Wanderlust Heaven!

My back pronounced in working order by Dr. Pardis, I sauntered out into the Cebu night.  Had dinner at El Gecko, owned by friend Mark, who’s now trying to sell the place (for about US$63,000 – interested?) and move back to the UK.  El Gecko is a nice little place, and I like the randomness of it – you never know who’ll turn up and what will be discussed at the bar.  But once in a while it’s a real downer, and tonight was that kind of night…a bunch of old bitter farts sitting around, nursing their San Miguels, comparing gripes.  One old gringo was insulting the young bargirl and Filipinos in general, calling them incompetent and lazy.  I thought about jumping in but decided it wasn’t my fight – I did make a note of the guy’s face and would tell Mark later on – he shouldn’t let scumbags like this in his place.  As for the old loser, he should watch his tongue – you never know who might come looking for you when you talk like that.

Went to another bar, Sisters, a generally fun joint.  The best thing about it now is that one of the floor manages is a clone of President Gloria Arroyo – uncanny.  Everyone calls her Gloria…

Had a beer at Sisters, then walked over to a strip of bars, all owned by a Norwegian guy – the primary bar, Viking Bar, is named in honor of his homeland.  The place is larded with bargirls and very cold, very cheap San Miguels.  I went to Erik the Red’s, and sat at the bar while one of the girls told me all about how the guy who took her virginity had stopped in that very night and had given her the cold shoulder.  I seem to have a talent (?) for eliciting these sorts of stories from strangers…and sometimes it serves me well in the business world as well.

There’s a Filipino politician named Jojo, who has reformist tendencies.  His handlers, or perhaps a journalist, has nicknamed him Jojobama.  Talk about riding coattails…

The next day an old girlfriend, Faith, came to visit.  She splits her time between Bohol, where her mother and her daughter are, and Cebu, where she works.  She had a couple days off and we spent the time together.  She’s a super-sweet woman and a lot of fun – a bit clingy, though, and after just a few minutes I knew I’d be thrilled to be free and clear a couple days hence.

I find it hard to balance everything when I’ve got company, but I decided to try to keep a fairly normal schedule.  I went running at the Cebu Sports Center, the outdoor track, and had Faith come along.  As I wrote earlier, the center has all sorts of classes and I had hoped Faith would bring some workout clothes and join in…but she didn’t, and just sat in a chair and watched me circle the track 10 or so times.  Sort of funny, but I was a bit bummed at her laziness.

We went to El Gecko that night for dinner – I had taken Faith there last night we were together, back in May 2008.  Chatted with Mark and had a good dinner.  Then we went out for some karaoke, first to K-1 in Crossroads Mall – but it was fully booked, as usual.  So we tried a new place right near my hotel, and it was excellent.  Good sound system, fully computerized, and the usual food and drink.  I really do wish you could find these places in the West, they’re incredibly fun and make for a good change of pace from the usual sitting around and drinking.

Faith is a trained singer and has a brilliant voice.  I tried my best to keep up, but mostly sat back and watched her belt out the tunes.  Very Filipino, and a lot of fun.  She’s trying to get a visa to go work in Korea as a singer – ugh.  Good money, I suppose, but a nasty lifestyle – drunken Korean geeks pawing her every night, and perhaps worse.  I might decide to try to ‘rescue’ her from that fate…

Friend Steve in Dumaguete texted me – his wife Tina was at her family’s place in Toledo, across Cebu Island.  It was Sinulog fiesta time there, and Steve urged me to go see it.  I hadn’t done much here in the way of fiestas, to my detriment, so asked Faith if she was interested, and she was.  So we left Cebu City around 3 p.m. on Sunday and took a shared minivan (a la Central Asia and other places) to Toledo, a 90-minute ride.  Got there and it was raining hard – torture.  Little cities like Toledo have crappy sewage (read:  none) so when it rains, you get little seas everywhere.  There were marching bands and all sorts of celebrations going on, but it was very messy and less fun than it could have been.

