Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Open a door


How does one get acquainted with people in a foreign land with a foreign tongue? In what medium are cultural characteristics most fully displayed to an “outsider?” Where do I have to go to even begin to understand Palestine through the people here?
These have been questions that I have asked myself over and over throughout my three months in this “holy land.” I would like to say that, at my age, I am fairly well traveled and have seen a fair amount of the world. But I don’t believe I have really experienced the places I have been. In New Zealand, I was able to comfortably live in a friend’s home and not have to worry about an inability to converse with the locals (besides the accent). In Germany and Europe I was able to latch onto my fellow colleagues in study and stay removed from the local culture and language. And here in Jerusalem, once again, I have lived in a comfortable situation along side family and fellow internationals, rarely having to, or being able to, engage the local people on a deeper level than “how are you?, Good, how are you?...”
Of course in each experience abroad I have had glimmers of deeper penetration into the lives of the locals and I have come away from my travels cherishing these moments much more than I value seeing the trillions of bricks that make the millions of churches all over the world. Uninhibited conversations at bars, cooking in my flat in Germany with my German roommates, joining in on festivities like baptisms and marriages; these have been highlights of my travels. But rarely have I had the opportunity to be invited to enter into the most sacred of places, the place where one’s understanding of lifestyles can be deepest. Especially in the Palestinian culture this sacred and very protected place is the home and the family. Azzam, one employee of St. Georges, and a man that I have come to know well here, invited Jill, Stephen, Mark, our course chaplain, and I to his home in Bethany for dinner.
Earlier that day I was at a convent that overlooked the Old City called Sisters of Abraham. From the vantage point on the roof I could almost see Azzam's home in Bethany. But separating us from his home was the Wall. A distance of less than 2 miles, in which employees at St. Georges say they used to be able to make in twenty minutes, could now take them up to two hours from home to work because of the wall. Even driving there that night In an Israeli plated car took half an hour. Bethany, which used to be a neighboring community with Jerusalem, just on the other side of the Mount of Olives is now a distant Palestinian town that is gradually being encircled by illegal settlements.
But I digress. When we arrived at Azzam's home we were immediately greeted with a glass of fresh lemonade from his wife and shy greetings from his four wonderful children. His greeting room was well furnished in comfortable Islam green couches and armchairs, perfectly capable of hosting a very nice gathering. I thoroughly enjoyed his family. He had two beautiful daughters that he raved about how smart they were and two young boys. The oldest girl helped her mother while the younger girl lost herself in her room playing, oddly enough, Grand Theft Auto on her computer. The two boys were full of energy. The older of the two was definitely a free spirit. He would wander around conspicuously looking for trouble with his younger brother. The youngest boy provided a riot of laughter for us. At one point he grabbed a toy radio and started screaming into the device what equated in English as “OVER AND OUT” for almost five minutes. Azzam clearly was looking for some peace and quite from the boys but when I, and the rest of our party, started to laugh hysterically at the innocence of this Azzam could only laugh as well.
The meal was a traditional Palestinian meal of vegetables in rice, chicken, Arabic salad, olives and pickles. It was prepared perfectly by his wife and her sister earlier in the day. The meal was followed by fruit for dessert, Arabic coffee, then and a sweet of some sort like baklava. One of my clearest memories of this night was being absolutely stuffed by the amount of food throughout the night. Not the meal in particular but all of the desserts and coffees and other wonderful treats that we were presented before and after the meal. After eating at Azzam’s we also visited another employee of St. George’s, Khalil, who was recovering from recent back surgery and had been off his feet for a while. Khalil’s house was gorgeous and, just as Azzam’s, a receptive environment. After our initial greetings of three kisses of the cheeks, we were presented another round of coffee, treats, etc. This was about the tipping point for me but I couldn’t reject the gracious offer of more baklava.
As I reread this last passage it seems that all I brought away from this experience was a full stomach. But actually I came away more enriched understanding of the Palestinian way of life. The community aspect of this lifestyle is so strong. I consider myself blessed to have grown up in the uber-supportive community of Genesee, and from this perspective I can honestly say that I would not hesitate, in fact I would prefer, to raise a kid in a Palestinian community or one like it. In my mind, this is one of the biggest tragedies of the conflict on the ground. As the Palestinian are continually , systematically pressured to leave, so is the traditional lifestyle that has lived unchanged for generations. And this can never be reclaimed.
Reflecting on this point makes me even more appreciative of where my friends and I learned to live, and this appreciation I can only hope to begin to express. But it also makes me appreciative of the environment that still exists in the untarnished parts of the world. I know that Palestinians aren’t the first and certainly not the last people/lifestyle/culture to deteriorate because of neocolonialism but for the first time I have been able to relate this loss for these people to the feeling that I would have if it were Genesee and not Palestine. I am eternally grateful to the families of Azzam and Khalil for opening their doors to me.


