Something about the sea

Akko Old City 30 November 2010

Spent the most delightful day today wandering around Akko (Acre). Right on the coast has meant the smell of the sea has been today's constant companion, slipping away to be replaced by the smell of mustiness (like under Mum's house J) when we descended the Templars Tunnel's to explore the hidden side of the crusader city – the reused the C2nd BCE sewer tunnels and added to them during the crusader years to give further security in case of capture. The high caluted celings of the halls and hamaan were evident even in the tunnels.

Visited the mosque where there is a hair of Mohammed's beard thus making it the third most sacred mosque in Israel. From this you will gather that Akko is an unusual city for the middle east – it has synagogue, mosque and church in almost equal numbers. We moved between places of worship, hearing the stories – sadly the churches were all closed with no old man to welcome us with cold water and to tell our story. This is a place that has been around since Egyptian times and even St Paul dropped in here on one of his journeys. However it's like the crusader scars are hard to forget – the sense of having been the invading ones seems to stick harder to the followers of Jesus than to the followers of Islam – though perhaps because it feels to me more at odds with the teachings. In a land where the violence simmers just below the surface and the guns form a constant reminder of the otherness of people, being by the sea has made it all feel a long way away.

The most troublesome thing that happened to us was sharing the day with bus loads of school kids who dashed through the exhibits yelling wildly and taking pictures and talking into their mobile phones in equal measure. That and having people want me to give them my passport so I can have the headset with the guided tour of the city on - they have got to be joking, by late this afternoon (when there was nothing left to visit) I finally thought of the perfect response to this - "sure if you give me your passport in exchange". There is no way while ever I'm here that I'm not having my passport on my person - I won't to always be sure I can get out fast if needed.

Security issues aside though, we wound up the day with a visit to a fantastic charity who are working with young adults with disabiltiies teaching them about hospitality and retail and how to live away from home. Here at 18 everyone gets called up to join the armed services but if you have a disability you are just left at home. This organisation provides a place for people to come away from home - to learn independant living skills - and the shop was full of lovely things too.

After all this, we stood on top of the land wall and watched the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea and now the call to prayer weaves its way around my resting feet. We are staying in a unique hotel in the city wall which has been pure delight too. All this while conscious of the ripples of work decisions that wash their way across oceans forming waves on the otherwise calm evening tide.

Travelling and pilgrimage

Akko Old Town 29 November 2010

Many have pondered this difference before me but as we trundled up the Nablus Rd trailing our suitcases this morning I become aware of the difference between travelling and being a pilgrim. When I'm travelling, in particular as a tourist, I'm hyper alert, afraid of missing out on "the shot" or whatever must see sights the books or my research or memory dictates. I feel anxious, not wanting to miss a moment – and because I'm human that gives way to frustration with myself – for it is not humanly possible have every recommended experience. Nor would it be good for one either- however the desire for having it all remains, the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

The day in the desert so beloved by most of the group was in many ways about having all the experiences possible – a way to feel alive, we were storing up riches not of the monetary kind but of the experiential kind. I wonder if we'd had more time if we'd have found time to store up the reflective kind too.

Anyway it seems to me, at this starting out point of the pilgrimage (well the practice few days really as we don't start the course til evening of 1^st December), that being a pilgrim is about bringing a sense of looking with the heart or the soul – I'm not good at this, in tourist mode I got yelled at by a man as we came into Akko because he offered help and we walked past – I didn't want to be hassled but he was genuinely offering help and I'd offended him. In my own defense I have to say being a country where the 19 year olds are all dressed in military uniforms and carry a machine gun with their backpacks hasn't helped me feel like I could ask for help at all. I sense that being a pilgrim isn't about going to particular places rather it's about a particular way of going. I'm going off into Akko to try and go well now.

