Here’s some new photos from Egypt, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Israel and Jordan:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fabiolacaraza/sets/72157604192059930/
Are You Happy Now Sharon Riel?
March 22, 2008 at 3:05 am (Egypt, Ethiopia, Israel, Jordan, Photos, Tanzania)
Three Countries, Three Arguments
March 21, 2008 at 1:41 pm (Egypt, Israel, Jordan)
Wadi Musa to Cairo via Eilat and Taba – March 7
Up early again and out the door by 7am. We took a mini-bus to Aqaba and then a cab to the Israeli border. Fab argued with the driver who said the crossing was 20km away. Fab said it was 8km. It ended up being 12km. On the way to the border, the cab driver told us that there had been trouble in Jerusalem. According to him, a Palestinian man had opened fire in a Jewish seminary, killing eight and wounding another thirty eight. We had missed the event by one day.
We crossed the Jordanian border, a process that involved Fab getting sexually harassed by a customs agent who made her take off her shawl and lift up her shirt to show her stomach. When I tried to intervene, I was told to take my bag back to the car and get inside. Asshole.
We got into Israel without any problems. After clearing customs, we grabbed a ride into Eilat in a taxi and got dropped off at the bus station. The meter read 19 sheckels, but the driver demanded we pay him twenty nine – three for the pickup and seven for our bags. I called him dishonest and accused him of cheating us. He denied it and called us greedy. Sometimes traveling just isn’t worth the hassle.
From there, we grabbed a local bus to the Egyptian border, paid the exhorbent Israeli exit fee and entered Egypt. We walked from the border crossing to the Taba bus station in order to catch the 12:30 bus back to Cairo. We were told that the 12:30 bus was “broken” and that the next bus was at 4:30. There were mini-buses leaving earlier, but they cost more and are usually much more hassle. We decided to wait.
After an hour of sitting on the curb in the desert heat, a local man approached us and asked if we wanted to share a mini-bus with him for the same price as the bus. I initially said no, knowing that the mini-bus would end up being a headache, but he sweetened the deal saying that we would leave immediately and that there would be no stops. Since Fab and I didn’t feel like waiting for another three hours, we agreed.
The mini-bus stopped everywhere picking up people and packages. Eventually, the bus stopped and we were told that we had to switch to another mini-bus. Fab lost her patience and screamed at the driver, her Spanish accent getting stronger with every passing word. Arab men do not like being yelled at by women, a fact confirmed by the veins popping out of the driver’s neck. He refused to respond to Fabiola and instead deferred to me. I just shrugged my shoulders and pointed to Fabiola. Sorry, man. You deal with it. To make things worse, the driver told us that we were not going to be dropped off in central Cairo, like we were told, but instead at a subway stop on the outskirts of the city. Fabiola’s yelling was now accompanied by wild arm gestures. When the mini-bus finally got back on the road, I gave her a high five. She had made me proud.
We got into Cairo late after spending close to an hour on the subway. If we had waited for the bus, we probably would have arrived at the same time. Oh well, at least we were back in a familiar environment.
Long Day Through the Desert
March 21, 2008 at 1:07 pm (Israel, Jordan)
Jerusalem to Wadi Musa – March 5
We got on a bus bound for Eilat at seven in the morning. For some reason, I couldn’t sleep on the way there, which was okay because it meant that I got to see the Dead Sea during the day along with the surrounding desert landscape. We got off the bus in Eilat, had a couple of hot dogs, and then grabbed a cab to the Jordanian border. Once there, we walked across and haggled for a cab ride into nearby Aqaba, where we could catch a mini-bus north to Wadi Musa, the town surrounding Petra.
We waited in the hot sun for two hours for the mini-bus to depart. Local Bedouin men, their heads covered in checkered red scarves, filed in and out of the back of the van with goods they needed transported. Other Bedouins piled into other mini-buses headed south to the protected desert area of Wadi Rum, familiar to the West as the location for the film ”Lawrence of Arabia”. By the time the bus pulled out of the station, Fab and I were cranky and getting on each other’s nerves. Luckily, the ride was short.