Don’t be afraid to open a door

Warren 

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

A Quick Update... For Mom's sake



Since I only have about 15 days left in the Holy Land I assume that this would be a good time to give an update on what I have been doing “professionally” lately. After moving back to the college from Augusta Victoria and my olive picking experience, I have been working hard at being the Course Assistant on the Palestine of Jesus pilgrimage. Since this is the real reason that I am in Jerusalem, I have given as much time to making sure that the courses run smoothly. My job is just that. I am the practical arm of the leadership team within the course. The course director and chaplain live in an entirely different realm of understanding the real world because during the course they must provide insight and lectures into Christian spirituality and gospel. So, since I have little of either of those insights, I take care of the planning. I maintain hotel and lunch arrangements, buy tickets to sights, make announcements about modest dress and other various odd jobs. Since this is a pilgrimage, I have shed the boring Course Assistant title for a much more appropriate and encompassing title of Shepard. I am the Shepard that tends to his flock of middle-aged sight seers and my only hope is that I don’t loose one of them I hope I don’t give the impression that this “job” is difficult at all. In fact it is fairly easy and painless so I really am able to enjoy myself here.
Some things that I have enjoyed include my current location, the Sea of Galilee. Those who have been here can attest to the beauty of the lake against the backdrop of the Golan Heights. The simplicity of this place is wonderfully relaxing. I imagine that the beauty of this place played a significant role in the formation of the man that was Jesus. I enjoy this part of the trip especially because we study the place where Jesus was a man. He is not the legend and myth that he has been associated with in Jerusalem. Instead, Jesus can be seen as a social revolutionary breaking the taboos of the early Jews. Sometimes lost is that fact that he was a man that lived for 33 years with an incredibly humbling story.
The experience of working in Galilee is much different than working in Jerusalem. The course members seem to finally relax, start to interact together like a thriving community of pilgrims, and blow off some steam. In Jerusalem, there is a hurried feeling to the whole experience because of the hustle of the city and the massive amounts of tour groups each day so it is nice to get away.
I have been asked whether or not I am looking forward to coming home. Answer: Yes, but with some hesitation. I am looking forward to being home, seeing friends and skiing but I know that I will miss this place. As I have said before, I have never felt unsafe here but I have felt a whole range of emotions and frustrations that I don’t regularly have to deal with. These can add up and weigh someone down and make them yearn for a nice book by a fireplace surrounded by comfort, I realize how life changing this experience has been for me and I think that I am just on the tip of the iceberg of my decompression and reflection mode.

See ya’ll soon!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Shake Me?

I have this wonderfully innocent story about my time on the Mount of Olives at Augusta Victoria. It is a story that sheds light and comedy on my ineptness at being a self-sustaining bachelor. I went down to the nearby commerce intersection in At-Tur, the local community. I walked in the first shop to buy some noodles. I then went to the shop across the road to pick up some pasta sauce. And finally, after crossing the road one more time to head back toward the guesthouse in which I was living, I went into the produce shop. At this point I was overwhelmed by choices and couldn't decide what vegetable I wanted to put into my poor-man's pasta. After minutes of deliberation I walked out and crossed the road again to the fast food fried chicken restaurant. I still have the dried noodles from that day.

