native speakers of your language.

Oh, I can hear you laughing. It was pretty funny. After waiting in line for over half an hour I finally stepped up to the counter when the lady called “The next one please!” in a stiff Italian accent and brightly commented, “Boy, it sure looks like you’re all having fun!”

Seriously, my voice wasn’t just dripping with sarcasm, it was marinated in it! But just as seriously, she missed it. All I got was a look that could have curdled milk while it was still in the cow and a very stern, “We are working very, very hard here. What is it you need?”

So yeah, that’s lesson number one.

Once again, I will abbreviate this story immensely in order to make it readable in a single sitting.

They got me a boarding pass, they checked my bags, they were about to escort me to the gate so that I would make it on time, and security showed up. It seems that they had forgotten that there was a routine round of questioning required before I could board the plane. The questions weren’t a big deal and the guy asking them was pretty cool, but it was another delay of about a half hour. Yup, you guessed it. I missed that flight too.

So there I was, once again dumped rather unceremoniously at the Delta check-in counter wondering what on earth was next. By this time I was pretty sick and tired of dragging my suitcases around the Milan airport.

Then the strangest news of all came. There were no more flights to Tel Aviv that day. Not only that but all the flights going to other airports in Europe that had flights to Tel Aviv that day were full. There was no way to get me to Tel Aviv that day and the first of the two flights the next day was full as well. I was going to be there in Milan until 12:30pm the following day.

I was inwardly groaning at the prospect of spending the night curled up in one of the seriously messed up airport chairs behind me when the lady at the counter suddenly handed me my ticket for the next day and told me that a driver would be there in just a few moments to pick me up to take me to the hotel.

Yes, I got to spend the night in Northern Italy and not in the airport!

I was pretty jazzed. As it turned out, the Milan airport is actually about 55 kilometers outside of Milan itself and so they put me up in a hotel in a nearby village. After checking in, putting my bags in the room, and calling my folks I hit the streets; camera in hand. That was so much fun.

I found out rather quickly that the name of the village was “Somma Lombardo.” Pretty cool, huh Pop-pop? It was quite small with a population of just over six thousand and a lot of fun to walk around. Trying to find a gift shop, I talked to a lady who knew about ten English words. Seeing as how I know three Italian words, we had quite the lively conversation. There were many hand motions, monkey signs, and exasperated sighs, but we were laughing the whole time and I’m fairly sure we both enjoyed it. I know I did at least.

After a couple hours of walking I returned to the hotel, ate a quick dinner at the restaurant there, and went up to my room and crashed. Thirteen hours later, my alarm clock went off. Yeah, I was that tired.

I caught the airport shuttle from the lobby and back to the airport I went. My problems were not yet over though. When I went to check into the flight, the “standard” round of questioning was much more strenuous than it had been the day before. I think the lady was just having a bad day and taking it out on me. Whatever the reason, she decided that she didn’t like my answers and called her supervisor over. So I talked to her supervisor and her both for another fifteen minutes. At least he seemed to be in a good mood and was quite pleasant. However, she was still pitching a fit over something (I still don’t know what, they were arguing in Italian) and so they decided that I would get a complete search. That took about an hour and half.

I kid you not. First they pulled me off behind the curtains away from the rest of the passengers in line. Then they brought in the Italian police so that the police could get my permission to give the airline permission to search my bags without me present. Then the police officer had to go get a form for me to sign to prove that I had agreed to this. Then they had me open my bags and show them all the electronics in them. Then they took me somewhere else and searched me. Then I waited for about an hour before the supervisor finally showed up holding, of all things, the packet of tuna that Mom had me bring for a snack.

With a very grim face the security supervisor told me that everything except this one item had cleared their search and that if I wanted to board the plane I would have to agree to have this item destroyed. It was all I could do not to bust a gut laughing. I readily gave my permission and things started happening.

They quickly tagged my bags for the trip, gave me back my shoes, sweater, and passport (These were the items they had confiscated when they started the search) and escorted me to the gate.

I really don’t know why I was so tired, but I was. I fell asleep during take off. I didn’t even make it until the pilot turned off the seat belt light. I just zonked out. I woke up half way through the “The Illusionist”, watched the last half of it, and then we landed about twenty minutes later.

I was picked up at the Tel Aviv airport, driven to the Grand Court Hotel in Jerusalem, and there is where I met up with the rest of the group. I was about 26 hours late, but I got here. It was quite an adventure.

In the Beginning...

Well folks, this is it. Yes indeed, this is the great day which many of us have been looking forward to for some time. Today is the official beginning of this blog marking the beginning of the official record of my trip to Israel.

For those of you who have stumbled onto this site from some source other than myself or one of my friends, I am Jonathan Marshall. As a follower of Christ, a slightly eccentric algebra teacher, and all around nut-case, it is my pleasure to welcome you to this blog.

Over the next three weeks I will be attempting to update this blog as often as possible with pictures, stories, and other varieties of pointless yet hopefully entertaining information about my wanderings in the Holy Lands.

And that, my friends, is about all I have to say. Please, leave me a note and let me know you're reading. That will be quite encouraging. But be aware, I hope to post much longer and more interesting articles in the future.

Until then,
Jonathan Marshall
Galatians 2:20