Shalom, Welcome to the Check Point.

June 1st – Mazel tov!

After a stopover in Riga, Latvia, I arrive at 4am in Tel-Aviv, which means “spring-time hill.”  (don’t fly Air Baltic)
There are many Jews around.
The currency is the New Israel Shekel: $2.6 NIS = $1 USD
I hop on the train into downtown Tel-Aviv, and the signs are bi-lingual in Hebrew and English.  Sometimes they are tri-lingual with Arabic and/or Russian.

Both men and women must join the military so there is a good amount of both in uniform here.  The newspapers today are highlighting the flotilla confrontation at sea.

There is heavy security and a uniformed guard checks your bag at the entrance of every major public place, such as the train station or post office.

I get off the train at Tel-Aviv Hagana.  So far, this place is dirty.  There is black gum marks all over the oil-stained sidewalks.  I cannot tell if a building is run down, old, or blown up.  Is all the money going to the military, because the city is in terrible shape.
So far, the only country I have visited that has been worse is India.

Its 7:30 AM and the Florintine Hostel opens at 9am.  So I hang out for a while.

Finally, I check in, Rafi is the manager and the place is on the 4th floor.  Guests are sleeping on a huge roof top balcony area.  It is a real dive but cheap with nice people.
It is located in the Florintine area, which is pretty hippy.  The other guests are cool and from all over and we talk about the flotilla incident and site seeing.  I book a hostel in Jerusalem for tomorrow.  Rafi is very helpful and I get a map to go site seeing.

The local area is torn up but it gets better and does have some bright spots.
Everything is so Jewish, like Jewish Disneyland.

I walk around downtown past lots of high-rise construction.  It is busy and 92 degrees as I travel up Rothschild Blvd. (interesting when you consider the history of the USA Federal Reserve)

After an awesome Mediterranean lunch, I walk down the merchant-filled Dizengoff St.  Russians are sprinkled here and there and so are countless blue and white Israeli flags.

An Israeli woman was quoted in the paper saying, “If you want to be a happy Israeli, don’t read the paper, or watch the news, all they do is remind you that war may break out tomorrow”.

Walk down several long brick promenades with lots of outdoor vendors selling trinkets.  Security checks everyone entering.

Tired from lack of sleep, I purchase some groceries and crash back at the hostel for 5 hours.

That night, I learned about the Israelis and the culture.  They have citywide sirens for warning alarms and drills.  While hanging out with guests until 2am, I learn that why Jewish people do what they do depends on how much they follow their faith.

Condensation forms at night being so close to the ocean, so many things are wet and there are mosquitoes.

Wednesday June 2nd – Travelling back in time

After checking out and heading to the central bus station, I meet a fellow traveler who tells me that the worst part of Israel is better than the best he has seen in Africa.  Yikes.

Next is the modern post office along the way (with more security) before the bus station.
The Central Bus Station is like a combination mall, parking structure, and giant bus station.
Its 7 stories, one of the largest in the world.  It is only 34 shekels round trip to Jerusalem.  Cheap.
Male and female soldiers are everywhere and a couple of them are carrying some serious assault rifles.  They screen everyone entering the building.

So far, I am feeling the stereotype about Jews emphasizing and caring too much about money is unfounded.  Israel seems like a poor but happy country with good generous people.  What if your country was only 60 years old and had few natural resources?  The main reason the Palestinians do not have a country is because of money.  I get the feeling that Israel has to watch every shekel if it is going to survive.

The A/C bus is full.  Further east of Tel-Aviv are more residential neighborhoods, farms and further there are pine trees, arid forests and old rolling hills.  I feel like I am traveling back in time.

The bus station in Jerusalem is like another mall.  I decide to walk the 3km downhill to the hostel.

The Arab-run New Palm Hostel is just outside the Damascus gate to the Old City and behind a produce market.

No time for the Dead Sea, so I head into the Old City.  Again, there is heavy security with rifles and inside there are narrow stone pathways lined with small shops selling a wide variety of goods.

I try to enter the Temple Mount and the strict guard says it is closed.  As I watch people enter past him, I discover that it’s “Muslims only’ and non-Muslims are only allowed twice a day at certain times.  This is so lame, especially because the Israelis control the area.

So I walk to the Western (Wailing) Wall.