Tina found us and we hung out for a while.  Watched the bands and parades, went to a seaside café, Café Royale, and had a few beers.  Tina and her two kids are meeting Steve in Dumaguete at the end of the month, our paths might cross again there for a bit.

Tina & Steve’s daughter Noosa had really grown since I’d last seen her, in May last year.  Now she was talking and running around.  Impressive.

Tina had to put the kids to bed, so Faith and I wandered back to the school grounds to watch the finale of the fiesta.  Still raining a bit, but not too bad.  The last few acts were fun and people were definitely into it.  I should make a point of attending more of these events, I tend to avoid crowded affairs, but they can be huge fun.

Went to a seafood place called Ocean Fresh for dinner – Tina had recommended it.  Nice food – the owner/manager was a bit pushy in recommending the most pricey items, and I think she wasn’t thrilled that Faith, provincial lass that she is, only ordered garlic rice (!).  But I had ordered seafood soup for two, a plate of fish, and some vegetables, so we had lots of grub and also some wine.  I don’t like pushy restaurant people – don’t they have any degree of self-awareness?

Tina called – she and her relatives were at a videoke place right across the street.  Faith and I went over there and spent a very amusing few hours, drinking and singing with Tina and her clan.  I contributed Barry Manilow’s ‘Somewhere Down the Road,’ and did well enough…but Faith again stole the show, often stepping in to accept the mic when others flubbed the song and couldn’t go on.  I truly believe that videoke is the national sport here, although it gets lots of competition from cockfighting and various other forms of gambling.

It was now way too late to find a way back to Cebu City, so Tina took Faith and I over to a newish hotel for the night.  Got a room, which was fine…except that the bed was sagging in the middle.  And we had no drinking water…or condoms…or soap.  Found some soap in the lobby, but had to wander out into the rain to get water and ‘rainjackets.’  Post-Sinulog, the streets were pretty crowded with drunk, celebratory young men.  I definitely stood out, large and white.  Managed to get some water, and find a 24-hour dispensary that sold ‘Pinoy-style’ condoms, i.e. small, tight and perhaps not leak-proof.  But they were certainly cheap.

Wandered back to the hotel, avoiding throngs of young Pinoys who sometimes shouted to me in English.  The usual chest-beating exercises…they wanted to provoke me and see what happened, but I wasn’t about to play that game.  I just smiled, or turned my head, and plowed on, back to the hotel.  It occurred to me that it wasn’t the safest night/time of night to be out doing transactions, but then again, I couldn’t very well have sent Faith out, could I?  Or perhaps that would have made sense – at least she would have blended in far better than I managed to…

I sorely needed sleep by that point, but between Faith and the crappy bed, I didn’t get much.  We woke up around 11 a.m., I was still exhausted.  We needed to check out at noon, and I was keen to head back to Cebu and take care of a few things…and also drop off Faith.  My sense that I’d be craving total freedom by this point was 100% accurate.  We took a van back to the city, I sent her back to her place, while I returned to Casa Rosario to do a few things and prepare for a work-related call I’d have that night.

Checked email – saw that BootsnAll, my blog hosting site, published my West Bank story on their travel website.  I had submitted it a couple weeks ago, and really had simply cut it out of my blog post with very little editing.  They did some editing, mostly benign and related to look and feel, but also some annoying bits where they stuck in  exclamation points to make it more assertive, but actually less accurate.  Oh well.  Here it is, check it out:

http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/09-01/upside-down-west-bank-palestine-israel-middle-east.html

It was simultaneously the start of Chinese New Year, Australia National Day, and India Republic Day.  Lots of celebrating Aussies in town…didn’t see that many Indians…and the large hotels and Taoist Temples were presumably busy with the local Chinoys and visiting Chinese.  Random.

Went for a run at the track.  Had a couple work-related calls.  Went out for a bite and a beer.  At Lone Star Bar, the Aussie owner had laid out vegemite-and-cheese sandwiches.  They weren’t all that bad…I’m in no way a fan of vegemite, but I’ve eaten much worse.

Went back to Erik the Red Bar – ran into Mark from El Gecko there.  Small city, really.

