I learned the names of only a few on the Holy Land trip. Tuesday morning, I ate breakfast with James from Phoenix. Prior to becoming a Catholic in the week before Pope Benedict resigned, James was a rosary-prayin' Episcopalian. He, as well as a few others, could be spotted from time to time with rosary in hand.
Tuesday's itinerary was light on account of our crossing into Jordan. Our Israeli tour guide, Remy, reiterated over and over again the crossings we'd be taking, to leave Israel, the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, and to return on Thursday, Allenby Bridge. Leaving Israel was easy enough. We left the bus, went inside, received the exit "stamp" - a separate slip of paper - at passport control, passed through the duty-free shop and got back on our bus after showing a guard our passports and exit permit.
Our bus driver was allowed to bring us across where we unloaded everything, left it and entered the customs building. All the visas and taxes had been taken care of by the travel agency. Only the Kenyan passport among us caused a significant wrangling with officials for our Jordanian tour guide, Omar, a.k.a, Gabriel. He had us line up, ten at a time, to hand over our passport, stand for two iris images that required us to stare without blinking for longer than most could do, then wait. I realized how long it was taking and walked out to the parking lot to bring in my backpack with my camera and iPad because of the heat. Shortly, we all left to wait in the parking lot. Omar brought out our passports and distributed them. He warned us against removing the bar code fixed to our picture page that included all our information about this entry.
Then we walked across the parking lot to feed our luggage and ourselves through the X-ray machines. We boarded our new bus and met our new driver, Abdul. Fr. Jim talked Omar into taking us to the baptismal site at the Jordan River right away which we did although it was nearing lunch time.
Looking across to Israel
We renewed our baptismal vows, a common thing to do on such occasions. A stone font had water in it, refreshed daily. I might have dipped my hand, I can't remember. Many people took water. Friends back home wanted water from both the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River. You realize it's the same water.
A number of churches in the vicinity because the site commemorates Joshua's crossing the Jordan, Elijah's ascension to heaven and Jesus' baptism.
Back to our regular itinerary, we needed lunch, stat. Gabriel got a friend to deliver forty turkey and cheese sandwiches with chips, banana, soda for us - $10 each - at the top of Mount Nebo. Turkey & cheese - I was so done with kosher.
I noticed, kind of all at once, that Hebrew was gone from everywhere. Signs were only in Arabic and English.
So, with not really enough time to digest, if you know what I mean, we walked up to the Moses Memorial, a Franciscan basilica that sits on Mount Nebo for mass. Unequivocally, I liked this church the best. The incorporation of the preserved archeological artifacts made it a living museum. I liked the desert colors, tans and yellows. The wood paneling above the stone foundation was like a barn, but in a warm, cozy way. To call a church "a barn" usually means it's too big but I am talking specifically about wood framing on stone, although barns are usually based on cinderblock.
Such treasures
As a small group, we all fit within the sanctuary. I had figured out by now that the selected readings were not based on the church calendar but on the biblical significance of the site. If I remember correctly, the readings were Numbers 21, and John 3, so probably what is read on September 14, the Exaltation of the Cross.
I found the winding road to the right more interesting than the view towards the Dead Sea. But the Dead Sea is visible near the center of the picture below.
We began the three hour drive to Petra. As we set out, we picked up an armed tourist policeman near his home. He was on our bus for our two days in Jordan. He was so discreet that some were unaware of his presence. He stood in the stairwell and smoked during our stops.
Highway traffic control in Jordan is different than in Israel. Israel uses roundabouts to slow traffic. Jordan uses what appeared to be metal cuffs embedded in the roadway. I noticed our driver slowing and resuming speed.
The hotel in Petra, a Marriott, was amazing. I was so comfortable there. The service was incredible. Our bags went through screening. Dinner that evening was a traditionally Bedouin tent dinner. Tim loved it. There was live music with singing, and they cooked in the ground. A pleasant night to eat outside. Plenty of hookah pipes on-hand; everyone in Jordan smokes.
Tuesday's itinerary was light on account of our crossing into Jordan. Our Israeli tour guide, Remy, reiterated over and over again the crossings we'd be taking, to leave Israel, the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, and to return on Thursday, Allenby Bridge. Leaving Israel was easy enough. We left the bus, went inside, received the exit "stamp" - a separate slip of paper - at passport control, passed through the duty-free shop and got back on our bus after showing a guard our passports and exit permit.
Our bus driver was allowed to bring us across where we unloaded everything, left it and entered the customs building. All the visas and taxes had been taken care of by the travel agency. Only the Kenyan passport among us caused a significant wrangling with officials for our Jordanian tour guide, Omar, a.k.a, Gabriel. He had us line up, ten at a time, to hand over our passport, stand for two iris images that required us to stare without blinking for longer than most could do, then wait. I realized how long it was taking and walked out to the parking lot to bring in my backpack with my camera and iPad because of the heat. Shortly, we all left to wait in the parking lot. Omar brought out our passports and distributed them. He warned us against removing the bar code fixed to our picture page that included all our information about this entry.
Then we walked across the parking lot to feed our luggage and ourselves through the X-ray machines. We boarded our new bus and met our new driver, Abdul. Fr. Jim talked Omar into taking us to the baptismal site at the Jordan River right away which we did although it was nearing lunch time.
We renewed our baptismal vows, a common thing to do on such occasions. A stone font had water in it, refreshed daily. I might have dipped my hand, I can't remember. Many people took water. Friends back home wanted water from both the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River. You realize it's the same water.
A number of churches in the vicinity because the site commemorates Joshua's crossing the Jordan, Elijah's ascension to heaven and Jesus' baptism.
Back to our regular itinerary, we needed lunch, stat. Gabriel got a friend to deliver forty turkey and cheese sandwiches with chips, banana, soda for us - $10 each - at the top of Mount Nebo. Turkey & cheese - I was so done with kosher.
I noticed, kind of all at once, that Hebrew was gone from everywhere. Signs were only in Arabic and English.
So, with not really enough time to digest, if you know what I mean, we walked up to the Moses Memorial, a Franciscan basilica that sits on Mount Nebo for mass. Unequivocally, I liked this church the best. The incorporation of the preserved archeological artifacts made it a living museum. I liked the desert colors, tans and yellows. The wood paneling above the stone foundation was like a barn, but in a warm, cozy way. To call a church "a barn" usually means it's too big but I am talking specifically about wood framing on stone, although barns are usually based on cinderblock.
As a small group, we all fit within the sanctuary. I had figured out by now that the selected readings were not based on the church calendar but on the biblical significance of the site. If I remember correctly, the readings were Numbers 21, and John 3, so probably what is read on September 14, the Exaltation of the Cross.
I found the winding road to the right more interesting than the view towards the Dead Sea. But the Dead Sea is visible near the center of the picture below.
We began the three hour drive to Petra. As we set out, we picked up an armed tourist policeman near his home. He was on our bus for our two days in Jordan. He was so discreet that some were unaware of his presence. He stood in the stairwell and smoked during our stops.
Highway traffic control in Jordan is different than in Israel. Israel uses roundabouts to slow traffic. Jordan uses what appeared to be metal cuffs embedded in the roadway. I noticed our driver slowing and resuming speed.
The hotel in Petra, a Marriott, was amazing. I was so comfortable there. The service was incredible. Our bags went through screening. Dinner that evening was a traditionally Bedouin tent dinner. Tim loved it. There was live music with singing, and they cooked in the ground. A pleasant night to eat outside. Plenty of hookah pipes on-hand; everyone in Jordan smokes.
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