Your city

28 November 2010

I am in your city tonight God
Or at least other claim it as such
Noisy it is – and no doubt was
When your footsteps were falling
here amidst the footsteps
of so many others

Young boys carrying boxes of fruit six boxes high
old men changing money, chatting in doorways
And veiled women browsing and provisioning in equal measure
Day to day life in a holy place
Seems so much like other places
Traders guiding their carts down the steep slopes
Braking on a tyre
Calls to prayer echoing up the laneways
Like incense swirling around the shoppers
Work food prayer trade and greetings
your city

Drawing aside are pilgrims
Smiling here and welcoming
Us to their house
Nestled comfy up against
Damascus Gate
In the midst of this city the home of a friend
Seems so much more needful
Mary and Martha a little way from the city
Where the trajectory of life
Can be reshaped slightly
By the light of your city
Lightly

Souvenirs and movie stars

Aqaba 27 November 2010

Riding camels into the sunrise is exotic and exciting however it leaves one totally fatigued – especially if you didn't manage to sleep the night before either. So following yesterday's catch up on some very much needed sleep today dawned sparkling across the Red Sea with our view into Israel.

Needing to collect laundry and in the elusive search for a decent cup of coffee we headed out reasonably early to also hunt down some souvenirs as we'd been advised that everything was cheaper in Aqaba because it's tax free. We'd missed the shopping venture the night before as I was just too tired to contemplate bargaining.

We'd barely got two hundred metres up the road when we came across Mr Rafek. He owns a small dusty souvenir shop and greeted us in happy English asking where we were from and telling us that he knew all about Tasmania – having missed the instructions about shopping last night we had no idea of what prices to expect but this all sank into the background. We entered the tiny shop and Mr Rafek showed us his stock and kept telling us he wouldn't pester us like the Egyptians! Good to his word he then decided we must have been friendly enough for he proudly showed us his photographs on the back wall – he had starred in Lawrence of Arabia and Dr Zhivago and had the old black and white photos with O'Toole and Omar Sharif to prove it. Then we were treated to the scrapbook of his visits to film festivals around the world and other production experiences. We finished buying some mirrors and bookmarks and being given bracelets and mint tea. Thus emboldened we each had our photos taken amidst instructions about not looking directly at the camera! What a priceless morning. A genu9inely delightful encounter with a real character – we've been so blessed by the people we've met here. They are genuinely hospitable and friendly – pleased to show off their country and their hospitality is second nature – we could learn a lot!

On a more prosaic note we also managed to retrieve our laundry prior to departure after Allison's excellent haggling over time

Borders blah and the golden city

After finishing our fantastic tour with a dinner last night in the same cafe Allison and I stumbled upon on our first day in Amman, today has been a day of much contrast.

A typically hairraising taxi ride to the border crossing took but an hour - but here was where the "fun" started. Imagine at one of the craziest border crossings in the world having no signs anywhere saying where to go - so dragging suitcases we attempted to get into the VIP area - to no avail and were sent back to the tourist office - hidden around the back of a bus.

Flirting with the Jordanian passport controller failed to get a waiver of the 8dinar exit tax but undeterred we boarded the JETT bus - all going according to Lonely Planet at this stage. The border crossing is 2km wide across dirty rocky little valley that has the Jordan River trickling at the bottom of it. We wooshed across stopping several times to have our passports checked - over the rivulet onto the Israeli side - bigger machine guns here!

When we got to the final boom gate we stopped, the bus trip had been realively silent until this point - the silence rose and fell and eventually the chatting started, then fell then people starting trying to ask the driver what was going on. An elderly english lady who looked like something out of Death on the Nile asked couldn't she just walk through. After about an hour a man went to ask what was happening at the border but the guy sitting behind us just shugged "this is normal". So we sat and private cars and tour buses went past us, the other local buses queued up behind us, waiting waiting.

Israeli security is not pleasant passports are snatched and bags taken to be searched, having left four buses sitting 100m away they let us all through together - kids, old people total chaos and unpleasantness. I felt dehumanised and beaten by the time I got to the actual passport stamping place - she took my piece of paper exit visa but stamped my passport anyway - could be interesting getting back in - stay tuned!

After the wonderful Jordanian welcome it's been a shock being here.
However we are HERE with young boys with machine guns strolling around, with many many mothers carrying children - you could make a fortuning selling baby slings here, with orthodox jews sweeping past, with fruit sellers outside the door, with the smell of BBQing lamb wafting from the street below, within the peace of the Paulushaus. We have retreated triumphant from the smells and noises and crowds of the bazaar inside the Damascus Gate with a felafel clutched in our hands and did the culturally inappropriate thing and ate it outside in a park.