Next morning, got up, checked out, and caught a bus to Dumaguete, my Filipino home away from home.  The Cebu South Bus Terminal is a disorganized, chaotic place with no formal ticket window or such – you just find your bus and pay on board.  Works fine.  The bus heads across the island, gets on a ferry to Negros Island, and continues on to Dumaguete.  Five hours, pretty smooth.  At the start of the trip, I was exchanging smiles with a funny middle-aged Filipina who was transporting a rooster in a wooden box.  Not sure what she was smiling about…perhaps she sensed that I thought carrying a rooster in a box might be an absurd concept.  But I’ve seen much worse…

The ride was pleasant, bus wasn’t full and the views of the provinces were stunning.  And the ferry ride was also terrific – the views across to Negros are post-card perfect, like many RP islands Negros is volcanic and mountainous.  And super-lush, they get lots of rain here.

Got to Dumaguete, and checked in Plaza Maria Luisa, the place where my computer was ruined by water back in May 2007.  I’d been back to Dumaguete several times since, but had avoided this place and had instead stayed with Steve in Dauin.  But Steve’s house was being renovated and he also had some tenants there, so I stayed in town – no problem, I like being in the city.  And I decided not to hold a grudge any longer against the hotel, and to give it another chance.  Of course, I’d not be storing anything with them, just renting a room for 3 nights…

Most of the same staff was still there – I’d kind of hoped for a fresh slate of people, but no.  I’d called and made a booking, so they were expecting me.  It was a bit awkward, but not too bad.  Last time I’d seen these folks, we’d had a tense time – they’d destroyed my computer (accidentally, of course) and I had been angry.  Anyway, that was almost two years ago, and we all seemed able to just put on a light smile and forget about it.

The hotel was about the same, good enough for a few nights.  One of these years I should try another place, but this hotel has a great location and the price is right.

Went for a walk.  Read a bit.  Went for a run along the beautiful seaside boulevard.  Met Steve, who’d checked into the hotel, in the lobby, and we walked to Mike’s diveshop to track him down.  He was there, we sat and caught up over beers.  Told them about my travels over the past 9-10 months.  Mike asked me a good question, which was where in the world could I do what I was doing now, that is sitting with some friends on the waterfront having a few beers?  Not that many places, to be honest – I named a few, in Australia, in California, in Spain.  Of course, I travel for a range of experiences, not just to sit with friends on the seaside drinking – but still, his question was a good one, and I think aimed at getting me to spend more time in Dumaguete.  Mike’s a good guy – gruff and cranky at times, but he’s very bright and has a good heart.  And every time I come to Dumaguete, I grow a bit more attached to the place…

Hit a few bars with Steve that night.  Steve doesn’t drink (any more), but he’s still a fun guy to sit and talk to.  Went to Garaje, a college bar that doesn’t lack for hotties.  Steve’s married but is quite happy to test his eyesight on the local talent, as am I.

Went diving with Steve at his place the next day.  We hung out for the entire day, in typical Steve fashion packed with errands and transactions.  Didn’t actually get to the diving till nearly 1 p.m…before then, he was buying a raft of TVs and laptops over the phone and having them shipped over here, supervising the building of his guesthouse, which is really coming along, and going through his inventory of dive equipment.  Steve’s happiest when he’s busiest, unlike me – he doesn’t seem to read much, he’s just someone who does things all day long.

Good dive – saw a giant turtle eating behind a coral escarpment, and a plain of little moray eels who went back down their holes when we approached.  A lot like the Eel Garden dive spot in Dahab, Egypt – I hadn’t seen something like this in the Philippines before.  And it’s mere meters from the beach in front of Steve’s hacienda…

Steve’s guesthouse – was supposed to have been completed last summer, but it’s still in process.  Here it is, check out the equine motifs on the thatched roof – nice touch:

He already rented out the 3 apartments for an entire year, and got the cash up-front.  Helpful for him, as he’s lost a shitload in the markets.  The rents won’t be a huge amount of cash, but every little bit helps these days.  Cash is king, emperor, and god in 2009…

