The same day that I'd looked ahead in our itinerary, Remy, the Israeli tour guide, warned us to pack our Dead Sea gear in a carry-on the morning we returned from Jordan because the site would be our first stop after immigration. He didn't want to go into the luggage under the bus hunting for swimsuits and flip flops.
The amenities at the Dead Sea have improved greatly since I was first there in 1999. Much is made of the elevation, as the bar there calls itself "the lowest bar in the world." Tim needed some convincing to wade in because, after all, "dead sea" doesn't sound very appealing. He enjoyed floating. It was shallow but not muddy or slippery as when I took Tim's older brother in February, 2014. I nearly lost my water shoes on that occasion.
Remy gave us an hour, an adequate amount of time. There are numerous wooden stairs down to the water and also a significant section of hardened earth to walk across before reaching the water. All things to keep in mind on the return trip to the changing rooms when you are dripping wet.
I managed to scrape my knee on the hard, scratchy sea bed as I was shifting myself around. A thing I totally expected and had Neosporin and large bandaids for. It didn't heal well, despite my copious care, totally unexpected! The scrape gave me discomfort for the rest of the trip, especially when kneeling or banging it up against the bus seat.
After our swim, I showered up and sat down in the bar with everyone else waiting for Tim. I gave him some shekels to buy a soda and some Pringles chips.
We boarded the bus again and went to Tel Jericho. It was a quick stop to see the excavations and the monastery high on the mountains. I tend to be interested with how the sites are presented. It seemed to me that the walkway didn't have railings when I visited with Kenny in 2014. I pointed out to Tim that Jericho is an oasis, the bible calls it "the city of palm trees" (Deut 34:3). He could see that, a very distinctive cluster of green palms. Our tour guide told us houses there are incredibly expensive.
We had mass in the Church of the Good Shepherd in Jericho. It is a Franciscan church built by Antonio Barluzzi in 1924. All the Latin Catholic churches in the Holy Land are crisply clean. We were feeling mellow from the Dead Sea salts we'd absorbed. Our tour guide was busy during the brief service adjusting the air conditioning in the little church. He climbed up to reach an air vent above the entrance. I was startled to look back and see him up there. I jotted down keywords from the Scripture readings in an attempt to identify them but my scribbles aren't clear. "Isaiah out of Egypt I called my Son," "Psalm O Shepherd of Israel," and "Matthew cure the sick, raise the dead, Sodom and Gomorrah" (Matthew 10:5-15ff)
We visited next the Church of Lazarus in Bethany. Our guide referred to them, Mary, Martha and Lazarus, as "the dear ones" and "the dear friends of Jesus." I was at the same time touched by our guide's sentiment towards these biblical figures and also jealous of his statement of their intimacy with Jesus. Our guide exhibited no such jealousy. There was a mass in progress and we didn't stay long.
Then we went for lunch in Bethlehem. The goal of Franciscan pilgrimages in the Holy Land is to patronize Catholic places of business. Seating was outside and, given the elevation of Bethlehem1, it was pleasant enough to sit at tables under awnings. I was sandwiched between the two Franciscan priests with Tim seated across from me. This probably worked out well because they ate up all the meat that was served and I ate the vegetables. Fr. Jim was talking up the bananas we'd have for dessert.
"Bethlehem bananas," he recalled from a previous experience, "are small and sweet." With a recommendation like that, I had to have one. The skins are thicker than we're used to and I have an ideal "banana shape" that I find appealing. But these Bethlehem bananas were worth the extra work of opening them up and overcoming my esthetic tastes. Some chose not to have any, so I took an extra one.
While we were eating, sadly, a few from our group were going through luggage under the bus looking for a lost wallet. For all his warnings to the contrary, Remy still found himself going through suitcases. I pointed out to Tim as they opened the door to the cargo hold and began hauling out suitcases in the direct sun, "See, that's what that looks like. Not good." They didn't find the wallet and missed lunch for the most part. When Neva sat down at the end of our table, she demanded that all left over hummus and pita be sent her way. And we dutifully turned this over. She was that kind of gal. Hummus and pita seemed to be her staple the entire trip.