So now I have come from sitting on a terrace just in front of the Damascus Gate as the muzzerin calls from the Dome of the Rock watching the swirl of people below and the lights for the walls come on. This seems everyone's city - as Alli said it shouldn't belong to anyone.

I have to admit that I found it ironic that i was asked at one checkpoint if i had a weapon with me - i pulled my shocked face - not allowed these in Australia - you are not allowed them here either the girl behind the counter told me - while her companion with his machine gun lounged against the doorway behind her. What does this sort of gun presence all around you and this sort of distrust of others do to a population - i guess we'll learn more of this as the weeks go on.

Suffice to say for now that I'm just soaking it in which is perhaps the best you can do in Jerusalem.

Shalom/Salaam

Friday Cacophony

I'm just waking up from an afternoon nap in Aqaba – right down on the Red Sea nestled between the Israeli and Saudi Coast lines. The muzzerin is calling us to prayer yet again and the noise coming into the window from which we can see the sea Is chaotic.

After a candle lit walk back down the Siq to the Treasury on Wednesday night we sat in relative quiet and listened to rabble and flute – the flute in particular was beautiful at first sounding as if it was coming from the top of the Treasury. Sitting on the ground being served more sage tea, at first I was disappointed that there wasn't more music but the ground does get hard – esp after all the walking that had happened that day. At various times as we walked down the Siq you could look up through the overbending cavern tops to see stars twinkling – a reminder that we were far from civilization as we knew it – but perhaps closer to what was once known here.

Thursday was another desert day – this time just out into the vast almost moonscape landscape of the Wadi Rum. In Arabic this means disconnected mountains and they surely are – a bit reminisce of central Australia in parts the old sandstand thrusting from the desert floor in eroded and windswept formations. We took a four hour 4 wheel drive bounce into the desert to watch the sun do her magic on the sandstone and to see the marvels of erosion close up. IN a loose cotton shirt and with a scarf around each of us Allison and I had fun pretending to be travelling ladies from another era! Mind you the very large bruise I've acquired from bouncing a little high over a sand dune teether me fairly here.

Panoramic ever changing but incredibly permanent – this is the homeland of the indigenous peoples of Jordan – the Bedouin which made going to stay at their camp a bit worrying for me at first – wondering if we were being insensitive tourists – however the big difference here is that these people are respected and valued by the rest of the population – it is a thing of honour to be a Jordanian with Bedouin connections. And when the King wants to make important national decisions he first comes here to take tea in the desert around the open fires that seem to be conjured from nowhere. He talks and listens with these people learning from their wisdom for you have to be smart to survive in the desert with no water etc for so long. Only after this consultation is a decision made. Much to learn from I think.

To complete the full tourist experience we got up at 4.45 to prepare to ride camels into the desert to see the sunrise – camel riding is not a comfortable experience – they begrudgingly kneel down for you to climb on board – with much grunting and at times spitting but then they have get up – it reminded me of Dave playing rough games and horsey with the boys – that lurching forward and hoping not to fall as the camel arises. My camel keep wanting to trot – not a good look and it took what we've dubbed adventure photography to a new level – some shots were duds because it was risky enough taking one hand from the saddle. Anyways we saw the sun creep its way into the eastern sky – nothing nothing nothing and then the pink golden orbs bursts over the horizon throwing colour across the entire 180 desgree landscape. Beautiful

Hence the sense of cacophony this afternoon – less then 12 hours since that silence to Friday afternoon in a city – sigh.

Other kingdoms

Magnifcent, awe inspiring, majestic, ginormolus – none of these words captures Petra. We got there really early so as to be amongst the first to walk down the Siq – it was worth it – the excitement in the group palpable. Every corner you turned was breathtaking – I'll remember always the crunching of the gravel and the clicking of camera shutters going off! I spent much of the day standing looking up in awe – a mighty valley carved into the rocks – it's natural beauty alone would make it a stand out. But coupled with this is the incredible carvings left by the almost unknown Nabataeans. What we call Petra, was the capital of the Nabatean kingdoms – an Arabic kingdom originally from the area of Saudi Arabia who settled in this valley around 500 BCE and had control of this territory which is prosperous as it has the silk route running through it from the Red Sea to Syria.