Two of Steve’s helpers, who are married, are leaving soon.  The woman sort of lost it after giving birth a few months ago, and has actually attacked other helpers – seems she thinks her hubbie is fooling around with them.  Zero proof of that – I think it’s just post-partum depression or the like.  She was so timid and quiet when I met her last year – hard to imagine her flipping her lid.  Anyway, Steve’s got a good heart – he paid for the birth of their child, and he’s giving them a chunk of change as a going-away gift.  Not many bosses as nice as Steve, many/most of the people who have helpers treat them like crap.  Westerners tend to be better than locals, or other Asians, but you hear stories about nearly everyone…

After diving Steve had a call, had to send some emails, and we finally went to Bahura Resort and had lunch at 3 p.m.  Steve gave the diveshop there some stuff to repair.  Lunch was pretty good…afterward I was completely fried.  I wanted nothing more than to return to the city and snooze for a while – my throat was sore and during the dive I’d had trouble equalizing.  Seemed that I was coming down with something, and that I shouldn’t dive any more this week.

Steve got a call from his Japanese buddy, Naga, so we went to Naga’s place.  Naga wanted to see if Steve was interested in buying a vacant lot next to Naga’s little house, and perhaps Naga’s house too – then he could combine the properties.  But Steve’s got enough real estate, and not much cash these days (get in line), so he declined.  One thing I don’t love about Dumaguete is that all the expats here seem to be infatuated with property – they can sit for hours and discuss transactions, units, etc.  So boring, and materialistic – you never hear anyone talking about a good book they read, or about politics, etc.

Finally got back to the city and slept a bit.  Then tried to exercise, but my sore throat and general level of exhaustion torpedoed that.  Between Steve and Mike I always feel a bit busy and under the gun while here…perhaps that’s why I only stay for a few days, then retreat to Cebu where I can hide out more easily.

Stopped in Coco Amigos, had a beer and listened to the band for a while.  This is the place where I got up and watched the most recent World Cup (2006) at 3 a.m.  I clearly recall Zidane’s head-butt around 4:30 a.m. or so…

Met up with the boys at the diveshop at 10 p.m.  Had a few beers, then Steve and I went to check out Reggae Night at Hayahay – which was pretty weak, for some reason.  So we went to old standby Why Not Disco, where we blended right into the odd mix of horny expats and drunk locals.  This place is truly classic – a little slice of Filipino mayhem right on the Dumaguete boulevard.  Steve didn’t stay long – he doesn’t drink, and is married, so the two primary reasons for being at the disco are null.  I stayed, for precisely the opposite reasons.  And wound up meeting a nice young lass who agreed to hang out with me the rest of the evening – such fantastic iniquity here.

Woke up today, sore throat not any better – not surprising, given my hedonistic lifestyle lately.  Mike had recommended an elderly Filipino doc named Napoleon Oracion at Holy Child Hospital – how could I not go see the guy?  Went over there and saw him – I’ve got a minor throat infection and he prescribed an antibiotic for a few days.  No big deal.  In and out, and I already have the right kind of medicine from my most recent India trip, when I stocked up on various meds.  I should be right in a few days, although no diving trip to Apo Island for me today.  Oh well – will rest and try to behave myself – not an easy proposition in this country.  Perhaps I should get me to a nunnery.  Or something like that.

Will head back to Cebu for Friday night, then go to the little Luzon seaside town of Donsol over the weekend to snorkel with whale sharks.  It’s apparently a transcendent experience, one that I’ve wanted to try for years now.  I’ll tell you all about it next week.  Over and out.

Had dinner with Japanese friend Hira, who’s retired and has lived in Chiang Mai for nearly 10 years.  He was recently in Japan, to see his elderly parents – I asked him how his trip went, and he told me that Japan depresses him, because there are so many old people and so few young these days.  He has a point there – Japan is getting old fast, and needs to make some moves to ensure that its population doesn’t drop precipitously.