Now the not so funny part of this story... Tonight I watched as the vegetable stand, which was maybe 100 yards from my home, burned to the ground.

Jill and I went to meet some friends and have a little outdoor dinner over a well-contained bonfire. When we arrived there was already plenty of commotion. Cars were backed up all the way up the hill, people were watching from afar, and cars packed full of Palestinians were squealing their tires as they sped toward us with doors ajar. We parked across the road from the house we were going to because we could sense that we might be stuck later on if things escalated anymore. Just on cue, as we were crossing the road and waiting for the gate to be opened, shots were fired down the hill and more cars came flying by. This was turning out to be a situation.

While we were out back BBQ-ing we were unable to hear if the situation was worsening or not. Until a security guard came in a hurry to tell the host that there was some trouble. I ventured over to a lookout point to see thirty foot flames shooting up out of the same produce shop. The underlying story has yet to surface as to why this place burned down but apparently this was the result an incident between two Palestinian families in conflict with each other.

This story in no way is meant to scare you back home concerned about my well being. I know that this place is perceived as a dangerous place to someone who hasn't been here because of its history of tension but in all reality I have never felt unsafe here. And that includes tonight.

Putting this into perspective is helpful for me. I'm sure that many meth houses and even gang related crimes that ended up the destruction of someone's livelihood happened more than I care to know about in San Bernardino while I was at school. I know that conflicting families have quarreled over small issues for centuries. Just look at the Capulets and Montagues.

The reason I write this story is more reflective than anything. I have been more frustrated, perplexed, and dumbfounded while living here than I have ever been. Ideas like personal freedom, and self-determination are utopian dreams for most people living under the Israeli yoke. I have had numerous political discussions about how oppressed peoples need to band together and overcome and how various actors within the conflict are perpetuating the status quo because it is "working." None of this, though, could have an affect on me, after all this is my field, my preferred study. It's easy to argue about what is best for the Palestinians and still remain distant and unaffected. It is far more difficult to witness someone's livelihood go up in flames knowing that this produce shop may have been the only thing they had to hold onto in this city of turmoil. I am not surprised by political, social and military movements and measures. These things cannot shake me... But I was shook by this.



Monday, November 8, 2010

Ramparts
















The sage of the Old City sipping an ice coffee
Just last Sunday Jill, Stephen and I went on a Ramparts walk from Jaffa Gate to Lion Gate. I have taken a considerable amount of time to explore the Old City since I have been here and am as comfortable with the meandoring and deadending streets that make up this maze of a city. The Ramparts walk, though, offered a very different perspective of the holiest city in the world. The walk is on top of the about half wall that encircles the Old City so I was able to see many things that I would have never known existed. From this vantage point, and guidance of Stephen, I was able to more completely piece together the Old City. The Old City, in its millenia of existance has been witness to many creations, destructions, restructurings, shifting military and political hands, and the general piling up of its streets. But when I would look out over the many towers, minaretes, domes, and water heaters I felt like the city somehow worked. I know this statement is probably a huge contradiction to the true normalicy of the city but viewing the city from above made it seem somewhat orderly and peaceful.
Sunset over the Old City

