I mean a bus full not a full bus. I think they gathered all the “interesting” people and put them on the same coach. Not quite sure why “we” are on it but it is too late it is moving. They is a guy at the back who when he is not taking pictures he is brushing his hair, no too weird but every time he gets off or on the bus he gets the bush out and checks it in the wing mirror. We have Uncle buck in front of us with his asian wife and two girls between 12-15 you can tell this by the fact that they really don’t want to be there and their only question is how many stops before we are back at the boat (that was at 7:30 am). There are a couple from Ecuador who don’t speak English. A lady who covers half the aisle when she does eventually get into a seat. Various walking sticks including the veteran and his party still dressed in matching shirts, our guy from breakfast and lots of people with “personal” requirements for seating lighting and air conditioning. A couple of african ladies in what could be their local dress (that will be hot today). Two Portuguese chaps, now Judi and I used to have a code “those guys look Portuguese” well these guys are and look it . They would more likely be noted as “friends of Dorothy” these days. I make a note to check the outside of the coach to see if it has “League of Nations” painted on the side.
We start off ok docked in Haifa conquered by Byzantines, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottomans, Egyptians and the English (we at least built 2 oil refineries which we left behind ) and on the road a little early although it does not take long for the guide to start a rant against anyone local but not Jewish (if you get my drift) he is not entirely biased though he has a pop at the new immigrants from Eastern Europe as well. Someone at the front finds the coach has blinds and like shot everyone is pulling blinds down as fast as they can. I stop uncle buck pulling ours down by explaining I have come a long way and spent a lot of money to see this. He is not impressed he wants to be one of the herd of people traveling through the holy land not actually seeing any of it. They could be on a London tube for all the difference it makes. The Guide gamely carries on, something about capturing the Golan heights. After only ten minutes the more elderly have fallen asleep given they now have little or no daylight. I can see a long day stretching out in front on us.
We stop to take a look at the Sea of Galilee which is of course not a sea but a lake and not particularly big one at that. It is hot as usual and the haze has not lifted so it is very bright. We get all the facts about size and volume and how the water keeps going down and when it was captured (sorry liberated) from the Syrians. The guide takes us to the waters edge where the more devout amongst us of start to try and paddle, he attempts to stop them but once moving the herd is hard to stop and we wait 20 minutes for people to put shoes and socks back and climb up the slope.
Off to the next stop. The place where Peter (the Simon called Peter and his mother in law) lived. A church build over it seems the norm. The bricks underneath show a small round one room place nothing but rubble really but at least it is preserved for now. Next stop Capernaum where Jesus lived for a while and the white synagogue the white was unusual as the local rock is black. A quick trot around for some and a slow stagger for many. We eventually head off to see the river Jordan, not before the guy at the back has fixed his hair and the girls had asked when will we get to go shopping.
The River Jordan experience starts with a detailed explanation of what the gift shop has to offer and what is made locally. (so the girls get an early wish come true, not). We wander through once the spiel is done, “and don’t forget if you spend more than $110 you get 15% back on the tax duty” is the final comment. The River is by no means big in fact at this point it resembles a big stream however it is there and it is special. This is a place where people flock to get baptized and is regarded as one of those special biblical places. So much so the Ecuadorians rush passed us and are next spotted in long white gowns clothes tucked under their arms marching down to the river bank. They must be on a do it yourself kick as there are no clergy down there but interestingly there are lots of catfish, (go figure). There are people coming up the bank dripping wet and smiling which is heartening. Young and old and some singing. Now that’s better something which makes people feel good and does no harm to others.
We are on a timer although cats can not tell the time so we leave when the rest are shoo’d out of the shop. Lots of bags are hoisted onto the bus but none for us. Judi is smiling though as she saw a Nativity set like the one she bought from an Arab stall at 4 times the price in this Kibbutz (now would you believe that) so she now feels comfortable with her negotiating skills. I say negotiating I swear the guy had a tear in his eye as he handed it over to her.
On to lunch which was ok not bad enough to worry us but I am never good with these communal long tables and buffets which are there to serve several hundred people. The shepherd manages to round up his lost sheep by checking the shop and we are off again this time to Nazareth. we have been talking to some American ladies one for whom has lost her hat and thinks uncle buck is wearing it. I have to say it does not flatter him so I doubt that his daughters would have let him buy it and it possibly why they have refuse to walk next to him all day.
Nazareth the place where Jesus lived and worked in my mind was a quiet village. Not so now it ia actually a medium sized town inhabited by a mainly Arab population however the Israelis are now settling most of the Eastern European immigrants there to boost the population or so our Guide says. He gives up after 5 minutes explanation as with the blinds down and full of food two thirds of the bus is dozing. I watch the countryside roll by. It is a little sparse with lots of olive trees and where cultivated there are mango and banana and dates being grown in nice neat rows. There are also huge sunflower fields ready for harvest so no bright yellow Van Gogh pictures here.
We literally jump off the bus and are taken through a bazaar to the “Church of the Annunciation” which is very different in one respect. It is devoted to Mary mother of Jesus and has little or no references to him. A sort of a female church and very nice it is. Lots of different mosaics from different contries depicting Mary each stylized so the Japanese and the Ukrainian are as they see her so dressed and looking like one of their own. The Ecuadorians take some finding as they have joined a congregation hearing a mass which is going on and do not want to leave before it finishes, now that is faith.
Next door is the Church of Saint Joseph much smaller and supposedly built over the carpenters shop where he worked. Probably conjecture but those who want to believe can. A short walk down to return to the bus reveals an interesting position. A relative of Sal-Adin is buried close by and they want to erect a mosque however muslim law decrees the mosque should be the tallest building which would put is at odds with the Church of the Annunciation so they fight over it and have done so for a while. So not much tolerance here either.
We wind our way back to the port via mount Carmel and some great views over the town. A very modern place and somewhere which is still quite bright and new. Onto the ship and this time only 2 people are late back to the ship. I wonder if they fine people for being late. Maybe if they introduced a $100 for every 15 minute delay people would pay more attention.
We leave 40 minutes late and that is the end of the Israel part of the trip. Whilst it did nothing to confirm or restore my faith I think it is worth another try and I think I will try a return trip specifically to Jerusalem. Whilst history holds a fascination for me I am not sure we got enough time to get a real feel for the city and it has much more to offer than a 3 hour yomp through it.
Having experienced the troubles in my own back yard with Ireland I am conscious that peace can not be made at the point of a gun and trust is not easily won but that dialog is the only way. I suppose it is a question of who puts their gun down first.