We took a look at a few hotels before deciding on one that overlooked the valley leading out to Petra. We watched the sunset, a brilliant mix of crimson and orange, behind the bulbous mountains out on the horizon. Fab and I chatted for the rest of night with a man from Peru, Pedro, and his Australian wife, Jan. By the time we went to bed, our heads were filled with Pedro’s crazy travel stories, we had a place to stay in Lima and a notebook full of potential costs in the country.
More Jesus, Less Money
March 21, 2008 at 12:52 pm (Israel)
Jerusalem – March 4
Up early again. We arrive too late at the Temple Mount the day before, so we returned early in morning to ensure we got inside. We cleared security, a common place practice in the Middle East, and walked up to the platform of the Temple Mount, constructed by Herod during his reign. We walked around the peaceful grounds for an hour, snapping photos of the photogenic golden Dome of the Rock and enjoying the silence. When it was time for Call to Prayer, the aural accompaniment to the entire region, we left and went for some bagels and lox.
We exited the Old City out of Lion’s Gate and walked towards the Mount of Olives. Fab and I climbed up the steep hill to a view point overlooking the Old City, directly across from the summit. We sat around for an hour or so, enjoying the view, tranquility and warm sun. Later, we walked back down the hill to the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus took on the sins of the world, was arrested and later ascended to heaven. Unfortunately, a highway runs directly by the entrance to the church built in the garden, taking away what should have been a peaceful atmosphere. We made another quick stop at the Tomb of Mary, a spot which must have been decided upon with a whole lot of guess work since, according to my Catholic upbringing, nobody knew where that spot was exactly.
To finish off the day, we went fruit and sweets shopping in the Muslim quarter near Damascus gate and then ventured back to the New City to search for a reasonably priced restaurant. We found one in a hip little piazza, dined street side and talked about our escape plan to Jordan the following morning. We needed to get out of the country, it was rapidly draining our bank account. From what it looked like, we were going to have to be up before dawn again. I got tired just thinking about it.
Walking the Old City
March 21, 2008 at 12:30 pm (Israel)
Jerusalem – March 3
We got up very early. We only had two days in the city and we wanted to take in as much as we could. Neither Fabiola or I are particularly religious people, but we are both well versed in Catholicism so we had some knowledge of the city and it’s significance. It took a while to get out of the hotel because the shower had backed up and covered the tile floor in our room in water. Fab’s shoes got soaked and we got the night for free. Not a bad deal, all things considered, because the room was overpriced and Israel on a whole looked to be expensive.
Fab and I wandered through the Christian and Armenian quarters in the Old City before making our way to the Western Wall. Out of all the cities we had visited on the trip, Jerusalem had to be one of the most beautiful. Very clean, well restored and steeped in history. However, the armed guards around every corner gave the city an edge I hadn’t seen since I visited Belfast ten years before.
Down at the Western Wall, we cleared security and walked down the steps leading to the base of the Temple Mount. The Wall is also referred to as the “Wailing Wall” in reference to the sorrow the Jewish people have felt since the destruction of the Second Temple, the holiest site in Judeaism, home to the foundation stone, and purportedly the place where Abraham contemplated sacrificing his son. Now, the foundation stone sits inside the Dome of the Rock, an important Muslim site (Abraham is revered in both religions). Jews from all over the world prayed and stuck pieces of paper into the cracks of the wall. Men stood on the right, the women on the left partitioned by a metal guard rail. Video cameras captured people completing their pilgrimages, for some a life long journey. As I found out later, the Western Wall is considered holy because it is the closest point to the foundation stone on the outer wall of the Temple Mount.