 

The after life was the big deal for these people. That and the fact that they believed that they shouldn't build things – only carve. Hence the whole of Sella (later named Petra by the Romans) was a city of tombs. While they lived – usually in tents or caves – the inhabitants spent their lives craving their family tombs – and naturally the grander the better.

 

As a kingdom they were smart and their monuments so many influences – particularly Greek but also Roman, Egyptian and Assyrian. On the way into the holy city they had temples to many god and also designed temples that incorporated symbolism from many cultures. They seem to have been an excellent example of multiculturalism – inviting priest from as far away as Syria and then craving temples in their honour. Eventually the desire for the control of the silk road become too much for the Romans and they took over the city.

 

The Roman city is at the bottom of the Nabatean city and is in true Roman style – square street layout and north south orientation. Standing at the Roman site it's hard not to see the contrast between the more organic and fitting into the shape of the place work of the carvers and the stark straight lines of the Romans.

A Hazy Promise

Moses, was it this cloudy when you stood on this mountain?
God's taunt – this far and no further
Did you strain too – to make out Jericho
Across the black smudge of the River Jordan
Without the corrective of a telephoto lens
And surely with some loss of vision
by 125 years of age.

Or was this place home after eight years
So that you didn't stand gazing
Pining yearning for what isn't.
Had the shoeless holy ground years receded
So that you were living on memory
Maybe even thinking yourself no longer
A believer in promised lands.
That hazy ill defined place across the river
and no the river is even no more than a trickle.

A watery day

Today we headed west towards Israel. Firstly visiting the baptism site of Jesus in the Jordan River. Bethany on Jordan - in my mind I was expecting there would still be a village or something but its just a remnant creek. Until 1995 it was army land because of the proximity to Israel and no one was allowed to visit. But with the Peace Accord the land has been opened up and it's now possible to walk to the place where they say Jesus was baptized.

However unexpectedly – because over the years the River Jordan has changed course there isn't even any water there! - just a sign and a chapel and steps leading down from what may have been an earlier church. Can you tell I was a bit underwhelmed?

Jordan claims that Jesus was baptized on this the east bank and our guide keeps quoting the bible – but I can find no references to the distances of which he speaks which has led them to identifying this particular location.

Moving along we then walked to the actual River Jordan – again it's now a tiny rivulet rather than the grand and rushing river that the NT seems to imply. Being only 6m from Israel means we had to notify the Jordanian Security so they could notify the Israeli security on the other side. Guns and soldier on both sides – ironically waving to us though not I suspect to each other.

I look forward to going to the other side of the Jordan in a couple of weeks time - this time we got to put just a foot in the water but on the other side access seems easier.

From Bethany on Jordan we went to the Dead Sea. It's low down so your ears pop. And you really do float – so much that it's actually hard to swim and hard to even stand up. And the taste is revolting! After a while I got the hang of the floating and it was quite relaxing – expect more news on this front at the end of the time here when we'll be at the resort.

Eating like a king

Last night's dinner was a treat.

We went with the whole group to the downtown area of Amman - so much quieter when it's not a holy day weekend!

We ate dinner at a tiny cafe famous for its hummus - so famous in fact that the king of Jordan and his family come here - evidenced by the huge photo of same king on the wall outside the cafe. As a large group we didn't fit inside - I'd say it seated 10 if you were very friendly - so the owners set us up on plastic tables and chairs outside in an alleyway. Our plates - piece of paper were produced and the obligatory glasses of sweet black tea. Then the yumminess - smooth as butter hummus served with still warm flat bread. Accompanying this was the most sublime felafel - light as a feather and tasty as. We also had some stew like stufff called foul - no joke!
Sitting in the cooler night air in an alley sharing food - it was like being in the Mastercard ad. Oh yes and it cost 2 dinar!