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Last Night

So I have plenty of half finished blogs and blog topics that I have either began or made a file for. I have been pretty busy with harvest lately but have wanted to write more about what kind of things I have observed and done each day. Yesterday, though, deserves an immediate documentation.
Monday morning I woke up groggy and a little under the weather but still went to work all day. Later I went and played basketball for 2 hours until 10:30. Of course, I woke the next day even more tired with a full day ahead of me and it was hot. I decided early in the morning that I would try to get out of afternoon's work then fall asleep to a replay of MNFL. I guess one never knows what's going to happen.
Brit, my olive-picking boss, recognized that we were both tired so she recommended that we go to a conference on the Israel-Palestine situation. There were some incredible speakers, both Israeli and Palestinian and both with some insight into the prospect of peace. There were directors of peace organizations, chief negotiators for both sides, former ambassadors, policy advisors, and foreign policy professors. All of these men were dignitaries that had differing perspectives on mistakes committed by each side in the last 10 years of the "peace process" and differing ideas on what the future looks like. One of the more compelling aspects of this conference was that it was held on the 15th anniversary of the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, the Prime Minister that had just signed the Oslo Accords bringing Israel and Palestine the closest to peace they had ever been. Since that time the two sides have only grown further and further apart. (One of the speakers said that Arafat told him that after hearing of Rabin's assassination that the peace process had died along with him.) There was absolutely no congruence on any idea except that this must be solved soon. Most believed that the only healthy way to establish a future working relationship is a full divorce, with a boat load of hang-ups and a division of Jerusalem. A one-state solution, in everyone except one man's opinion (an American sadly) would not be sufficiently able to attain some reasonable level of stability or equality. The analogy that the speakers used about a division was to compare it to a domestic divorce. In order for there to be some level of regional stability there had to be substantial levels of state and cultural stability. One speaker also pointed out that a pure quantitative analysis of a unified democratic state does not imply that there would be equality for the Palestinians. Institutions like Hebrew University in East Jerusalem, that cater to the Israeli and international students, would have already established and would further the educational and socio-economic gap between Israelis and Palestinians. It was the most interesting series if speeches that I have ever heard concerning this muddled situation.
Midway through the seminar Brit got a text from a friend that invited us to Tel-Aviv for a debut of an album that his friend had been working on. I said no immediately because I remembered my promise to get some rest that night. But as we left the conference after 3 ½ hours of paying attention, I convinced myself to go because… well why not? So we went back to Augusta Victoria, I had a cup of coffee and then we were picked up and heading toward the coast.
Picture over the bar at Tsuzammen and I have no idea why
I had no great expectations for the “concert.” It was in a bar called Tsuzammen (which I think may be Yiddish because it is close to the German word “zusammen” meaning together or same). It was a very small coffee shop like bar that was probably at capacity with a mere 30 people. The Indie / Fiona Apple sound (not my description) of this woman and her acoustically gifted husband was very pleasant for the laid back night. After the show was over we started back toward Jerusalem.
I learned from this night that I am absolutely justified in “burning the candle at both ends” as my mother would say. I realize that I only have a short time here and the more culturally and out of my comfort zone experiences that I have, the more rich an overall experience this will be. I woke the next morning slightly late for work and tired but content.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Olive Harvest (Mount of Olives, Garden of Gethsemane)

Today was the the beginning of the Lutheran World Federation olive harvest! I guess I should explain what I have been up to the last week and a half. As a volunteer here my responsibility has been to clear the olive trees of younger, low lying branches. These branches, called suckers, take energy from the olive producing parts of the tree. On some well manicured trees this is not a huge problem but with over 800 trees on the property I, alone, have quite a bit of work in store. So far I have cleared about half of the property but will probably go over the sections I did earlier because I have become more accustomed to how the olive trees are supposed pruned.
The process of harvesting olives is pretty straightforward. After I cleared the brush we were able to lay tarps under the tree. And after that it's all grunt work. There are some specialized rakes that can be used for the taller olives but mostly people use their hands to essentially milk the olive ripe vines. It's pretty tedious work but not incredibly taxing.
Today was the culmination of my prep work. Around 50 vocational training students came this morning to the Mount of Olives to harvest. The boss said that these would be the most unruly group of volunteers and he was right. I had no chance of containing or harnessing their energy with my lack of Arabic. But this didn't stop them talking to me which made the harvest fun. A couple of kids took a liking to me and started to butcher my name by calling me Wararine. It's not an easy name for them to pronounce. At one point a visiting American girl came to try out harvesting. She had been told that it was an experience she needed here in Palestine. She was pretty attractive and the boys flocked to her like moths to light. They had been pretty productive until she showed up. It was too bad for her even though she handled it pretty well but it was hilarious to watch for me. The dogs had caught the scent and the garbled game spitting was on.
At the end of the day we had collected 26 bags of olives, around 800 kilos, which apparently is a lot and a successful day. Good start to the harvest season.