We talked about why we like countries like Thailand and some of its ‘developing country’ brethren.  The exoticism is an obvious draw…these countries are so different from the West that they’re instantly appealing.  I also like the human ingenuity on display here – Asians aren’t prima donas, they work their way through their problems in a creative and resourceful manner.  I also like the WYSIWYG nature of these places – sure, there’s lots you aren’t privy to, but when you walk down a gritty Bangkok or Manila street, well, the street is pretty much a reflection of the human soul and spirit, in a way that a posh high street is not.  A dirty 3^rd-world street is a relatively honest place.

Hira is over 60 years old, so after dinner he went back to his place and I went out.  The Night Market area, on Loi Kroh Street, is where you’ll find a collection of nightspots.  I went into a club called StarSix, where they played a random selection of music, ranging from the theme to Dreamgirls all the way to Highway Star by Deep Purple.  They also had a faux S&M show involving hot dripping wax, set to Highway Star.  Methinks Ritchie Blackmore and the boys would appreciate that…

Afterward, walked over to No. 1 Bar, an old fave that’s a bit less fun now, for some reason.  Started walking back to the guesthouse, was enticed into a small bar en route for a drink.  Saw a food vendor outside and got a few skewers of chicken – there was a chili on one of the skewers, and it nearly did me in.   I can take almost any type of pepper, but this must have been either a GM product, or an aberrant natural one.  I could hardly breathe, nearly puked, and wound up getting a Coke to calm my throat.  A good Indian lassi would have been better, but this is Thailand…

After recovering I walked home.  There was an elephant being taken round, with the usual donation requests – I had to dodge it to get down the street.

Noticed in my alma mater’s quarterly magazine (now thrice-yearly, due to economic conditions) that there were blurbs on two of my old friends, one of whom covered the Red Sox for the Boston Herald and just jumped to the Boston Globe.  Interesting.

Next morning, had a call with a former colleague who’s a key player in the Mumbai group I might join.  That went well – found out that he was posted in Johannesburg in 1997-8, and left just a few months before I got down there.  He’s now in D.C. and I’ll probably see him in Boston in February…

Have done approximately zero sight-seeing here in Thailand, as expected.  And I’ve only taken one or two photos, which I won’t bother to post here.  I’m just hanging around, doing a bit of work and networking, and recovering from the demands of Israel.  Refreshing.

Went to the U.N. Irish Bar that night.  Saw a super-cute local girl at the bar, exchanged smiles (or so I thought), and after a half-hour or so I asked the waitress to send a drink over to her.  She seemed surprised, but did order the drink…after that, I think she was embarrassed and my plan fizzled.  These maneuvers tend to be risky, but I hated the thought of leaving the bar without making any move at all.  Not sure whether my move violated cultural norms, or whether I’m just ugly…

It’s all Thai sanuk (having fun), anyway…

Had an early morning flight back to Bangkok…got up at dawn and packed.  Got a tuk-tuk to the airport, en route saw a number of orange-robed monks walking around with their alms bowls, and I noticed a sizeable street market near the city moat selling food and flowers.  Much like scuba diving at night, when you get up at dawn you see an entirely different ecosystem.

Noticed in my dayplanner (yes, I still use one) that it was the third anniversary of my final formal day of employment (when unused vacation time was factored in) at my old job.  Yowza.  I think this streak will end pretty soon…and in fact, as I’ve been helping out on a project proposal, it in some ways has.

Got an email from friend Harsh – turns out he’d be in Bangkok that very day.  Made plans to catch up over drinks that afternoon.

Did you know that Darwin and Lincoln were born the same day?  Fascinating.  Certainly one of the more momentous birthdays in history…I can think of a flipside analogy: July 4, 1826, when Jefferson and Adams both died.

Tried to find the medical clinic at Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok, but I somehow passed it and then was on the outside.  Vowed to come back early the next morning, before my flight to Manila, and finally get the damned yellow fever vaccine.  Wasn’t that thrilled to get the actual shot though…my arms had hardly recovered from the pain suffered from the 3 shots I’d had a few days before.