Pita bread varies from place to place, as pizza dough does in this country. Some of it was soft and chewy and some was like cardboard. The hummus was always good, everywhere. We heard the call to prayer loud and clear since we were eating outdoors and this was Bethlehem. Fr. George said he became very familiar with the sound while in Africa. I instructed Tim to listen closely as he's not likely to hear it so clearly again. It was a recording, most definitely. I don't know the language but they say it's the entire prayer, not simply a call to prayer, to facilitate its recitation.
Drinking water had been hard to come by in Jordan. The travel company gave us only one bottle a day and we couldn't buy any extra. The hotel offered two bottles per room at check in and the tap water was not potable. Tim and I were popping a daily Imodium tablet as a precaution, but that's no reason to ignore the concierge's advice. If Fr. Jim hadn't kindly given his hotel bottles to me, I might have been worse off. A couple of vitamin C pills relieved the sinus congestion I had, though my body needed to recover the lost fluids.
The other resource we pilgrims seemed low on was cash. Remy took us to the only ATM in Bethlehem that dispenses US dollars. A few people made use of it. Strangely, we stopped two other times at this ATM during our brief stay in Bethlehem for different pilgrims (or perhaps some of the same ones) to get money. Tim and I happened to be seated on the bus behind the woman who lost her wallet. She was blaming her traveling companion, her friend, for the loss. "No, I'm not blaming you but if you hadn't of distracted me when I was packing ..." This was the same person who had asked me not to sit near her because of my cold. I actually did pray that she'd find her wallet because it's a pretty awful thing to lose something so important, especially when traveling.
I liked our Bethlehem hotel room very much. There were three twin beds and a balcony. After the Dead Sea swim, my hair needed conditioner but this hotel was the only one without any samples. They compensated with tubes of Dead Sea skin products. I rinsed out our swim suits and water shoes so these would have a chance to dry before we checked out. The room key was needed for the lights and A/C to work and we received only one room key. Tim declined dinner again, so I left the key with him while I went down. He just had to agree to stay awake to let me in when I returned. It was Thursday night and things were quieting down on the Bethlehem streets for the weekly Muslim holy day. I stood on the balcony and listened to the call to prayer, then went down to dinner.
1 In a matter of hours, we'd traveled from Amman, at an elevation of 3,300 ft above sea level, to the Dead Sea, at 1,300 feet below sea level, to Bethlehem, at 2,500 ft above sea level. Our ears were feeling it!
The amenities at the Dead Sea have improved greatly since I was first there in 1999. Much is made of the elevation, as the bar there calls itself "the lowest bar in the world." Tim needed some convincing to wade in because, after all, "dead sea" doesn't sound very appealing. He enjoyed floating. It was shallow but not muddy or slippery as when I took Tim's older brother in February, 2014. I nearly lost my water shoes on that occasion.
Remy gave us an hour, an adequate amount of time. There are numerous wooden stairs down to the water and also a significant section of hardened earth to walk across before reaching the water. All things to keep in mind on the return trip to the changing rooms when you are dripping wet.
I managed to scrape my knee on the hard, scratchy sea bed as I was shifting myself around. A thing I totally expected and had Neosporin and large bandaids for. It didn't heal well, despite my copious care, totally unexpected! The scrape gave me discomfort for the rest of the trip, especially when kneeling or banging it up against the bus seat.
After our swim, I showered up and sat down in the bar with everyone else waiting for Tim. I gave him some shekels to buy a soda and some Pringles chips.
We boarded the bus again and went to Tel Jericho. It was a quick stop to see the excavations and the monastery high on the mountains. I tend to be interested with how the sites are presented. It seemed to me that the walkway didn't have railings when I visited with Kenny in 2014. I pointed out to Tim that Jericho is an oasis, the bible calls it "the city of palm trees" (Deut 34:3). He could see that, a very distinctive cluster of green palms. Our tour guide told us houses there are incredibly expensive.