The pictures I have added were taken about a week and a half ago at the Garden of Gethsemane, the valley that Jesus was arrested. This was on Armenian property and Brit had a friend that was volunteering for the weekend so we decided to lend a hand. This was my first time picking olives and it was an easy way to get accustomed because the gardener kept the trees healthy and easily accessible. The garden was situated right next to the Tomb of Mary so there were tourists on the walkway above the whole day. We had a pleasant surprise when the Armenians offered us lunch. It was Armenian pizza and it wasn't half bad. It was a pretty special day in a very special and unique garden that I very thankful for.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Ways of the Wilderness Part I

Wadi Kelt and Jericho in the backround
What can be said about desert monasteries in Egypt that haven't already been said?... Well apparently a whole lot. Since I last posted I have had quite the range of intellectual and spiritual experiences. The first day of our trip was spent traveling thru the West Bank toward the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea, of course, is the lowest point on earth. Before I had just taken that as some fact that is "cool" but really, it probably wouldn't bother me. I was wrong. My recently reconstructed elbow ached. It would pop and crunch nearly every movement I made. I could not believe the pressure and humidity that this place had.
St. Gerasimo
Our first stop was at the monastery of St. Gerasimo. This monastery was situated just a few kilometers from the Jordan River and Jericho so getting out of the bus this first time was a shock to the system. Twenty-five miles from Jerusalem, and a couple thousand feet below, the temperature had changed probably upwards of 30 degrees. Our next stop was a little weird. Qumran, an ancient and deserted monastery estimated to have been around before and during the time of Jesus, was the place where some Bedouin sheepherders had discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls a couple of decades earlier. Apparently John the Baptist may have lived here for a couple of years but left probably because he realized they might have had a couple screws loose.
Dead Sea from Qumron
After a brief stop at Mosada we went to our first night at a desert retreat called Zman Midbar (Desert Time) in the Negev Desert. This place had some spirit! A hike to the nearby ridge gave us a view of the Negev and Judean deserts as well as the Dead Sea. Incredible. We all slept in a large tented area built into the hills. There was also a "prayer building" which the owners talked to us about their mission and aim of creating a non-exclusive place of spiritual peace. The owners were a very happy and peaceful Jewish couple that lived in Erat, a nearby Israeli city. For the first time since I have been here I was able to engage with Israelis as normal, peaceful people. During the night I heard in the distance a Bedoiun tribal dance. The drums and chanting really soothed me into sleep.
Zman Midbar Spirituality Center, Negev Desert
The next day we woke to the sunrise and left early for the Elat/Taba boarder between Israel and Egypt. Our tour guide, Jacoban, was a wonderful narrator of the trip to the boarder. One of the many insights of hers was about alcohol in the Muslim faith. I had always thought that Medina must have been a city of drunks for Muhammad to outlaw it but according to Jacoban the origin is more about dehydration of a nomadic desert people than purification. Sadly, she left us at the boarder, as we had to totally unload the first bus and walk a half-mile thru boarder checks and customs into Egypt. 
Pharaoh's Island outside of Taba, Egypt 
The next six hours were spent crossing the Sinai toward Suez and Cairo. We had quite the entourage on this particular leg of the journey. Our new tour guide, two bus drivers for the long trip and our own security escort equipped with an automatic weapon that he carelessly concealed in his overcoat. It was as if we were vulnerable to an attack from one of donkey riding teenagers that inhabited the pit stops. I guess that's why no one messed with us. I slept most of the rest of the day until we descended into Cairo and Giza. I first spotted the pyramids on the horizon about twenty miles away; they were surely the highest structures around. I was able to snap a picture with a minaret perfectly sticking out the middle of one of the pyramids. This picture was totally by chance but it is really symbolic of something; I'm not sure what the symbolism is yet, but I'm working on it.
Pyramids of Giza with Minaret
That night we stayed at a hotel in Giza nearby the pyramids. While the course director's son, Adam, and I played pool at the "bar" (it was far from a bar) a wedding precession went by. The drums and singing reminded me of the Bedouin the night before; it was quite the celebration. The men sang loudly and cheerfully and some of the women ululated. This is a shrill throat yodel or howl, for lack of better words, that fills the room.
Day three started with a somewhat hurried visit to the Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx. Our tour guide was a delightful man named Ashraf who told me about how he used to climb the pyramids in his youth. He shared with us the two theories of the construction of the pyramids: the first, he said jokingly, was that aliens built them. The second, more practical, explanation was that they built ramps that were able to transport the up to 75-ton blocks. The problems with this theory is that this ramp that circles the pyramid would have been more difficult to build than the pyramid itself and it would have had to be able to support an immense amount of weight. Even today we don't have a crane that would allow us to lift blocks this heavy as high and far as they would need to be lifted to construct these structures! It doesn't stop there. The pyramids were built using limestone quarried from a mountain nearby and 75 ton blocks of granite that was collected nearly 850km away. More than 2 millennia later we still aren’t exactly sure how they were constructed. There are 119 pyramids in Egypt.
Cairo Entrepreneur 
Our next stop was at the papyrus institute where some Egyptian with a southern drawl taught us how papyrus is made. His sell was good enough to get me to buy more papyrus than I need but I'm on vacation. We also stopped off in Old Cairo and the "Hanging" Coptic church. This was a gorgeous church built over top of an old Roman structure called the Babylonian Towers. This brick structure protected the church from the seasonal flood of the Nile.