From there we went out Zion Gate in the Armenian quarter to Mt. Zion, home to King David’s Tomb as well as the Coenaculum, the traditional site of the Last Supper. I got hustled into buying a paper yamika at the entrance to King David’s Tomb and we got lost trying to find the Coenaculum. We decided to follow a Christian tour group from Nigeria and soon found the spot, an empty room with white washed walls and stained glass windows. Around the corner from the Coenaculum, we visited Church and Monastery of Dormition, where Jesus’ mother Mary allegedly fell into ‘eternal sleep’.
We walked back to the Western Wall in the early afternoon to take in a tour of the Western Wall tunnels. Not surprisingly, the tour was pro-Jewish and anti-Islam, which may have gone unnoticed by the rest of the group since most of them were Jews on a pilgrimage. There was also an absurd robotic diorama complete with sound effects that showed the history of the Temple Mount and the development of the Western Wall. When the tour was finished, we exited the tunnels, ironically located in the Muslim quarter, and were told by the tour guide, “I cannot guarantee your safety in this area. We have armed guards that will lead us back to the Western Wall. Again, if you decide to stop for any reason, you will be taking your safety into your own hands.” Sure enough, there were three armed guards outside with their pistols drawn. Fab and I just shrugged it off, left the group and chatted with the Muslim merchants.
The primary reason for leaving the group was that the start of Via Dolorosa, the path of the Stations of the Cross, was located nearby. Fab and I bought a map outlining the the stations from a vendor and then followed the tour groups through the warren of alleys and side streets, stopping to take photos at each of the spots. Via Dolorosa ends at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where the Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Ethiopian, and Coptic churches believe Jesus was crucified, buried and resurrected. The Protestants have another site they flock to, the Garden Tomb in East Jerusalem, where they believe Jesus was crucified.
The Church is a mishmash of architectural styles, somewhat fitting since it may be the only church in the world where Christians from different denominations congregate together. Inside, we saw Catholics from southern India, the Philippines, Europe and Latin America, Christians of some unknown denominatation from Nigeria, Ghana and the Congo, Orthodox Ethiopians and Eastern Europeans along with Coptics from Egypt. The Latin Americans wept, the Europeans prayed silently, the Africans fervently and rest walked around looking stunned and overcome with emotion. Fab tried to get into the small chamber where Jesus is said to have be resurrected, but the lineup to get inside was out of control. It was the type of thing you see outside of concerts or red carpet premieres.
Fab and I pushed our way out of the church and went off in search of a seat and some food. We had walked almost non-stop all day and had only sat down for a brief lunch. We had a quick bite to eat at a burger joint in the New City and then returned to our hotel to drink a couple of beers on our balcony overlooking the Christian quarter.
Into Israel
March 20, 2008 at 1:25 am (Egypt, Israel)
Dahab to Jerusalem – March 2
We hopped in the back of a pick up truck out to the bus station in the early morning. From there, we took a bus up the Sinai coast to Taba, the Egyptian border crossing with Israel. We walked from the Taba bus station to the border and then walked across. Suddenly, we were in a different world – hair, skin, cleavage! It was like being in Mediterranean Europe. Fab took advantage of the situation and exposed her shoulders.
We bought a couple of tickets to Jerusalem at the Eilat bus station and within an hour we were on the road again. We drove through the day into the night past the Dead Sea, listening to Connie Francis on the radio. We pulled into Jerusalem around 9pm. Hasidic Jews ran across the street, their curls flowing in the wind, to avoid traffic. Men wearing yamikas loitered outside the bus station and teenage girls with nose rings waited for the bus. We were in Jerusalem, the city I heard about so much during my Catholic upbringing and still hear about continuously in the international news. It was kind of hard to believe I was actually there.
After some initial confusion, we got on a city bus that took us down to the Old City where our hostel was located. We got off near the New Gate and walked south along the outer wall to Jaffa Gate. Armed security guards asked where we were headed on the way into the Old City and stopped every vehicle within sight. Clearly we were in a different type of city, one blessed with rich history and plagued with chronic problems. What else can you expect from a city that contains some of the most important religious sites for three of the worlds most popular religions?