We had mass in the Church of the Good Shepherd in Jericho. It is a Franciscan church built by Antonio Barluzzi in 1924. All the Latin Catholic churches in the Holy Land are crisply clean. We were feeling mellow from the Dead Sea salts we'd absorbed. Our tour guide was busy during the brief service adjusting the air conditioning in the little church. He climbed up to reach an air vent above the entrance. I was startled to look back and see him up there. I jotted down keywords from the Scripture readings in an attempt to identify them but my scribbles aren't clear. "Isaiah out of Egypt I called my Son," "Psalm O Shepherd of Israel," and "Matthew cure the sick, raise the dead, Sodom and Gomorrah" (Matthew 10:5-15ff)
We visited next the Church of Lazarus in Bethany. Our guide referred to them, Mary, Martha and Lazarus, as "the dear ones" and "the dear friends of Jesus." I was at the same time touched by our guide's sentiment towards these biblical figures and also jealous of his statement of their intimacy with Jesus. Our guide exhibited no such jealousy. There was a mass in progress and we didn't stay long.
Then we went for lunch in Bethlehem. The goal of Franciscan pilgrimages in the Holy Land is to patronize Catholic places of business. Seating was outside and, given the elevation of Bethlehem1, it was pleasant enough to sit at tables under awnings. I was sandwiched between the two Franciscan priests with Tim seated across from me. This probably worked out well because they ate up all the meat that was served and I ate the vegetables. Fr. Jim was talking up the bananas we'd have for dessert.
"Bethlehem bananas," he recalled from a previous experience, "are small and sweet." With a recommendation like that, I had to have one. The skins are thicker than we're used to and I have an ideal "banana shape" that I find appealing. But these Bethlehem bananas were worth the extra work of opening them up and overcoming my esthetic tastes. Some chose not to have any, so I took an extra one.
While we were eating, sadly, a few from our group were going through luggage under the bus looking for a lost wallet. For all his warnings to the contrary, Remy still found himself going through suitcases. I pointed out to Tim as they opened the door to the cargo hold and began hauling out suitcases in the direct sun, "See, that's what that looks like. Not good." They didn't find the wallet and missed lunch for the most part. When Neva sat down at the end of our table, she demanded that all left over hummus and pita be sent her way. And we dutifully turned this over. She was that kind of gal. Hummus and pita seemed to be her staple the entire trip.
Pita bread varies from place to place, as pizza dough does in this country. Some of it was soft and chewy and some was like cardboard. The hummus was always good, everywhere. We heard the call to prayer loud and clear since we were eating outdoors and this was Bethlehem. Fr. George said he became very familiar with the sound while in Africa. I instructed Tim to listen closely as he's not likely to hear it so clearly again. It was a recording, most definitely. I don't know the language but they say it's the entire prayer, not simply a call to prayer, to facilitate its recitation.
Drinking water had been hard to come by in Jordan. The travel company gave us only one bottle a day and we couldn't buy any extra. The hotel offered two bottles per room at check in and the tap water was not potable. Tim and I were popping a daily Imodium tablet as a precaution, but that's no reason to ignore the concierge's advice. If Fr. Jim hadn't kindly given his hotel bottles to me, I might have been worse off. A couple of vitamin C pills relieved the sinus congestion I had, though my body needed to recover the lost fluids.
The other resource we pilgrims seemed low on was cash. Remy took us to the only ATM in Bethlehem that dispenses US dollars. A few people made use of it. Strangely, we stopped two other times at this ATM during our brief stay in Bethlehem for different pilgrims (or perhaps some of the same ones) to get money. Tim and I happened to be seated on the bus behind the woman who lost her wallet. She was blaming her traveling companion, her friend, for the loss. "No, I'm not blaming you but if you hadn't of distracted me when I was packing ..." This was the same person who had asked me not to sit near her because of my cold. I actually did pray that she'd find her wallet because it's a pretty awful thing to lose something so important, especially when traveling.
I liked our Bethlehem hotel room very much. There were three twin beds and a balcony. After the Dead Sea swim, my hair needed conditioner but this hotel was the only one without any samples. They compensated with tubes of Dead Sea skin products. I rinsed out our swim suits and water shoes so these would have a chance to dry before we checked out. The room key was needed for the lights and A/C to work and we received only one room key. Tim declined dinner again, so I left the key with him while I went down. He just had to agree to stay awake to let me in when I returned. It was Thursday night and things were quieting down on the Bethlehem streets for the weekly Muslim holy day. I stood on the balcony and listened to the call to prayer, then went down to dinner.
1 In a matter of hours, we'd traveled from Amman, at an elevation of 3,300 ft above sea level, to the Dead Sea, at 1,300 feet below sea level, to Bethlehem, at 2,500 ft above sea level. Our ears were feeling it!