Got to VP Towers, checked in, and saw Bob for a few minutes.  Did a few things, took a nap, and went to meet Harsh in the Erawan section of town.  Was searching for  a web café, but instead found a large British India store inside the renovated Central World Mall.  Perused the goods and bought a nice shirt, replacing the one mangled in a recent laundry misadventure.   Total time in store – 11 minutes.  I love it.

Met Harsh at the Erawan Hyatt, where he was staying.  Haven’t spent much time in 5-star hotels lately, this was a nice change.  We met in the lobby and then walked over to a Heineken outdoor beergarden, where we talked for an hour or so.  Good to catch up with Harsh, despite some of our topics – he recently moved from Bangalore to Boston and his accounts of the brutal winter and the grim economy didn’t cheer me that much.

Back to VP Tower.  Met up with Bob and his girlfriend Kate, who took me to the outskirts of Bangkok, to a huge club that was part brew/gastropub, part live music spot.  Lots of Thai families were here, eating, drinking, listening to music, and enjoying the last gasp of the weekend (it was Sunday night).  We ordered a 3-liter ‘beer tower’ and some terrific fish.  Kate, who’s Thai, took good care of us, and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.  Not the type of place you see many farangs (foreigners), although, like most places in Thailand these days, we saw some.  Still, a very real and local experience, not one you could glean from your Lonely Planet guidebook.

We finished up with a nuclear tom yum gai (spicy chicken soup) that was positively nuclear.  Even Kate was sweating and questioning her mortality.  I’ve always said that Indian food is way spicier than Thai, but I guess that doesn’t always hold.

Got a few hours sleep, then back to the airport.  Saw that my flight was delayed – wasn’t sure if they had changed the regularly scheduled time of the flight or if it was a one-off delay.  I should be better about checking online before heading to the airport, particularly for flights booked far in advance.  The airline sometimes emails you if they change the time, but not always, particularly if it’s a partner airline.

Used the extra time to track down the medical clinic and get my yellow fever vaccine.  My previous one was from Joburg in January 1999, and was due to become invalid in 3 more days.  It was a pain to find the clinic, but once I did it was just about US$15 for the shot, which took all of 3 minutes.  Check.

Walked by a large Jim Thompson silk shop en route to my gate.  Was starting to feel a bit crappy – was it the shot?  The lack of sleep?  The food and drink from last night?  I wasn’t looking forward to the 3-hour flight, but steeled myself and soldiered on.

And the flight to Manila was smooth.  The best thing?  I had no seatmates, and the seats themselves were Recaro brand – I’d only seen these seats in high-end sports cars, never in planes.  My seat was so comfortable, and spacious, even in cattle class, that I settled right in and soon I was feeling much better.  I guess I wasn’t having a reaction to the shot…

Read the Thai Airways inflight mag.  There was an Incredible India ad in there, and randomly enough a former yoga teacher of mine in Goa was featured.  Julie Martin, from Brahmani Yoga in Anjuna.  I didn’t find her classes as stellar as those taught by my teacher in Tokyo, Leza Lowitz…admittedly my standards are pretty high.  Anyway, I soon shifted to mostly practicing on my own, but it was still cool to see Julie featured in there.

Landed at Aquino Airport.  Got off the plane – and was hit with a gust of hot air.  Manila was much warmer than Bangkok.  No problem.  Got my bag, got a taxi into town.  They have a new meter taxi system, significantly cheaper than the prepaid taxi service.   Listened to the radio and talked with the driver – a few golden oldies came on during the half-hour drive.  ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’ was one of them…I like this song but can’t find it on iTunes.  Maybe I have the title wrong, might be ‘Dreams’ and not ‘Head.’  Anyone?

Got to my hotel, Citadel Inn, right in Manila’s heart of darkness, P. Burgos Street.  I’ve written of this place in old posts so won’t elaborate here.  Suffice it to say that it’s a lively and crazed area.  Noticed quickly that an old favorite, Café Mogambo, was gone.  Wasn’t surprised – the place was managed into the ground and it had gotten progressively less fun over the years.  But I had fond memories of going there with friends Eric and Abbie and playing jenga with the barstaff there years ago.