Copts, meaning Egyptians, are the surviving Christians from Egypt. This large minority has it's own language that resembles the ancient Egyptian's. The written form is made up of ancient Egyptian symbols combined with seven added Greek. The Coptic belief is based off the teachings of Saint Mark the apostle, in the 1st century after he traveled to Egypt preaching the word of Jesus. Ashraf told us that under the current conservative Egyptian government, there is a sense of discrimination against the Copts that surfaces as mosques are springing up all over but the Coptics find it very difficult, almost impossible to construct a new church.
Anafora
After this visit to Old Cairo we set off to the west toward Anafora, a Coptic desert retreat center that we would spend the next two nights. This was a very nice little compound that was self sustaining and quaint. We stayed in bungalow-like houses. They were dome shaped, white buildings that were just perfectly suited for a desert oasis. On the second night there the local Copts were celebrating the annual blessing of water. Just that morning they had finished filling a beautiful, 70-meter pool. The local Copts came to take communion then float a cross in the water. It was a very special ceremony to be apart of/observer to.
Blessing of Water at Anafora
The next morning we parted toward Wadi el Natrun, a natural depression west of the Nile that offered springs for the ancient desert people, to visit three very early monasteries in the region. Monasteries of St. Bishoi, as-Souriani, and Abu Makarios. Side note: seeing one monastery is just as good as seeing them all. You might be surprised to know that there was no noticeable difference between the three; a wall surrounding the complex, a couple of church that you had to take your shoes off to go into, a fortress to protect the inhabitants from dirty rotten robbers from Lybia, and very old monk living quarters. Really there was no reason for the repetition. But as jaded as I sound I really did gain an appreciation for the solitude and devotion that these men were seeking. I kind of had an admiration for their resolve. I know that there is no way I could put myself in that situation though. I don't desire solitude that much and I think that my inner monologue would drive me crazy. But, interestingly enough, every one of the monks that gave the tour had a cell phone that would not stop ringing.
Truck full of camels
Having escaped from the abunas we set off for our hotel all the way on the Red Sea. Our intended hotel was having AC issues so we were forced to move our stay. Just a note on air conditioning in the Middle East: if there were any outside sense of hostility from this region before AC became the norm, I would sympathize entirely. I would be an angry, sandy SOB if I had to live here without AC. But that's just me. Anyway, the subsequent hotel that we stayed was inappropriately named Hotel Romance. I was not in love with this hotel. It wasn't the rooms or food, actually they both very nice. I did not enjoy the dry campus mentality as well as the pool hours (sunrise to sunset) in a pool that teased us with lights in the pool. I just couldn’t understand and needless to say, I couldn’t have been less comfortable in Romance Hotel.
View from Holy Cave of St Anthony
The next day we went to the monastery of St. Anthony, the originator of monastic life. When Anthony was young his father and mother died leaving him a very large wealth and 300 acres of land on the Nile. After a couple years of contemplating his Christianity he decided to give all his land to the poor and go live in solitude. He ended up establishing the first monastery in the world just under the cliff face that he lived in for 40 years. After our tour led by Abba Ruwas, a delightful old monk that seemed to love to entertain and teach, we were able to climb to the holy cave of Anthony on Mount Qulzum. As I struggled to fit in the cave I started to appreciate the lifestyle he lived. Then I hit my head on a rock and decided to leave before I swore in a holy place. The cave had a great view of the surrounding desolate land and on a clear day Abba Ruwas said you could see to the Red Sea. On the way back to the hotel Jill insisted that we stop at a market so we could get and I quote "some special drinks that the hotel doesn't offer." pretty diplomatic of her huh? I sure do love my aunt!
Hoop on the Gulf of Suez
The next day's 7-hour bus ride around the Gulf of Suez and underneath the Suez Canal was hot. The tunnel under the canal is pretty cool though. It dives under the bypassing freight boats that are lined up waiting to enter the canal as far as the eye can see. When we started to head toward St. Catherine monastery in the southern tip of Sinai Peninsula, it was incredible to see the landscape change from plateau desert land to really mountainous desert. As we headed up Wadi Firan we could see free roaming camels grazing in the trees. The colors of these mountains were incredible: deep red mountains with amber hues that fall steeply into sandy basins. Closer inspection yielded dark streaks of purple and black that seemed to trace the mountains like the rings of a tree would trace the trunk. It was as if the solidified lava bedrock of the world extended 8,500 ft above sea level.
tiger
3AM the next morning we woke for our EB camel ride up Mount Sinai. I was giddy. Never have I been so excited for an EB. The group gathered then were chosen by the Bedouin camel jockeys depending on our fit with the camel. The Bedouin that chose me was named Moses, however coincidentally, and our camel's name was Tiger. I started to laugh when he told me the name because I thought that it was just like naming your cat, Dog; as I said, I was in that tired, laugh at anything mood.
Summit of Mount Sinai from Elijah's Plateau
Camels are strange and beautiful creatures. For as big as they are, they are surprisingly graceful. Their backward knees allow them to lay straight up and down as you get on then stand up first with their back legs then the front. This is a sensation that you really can't properly prepare for and when we arrived at Elijah's plateau the abruptness of this move in reverse sent me into the saddle horn with a grunt. As you watch a camel walk you can see the softness of their feet and the length of their gate that really make the ride almost pleasant. Still though, the hour and a half ride up made me pretty sore until I found that crossing one leg in front of the saddle horn would take the pressure off my groin. So, mimicking what I saw in Lawrence of Arabia I sat that way for the rest of the trip. Moses was impressed. He said I sat like a Bedouin. I remember thinking, "I'm the man. I ride like a Bedouin."
Sunrise from Mount Sinai
I hiked up from Elijah's plateau to the top as the rest of the groups did a sunrise Eucharist. I was able to watch the amazing sunrise from a little perch off the eastern edge of the summit.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Getting Adjusted