The Wailing Wall is about 80ft high and only about 100 yards wide.  They ask that you cover your head so I put on a complementary Yamaka.
Hundreds of people are spread out here.

The wall is divided into male and female areas for prayer.  I decide to place a prayer into the wall.  It is blank.  The best prayer I could ever imagine.

The wall is actually a outer retaining wall of the temples first built by Solomon 3000 years ago and rebuilt (Babylon and Rome destroyed it) over the Foundation Stone of the world, where Adam came into being and the Ark of the Covenant was placed.  I realize that people have not been killed because of this stone, but because of an idea.

The stone paths and steps are slick from so many visitors.

Next, I head out the Zion Gate to the Room of the Last Supper.

In the Mt. Zion area, the last supper room has cats, stained glass and 4 columns.
Am I really in the room where the last supper occurred?  Wow.

There is a feel to the room however superficially it is not much.  Next is King David’s tomb.
In a small room, the tomb is against a wall a draped with a crimson cloth.  It is a holy site so I put on my Yamaka again.  It is a place of prayer and men and women are segregated.

Back into the Old City through the Jaffa gate and into the Catholic section.  There is no security this time.  Inside the beautiful Church of the Holy Scepter (Resurrection), there are monks and nuns walking around, many large candles, sculptures of Jesus, old oil paintings, and high ceilings with huge columns and marble floors.

The sound of visitors chanting (Gregorian?) rises in the background.

I learn that this is the place where it is thought that Jesus was crucified and buried.

I head out the New Gate and back to hostel, where I chat with guests about traveling to the Dead Sea, world politics and the hostel cat.

Thursday June 3rd – Love that Mud

I am up early to walk to bus stop, where I catch the #50 to the bus station.  After figuring out which bus stop goes by Metzokoe Drageot by the Dead Sea, I notice today the numerous soldiers carrying automatic weapons this morning.  I am just not used to seeing someone enjoy a causal breakfast at the cafe with an M-16.

On the bus through the rolling desert hills past endless road construction.  After passing more soldiers with even bigger guns, date farms, camels, and deer, we arrive at a checkpoint.  There is a sign showing how far below sea level you are.

I jump off at Mineral Beach Sea Area.  I give a Russian woman 45 shekels, and there are only 10 people here and an old lifeguard.

I do not want the salt to ruin my suit, so I jump in with my boxers.  I wanted to go naked, but it did not feel appropriate, even though there are no signs.

I taste that water and it is ridiculously salty.  As if, it was liquid salt.  You just float on your back because you are so buoyant that if you try to swim on your stomach, your legs want to float and your face wants to go in the water.  The salt would burn your eyes.

It is hazy today but not that hot.  Because of the low elevation (lowest spot on Earth), there is more atmosphere between you and the sun, so it is not as intense.

The Dead Sea mud is simply amazing.  I rub it all over and cover my whole body.

There are really hard Salt rocks lying around.  I get a common photo of me reading the paper as I float.  As more people arrive, I meet a guy named Joe from Los Angeles and discover the lifeguard is a former US marine.

While relaxing, 3 fighter jets roar across the sky as if reminding us where we are.

After washing the mud off, my skin is like butter.  I do not see any signs saying do not take mud, so I sneak about a pint for my dad.
The high cliff walls nearby are imposing, and I think about Jesus and life here 2000 years ago.
I walk out to the road with Joe to catch the #444 bus.  He is a slow walker and we miss bus, so we decide to hitchhike.  We reach the deserted bus station, on the side of the highway in the middle of the desert in the West Bank.

Eventually, we get picked up by a German guy and we listen to The Beatles as we pass the Qumran where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered.  I notice giant long steel and concrete walls nearby and learn that on the other side are the Palestinian settlements. Glad I’m on the right side of that wall. Palestine? Not for me. Our driver points out a couple of green Palestinian license plates.

He drops us off on the outside of Jerusalem and who knows where we are.

We ask the people at Domino’s Pizza and they show us the bus station, where luckily the bus driver says he’s going to the CBS.

Along the way I spot Jaffa Rd near my hostel and hop off. I drop off the Dead Sea mud and race to the Arab bus station to get to Bethlehem.
It’s 4:30 now and I catch the #21.

We drive down the freeway past another section of the giant wall dividing the Israelis and Palestinians.

