Wow! Let’s call that one a busy week. On Thursday, we were finally able to make it to Masada which not only met, but exceeded my expectations. I felt I was back in grade 10 history, and only wished that everyone in my class could have been there. The views were so spectacular, heights so dizzying, and 1300 foot drops so incredible, that it made one a little nervous for the boys. More than a few times as we walked down stairs on the edge of a precipice, I prayed that we would all be kept safe. After the 700 step, 1200 vertical foot, 2 mile hike down the snake path, the fresh squeezed orange juice at the bottom was worth a million shekels.
I suppose I should back up a bit and tell you about the trip to Masada. Thinking that I would take a new way across the West Bank instead of our typical trek across route 5 and 505, we turned south on route 60 towards Jerusalem. My plan was to take Melita through Samaria and then the hills of Judea. The road I planned to take was under the control of the IDF and marked "safe" for travel. As this was the first time I took this road, I missed the turn-off I hoped to take. A quick check of my map showed that I could keep going south into Jerusalem and get back on track without any problems. Without any problems? We passed a typical IDF checkpoint and were waved through (as we always are – I guess we look like tourists) and suddenly the main road disappeared. I mean … nothing. There was a round-a-bout, and then I was directly up against the infamous "concrete wall". Right? Left? I had no idea. It didn’t take more than 5 minutes to discover that there was not an Israeli license plate to be seen. I think I did about 5 u-turns before I realized that we were completely off the beaten path and nowhere near anywhere that looked familiar. Perhaps the grafitti on the wall, "This wall will fall", "Wall = Apartheid" and "I am not a terrorist" gave some clue as to where we were. I was more than a little nervous.
Several prayers and a lot of turns later, I see a checkpoint that is only accessible from the opposite direction. Doesn’t matter. I do the illegal u-turn and pull into the queue (where we’re harassed by a young Arab boy who has the woeful face down perfectly). Something about the Humvees, heavily fortified towers and machine guns tell me that this checkpoint is different than any other that I’ve been in. Even the press vehicles and video cameras that were running were clues as to our predicament. Security was TIGHT. After a very lengthy wait and arriving at the checkpoint, I was asked for the first time for my passport (which I haven’t been carrying on me). Instead, I explained that we’ve never been asked for this and gave them my driver’s license. They asked me to step out of the vehicle and open the trunk. After much conferring and calling of two superior officers, they told me that "I was a) to carry my passport with me any time I was in Palestinian controlled areas and b) I should NOT BE IN Palestinian Authority controlled locations. It was extrememly dangerous." Palestinian controlled areas? Yes. Somehow we had ended up in one of the two more dangerous places in Israel – Ramallah.
When I told the people at work (all ex-intelligence and military folks) about my experience, they just shook their heads. Ramallah? Was I crazy? Did I have any idea what I was doing? Hmmm … bottom line … perhaps I should stick with the roads I know.
Regardless, I was thankful for the experience though a little "interesting" at the time. Our car was guarded by five guardian angels. In the end, the less than two hour trip to Masada ended up taking more than 3 hours.
Friday brought us back into Jerusalem for Melita’s last visit. In the morning we were able to visit the Garden of Gethsemane where we spent some time just enjoying the garden and quiet time. I was disappointed that we were not actually allowed "in" the garden, but I suppose they were worried that tourists would damage the olive trees which are extremely old. Heidi heard one guide tell his group that the trees were anywhere from 400 to 2000 years old, while another guide told his group matter-of-factly that the trees were 2000 years old and the same ones as when our Lord was here. I’m not sure that anyone knows the exact age, but I would be surprised if the Roman war machine that came through in 70 A.D. left many trees in the area. I expect that the requirements of war would mean an almost complete destruction of any trees near the city in the interest of ramps and attack towers. Doesn’t matter. It was a poignant moment to simply sit here and consider the events from 2000 years ago. Perhaps these were shoots from the olive trees of so long ago.
From the Garden, to the Garden Tomb where we were able to have an hour of quiet with almost no other people. I think this was the highlight of the day.
The afternoon brought us back into the city where we walked down to Mt Zion and visited the Upper Room or what is supposed to be the location of the last supper. After doing a lot of reading since then, I’m not entirely convinced that the location is even close, but it was interesting none-the-less. We were hoping to walk the walls (ramparts) of the city, but it was closed on Friday so it was some last minute shopping in the souks for Melita. While wandering the old city, it was fun being caught in the Friday rush (holy day for the Arabs) to the El-Aksa mosque.
Think Thursday in Ramallah was scary? It didn’t come close to Friday afternoon. Coming back to the car parked near the Damascus Gate, we all stopped to put our things in the car. As usual Jake was walking along in front of us. He’s usually really excited when he sees the "green car" – "green car". This time, in the 60 second bustle of loading things into the car, Jake was gone. All of a sudden, Heidi says to me, "Where’s Jake?" I thought he was on the other side of the car. He wasn’t. Talk about panic. A quick check in all directions revealed that he was nowhere to be seen. And I mean nowhere. Have I mentioned the number of people coming and going at the Damascus gate? Even the person running the parking lot and moving a vehicle for us looked really scared.
An Arab women on the other side of the lot was pointing west and saying, "’Man’ went that way." The parking attendant took off running and I followed him. I don’t know what you think when you hear the word "man", but the worst possible scenarios were racing through my mind. Running about 50 meters in Ben Johnson time, we raced over the crest of a small hill. Half a parking lot away and continuing on his way happily is the smallest little boy …
Truly, our Lord is good!
Friday evening brought us back to Joppa for sunset and then back once more to Herzliyya. Saturday? Relaxing. 🙂