Day 4 in Jerusalem:
Damascus Gate
Today is the first day that I have felt adjusted to the jet lag. It has been a more difficult adjustment then I would have thought but the coffee and tea help immensely. On Wednesday Jill gave me my first mini-tour through the Old City. We started in the Muslim quarter via Herod's Gate. Immediately on the inside we saw a "Jewish settlement." I knew this was happening outside the walls in E. Jerusalem but I had no idea that this was happening everywhere. Anyway, Jill went on to show me the Western Wall and Holy Sepulcher and came out the Damascus Gate. The next day I went on a walk with Andrew, the course director, and his son down the Kidron Valley and back into the Old City. This time we went through the Jewish quarter. There was a distinct difference from the Muslim quarter. The Jewish quarter was much newer and cleaner having been built mostly since 1968ish.
Tonight is the start of Yom Kippur, one of the Jew's holiest days. As I understand it, this is a day for Jews to repent and atone with God. It is a somber day of prayer that begins very shortly. Tonight and tomorrow the whole country will be at pretty much a standstill. Jill says it is very hard to get around, everything is closed, and the Israelis are even shutting off the TV. (Maybe a little over the top) So tonight, if all goes well, I want to go to the Western Wall and observe. We aren't sure whether we will get in but it is worth a shot.
Old City from top of Austrian Hospice (Holy Sepulcher: top right;
Church of the Redeemer: top left)
 Now that I am feeling more or less normal I am happy to start working on preparations for the upcoming course "Ways in the Wilderness." This will be my first of three courses here through St. Georges. I can't even begin to reflect how excited I am for next week to come and the course to start. The theme of the course is following the Exodus route. An abridged version of the trip: Wednesday we take off from Jerusalem and travel across the boarder to Egypt. We spend a couple of nights in Cairo exploring the pyramids/sphinx then head south toward the Suez Gulf. Then cross over the gulf to the Sinai Desert for a jeep trek across to Mt Sinai. Then we travel to the Red Sea, cross over, then head to Petra for two nights. Then we cross back into Israel after two weeks of travel. Should be fun!