Pretty soon the flags are changing and I’m noticing a lot of green license plates. I ask the lady next to me, “are we on the Palestine side?”

“Yes, were going to Beit Jala.”

Uh-ho.

Ok, I get off the bus and ask a guy and he confirms were in Bethlehem. I didn’t know it was located in Palestinian territory. At first, I’m like “yikes”.

I only have an hour and a half to get to and visit the Nativity Church, where Jesus was born. Luckily it’s uphill within walking distance through a narrow street lined with merchants.

I come to an open square and read a sign about the Israeli occupation and history of the Palestinians.

I arrive at the Nativity Church and it’s amazing. There are large columns indoors, candles and old oil paintings. So this is where Jesus was born. I am grateful to be here.

With a sense of urgency, I walk downhill back to the bus station and talk with two Germans, who live here.

The bus driver tells us that getting through the Israeli check point should be ok (thank god). The guards don’t have to let me in, even though I’m American.

At the fortified Israeli check point, all non-Israelis have to get off the bus and stand in line. Last to get on, they check my papers and ask me questions, and I’m free to go. Whew.

I’ve realized in my life that there are a lot of lines, walls, and fences in this world (borders, check points, airport security, etc), and where ever you are, you’d better be on the right side.

Safely back at the hostel for a great dinner and chatting with guests.

Friday June 4th – I’m not Muslim

On my way out of the hostel, the guy at the front desk tells me the Dome of the Rock is closed because it’s Friday. What?

So I go anyways, at least I get to walk through the Old City again.

Security is extra heavy today as I walk down the narrow streets. There’s at least 70 police, soldiers, and special forces all heavily armed.

None of the shops are open yet which is nice.

At the Wailing Wall, I learn the Dome of the Rock (Temple Mount) is closed on Fridays and Saturdays.
I have no idea why, but “it is as it is.”
(I later learn that Muslims pray 5 times a day and outsiders are distracting)

Wanting to get a photo of the Dome, I navigate the back streets looking for the highest point I can find. Luckily, I find a balcony with a great view overlooking the Wailing Wall and Dome. It’s a great picture spot.

Unluckily, my camera battery is dead. C’est la vie. So I just enjoy the view.

The wall is full of people today with lots of tables and chairs.

The Dome is ok. It has a golden top and colorful stone work around the bottom, all of which covers the Foundation Stone.
I’m sure the mosque looks better at different times and closer up.

After taking the photo, I realize that I’m behind a security screening area. I unintentionally bypassed it. Haha. Let’s see what they say when I show up behind them.
The guards tell me “not all areas are secure.”
Then what’s the point?

I leave the Old City and check out of the hostel, walking to the CBS for the full bus back to Tel-Aviv.

I’d recommend going to Jerusalem in about 3 years, after things hopefully cool down more and the construction, road work, and light rail are finished.

I’m really glad I didn’t fire that AK-47 in Moscow after visiting Israel.

Back in Tel-Aviv, I rush to the post office to mail a package, they close at noon and reopen Sunday.

While talking with Rafi at the Florintine Hostel, he tells me about the Muslims and Jews in Jerusalem throwing rocks at each other every Friday for 20 years after prayers.

I walk around downtown and through the shoulder-to-shoulder market, arriving along the beach-front road to watch the sunbathers.

Later at the hostel, Rafi asks if I want to be the manager for $2,000 per month.
I talk with Jeff about Israel’s history. After working out and doing laundry, fireworks go off in the distance.

Saturday June 5th – Shabbat

Today I walk to the beach early in the morning and discover thousands of yellow chairs and blue Nestea umbrellas. The beach is already packed at 9am.

I wonder what the Muslims think about all this skin and alcohol.

The Mediterranean’s a little cold, maybe that’s why that giant volleyball-sized jellyfish is the color blue. (some kids throw sand at it like Lord of the Flies)

After getting some sun, I walk back to the hostel and join some guests for some basketball at the nearby park.
There’s a bomb shelter there. I ask the other guests about Egypt. Prepare to be scammed they tell me.

It’s Sabbat and almost everything’s closed.
As the sun goes down, places start opening and live band music is heard in the distance.

Tomorrow morning I have to wake up at 3am and walk an hour to the only train station going to the airport for my 7am flight to Cairo, Egypt.

Hope I make it!