But the night got better - the tour guide has a friend who lives in the downtown area, an artist and oud player he welcomed us into his home. We'd thoughtfully picked up some sweets on the way - so we sat in the dusty book room of his home, surrounded by textbooks of a bygone ear and he prepared sage tea and we ate the yummiest dessert - called kulafa - a sweet cheese mixture covered in coconut and fried - you eat it still warm so the curds stretch out -YUM.

Lovely indeed.

Jerash – Roman sensory overload

Yesterday we really did travel back in time – Jerash – or Gerasa is this incredibly well preserved Roman ruin –it was completely submerged in sand for centuries and they have only been exacavating here for 30 years. Hard ground and around 28 even in the winter – no wonder the archaeologists near the entrance were having such a tough time.

One of the Decapolis – that is one of the places knocked over from the Persians by Alexander the Great around 332 BCE this town was then in turn taken over and redesigned byt the Roman Imperial machine. It become one of originally 10 towns that we had identical layouts throughout the empire – to allow the easy transit of goods across the empire, joined by the famous roman roads. This one still has intact almost the whole city design from the huge ovaloid forum near the entrance for trading to the cordo maximus – main street that ran north south with soaring Corinthian colunms, a veritable highway wide enough to take chariots in both directions side by side – with indentations in the paving to prove it. Two theatres and a hippodrome ensured your average Gesarian had opportunity for sport and theatre or town meetings – all aided by the brilliant design features of these places with plenty of exits (apparently stadium today are still modeled on this style).

Having walked through Ephesus the difference in style is remarkable – the structure of the place, the absolute imprinting of the Roman will on the landscape (diverting the river on less) to keep to their master plan designs . We joked that it’s like McDonalds today – same layout all around the world!
Prize for the seemingly most out of place sight is the playing of bagpipes by buskers in these theatre ruins – I saw the same thing yesterday at the Amman citadel. A small band of two pipers and a drum playing everything from traditional Arabic music to Scotland the Brave. It’s just too weird for words – a testament perhaps to the British occupation from 1917 to 1946. This is really a young country and it seems very adaptable – they have adopted things with ease from other cultures throughout their history.
The other overwhelming thing about Jordan is the dryness – it’s dusty everywhere, I’m covered in the pale dust from the limestone features of Jerash but even in Amman there was dust everywhere. It’s one of the driest places on earth – even the olive trees look like they are hanging onto the sides of the steep hills for dear life. And then quixotically today we drive past many nurseries by the side of the road – it was hard at first glance to see that anyone had any trees on their property at all but closer inspection shows dust covered low water tolerant plants near the more affluent suburbs.

On a political note we also drove past what are referred to as the Palestinean camps, once there were tents now there’s building and shanty type towns stretching along the ridges to the north of Amman. 3 million of the country’s population of 6 million is Palestinean.

Welcome the stranger among you

How wonderful it is to be with people who are hospitable.

Imagine being spotted across an amphitheatre and waved to, then called to by the teenage girl "Hello, can I take your photo". What a privilege to be seen as a welcome presence in this place. We returned the favour then went on our way. Through the fascinating museum of popular crafts - as I write I can identify different traditional headpieces worn by Bedouin, and Palestinians from Ramallah, Bethlehem and Damascus....by tht time I get home I doubt it :-)

Later Allison said "I wish we'd got their names". So we retired to a bit of Roman seating to plan our next foray into the busy Friday (read crazy weekend) traffic in Amman - drive and blow your horn the rules seem to be irrelevant (note to self remember the cars come the other way!) And then the family spotted us again. This time because 'Mum' had been looking for us as she really wanted a photo of her and her girls with us. We sat alongside total strangers who suddenly didn't seem strangers anymore - she hugged me (yes I teary-ed up) and told me she loved me. How special is that!

This is juxtaposed against the incredible maleness of this society - no women working anywhere. Even in women's clothes shops it's all 95% men serving - it's a weird culture shock - and if I am to acquire one of those beautiful Palestinian dresses then I'm going to have to brave it - gulp!

Too tired to think more now... off to early dinner and hopefully sleep.