Insha'Allah
Warren

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Arrival Day

Travelling across the globe is no easy task. I left Shane's house at 5:30 in the morning to start my day and a half of travel. Two planes, seventeen hours, and about 15,000 miles later I arrived in Tel Aviv. I was definitely nervous about entering Israel because I had heard a couple of negative stories about Israeli customs. Shortly before we arrived I journeyed to the bathroom to spiffy up a bit, intending to look sharp and avoid hassle. I was planning on trimming my man beard the night before at Shane's but the hedge trimmer-like clippers crapped out on me as I was in the middle of the trim. So, needless to say, I was a little apprehensive about my reception. To my suprise, I was able to pass right thru the multiple guard-women that stopped me. I am specific about saying women because I did not see a single customs attendent that was a man. So I just smiled and let them fall deep into my eyes, when they weren't looking through my passport.
Jill and Stephen picked me up and we started up the mountains toward Jerusalem. I thought that I was fairly rested but found soon that my body doesn't adjust as well as I would hope. Fighting through my exhaustion, I went with Jill to do some shopping. What an experience already! The first set of markets we went into were right next to the Old City. These were the Palestinian markets in East Jerusalem. They were cramped and had merchandise stacked 15ft on the walls. As small as it was, I was suprised how much stuff there was.
Later I went to visit Mark Brown at Agusta Victoria. Next month I will be working on the olive harvest on the estate. More to come.
I also met a man named Samer, the gardener at St. George. Samer lives in Bethany, a village about 3 miles from East Jerusalem. He told me breifly about how his village is now surrounded almost completely by Israeli erected barriers. I was able to see them in the distance. He showed me his green ID card and his admissions papers to get into E. Jerusalem. It takes him at least 45 minutes to get to St. George every day! Talk about jumping through hoops. And to top it off, he was born in the Old City and he is barely allowed in. Also more on my this as I talk to Samer more.
Tomorrow I make my first journey into the Old City. I am really excited about this trip. Hopefully I can begin to sort out the many intertwined histories in my head. I really can't believe I am here right now, its going to be special. Pictures to come.

Salaam and Shalom
Warren

Monday, September 6, 2010

Getting Ready

It's five days until I depart and I am still terribly unprepared. Hopefully, with the help of my beautiful mother, I will be wrapping up some of the more important "to-do's."