I love Filipinos.  Everyone says hello to you on the street.

Went out fairly hard that night, something in the air here.  But I behaved and got to bed before the sun came up.

Checked email the next morning – to my dismay I got an email from friend Kathy, an old pal from my Lake Sunapee (New Hampshire) days.  Her mom had passed away unexpectedly and Kathy was understandably badly shaken by this.  She had helped me when my mom died years ago, I replied to her email and also made a note to call her that night at a decent hour.

Manila is a great shopping town, and I was in sore need of some fresh stuff, so hit a few malls.  One, Powerhouse Mall, is one that’s nearby Makati City, where I was staying.  I’d gone running (literally) around this mall several times, but never thought to go in, I had a few go-to malls already.  But I heard that some of my fave shops – British India, Zara, Marks & Spencer – were all in this mall, and given the proximity I decided to check it out.  And it was excellent – I got nearly everything I needed there, with only a quick trip to the Glorietta branch of British India for a final t-shirt.  No need to go to the distant (but impressive) SM Mall of Asia – saved a couple hours right there.  And much of what I bought was marked down – I was getting shirts for US$10-15.  Not sure what that says about my fashion tastes…

Noticed a Max Brenner chocolate shop/bar at Greenbelt Mall, where I meandered towards the end of the day.  Max Brenner’s an Israeli chain – you don’t see that many of its stores, and Manila’s probably not an intuitive place to find one.  But Manila surprises you – it’s malls are sophisticated and there’s a reason why Hong Kongers are happy to jump on a plane here.

Took a cab that night to Malate, dinner with former colleague Vince.  Last time we’d seen each other was at my 40^th birthday party, at Ciboney Bar nearby.  Ciboney was now closed, and had become a godless Offtrack Betting parlor.  Ugh.  Met Vince this time at Casa Armas, my standby Spanish joint in Manila.  Was glad to see the maitre d’, Jun, still there – it’s a timeless place and he’s such a friendly fellow.  Had a great time – Vince is a terrific guy, we traded gossip and news, and ate tapas and paella, with a few beers and a pitcher of sangria.  I don’t think the RP has drunk-driving laws, but Vince did leave most of the sangria to me, he was driving.

I was hoping to run into Jaime, a Spaniard I’d met last May, my previous visit here.  But he wasn’t at the bar, his usual hangout.  Anyway, I might come back to Casa Armas before flying out of Manila in early Feb.

Watched hours and hours of the Obama Inauguration that night and early morning.  Was more than pleased to see the last (one hopes) of Laura Bush’s medicated smile…and Bush’s apelike facial expressions.  So ignorant, these two, so small, and yet so much damage caused.  Please, America – never again.

Huge crowds on the National Mall.  They wheeled Dick Cheney out in a chair – he hurt his back moving his crap.  Nice metaphor.  I think he’ll be dead in a year.

This might have been a defining moment in my lifetime.  This needs to work, Obama needs to come through.  I don’t want to see a world where China’s the dominant power – even in its depths (i.e., the past 8 years), the U.S. is generally an admirable, well-intentioned land.  Let’s get back there, folks.

My mother would have loved this event.

I sighed when Obama took the oath, even though the Chief Justice flubbed the wording.  Later I heard that they had to do it a second time at the White House.  Leave it to the Republicans to screw up a 35-word ceremony.  Hopefully this isn’t one of those key steps on the way to becoming a banana republic…

At least now Bush would no longer have the power to order an Iran attack.

Took a break from the endless coverage to visit Bandidos bar, where I played a couple rounds of jenga and beat the bargirls there.  One was pretty good, but I pulled a move from the heavens and won by a hair.

Got up the next day and switched the news back on.  The time diff with the East Coast was 13 hours, so the Obamas were still cycling through the 10 balls.  A bit repetitive, but hey, Michelle Obama’s a fox and I’m happy to see her 10 times.

Read a few magazines and did a bit of work prep.  Took a brief nap, went for a good run, then headed out to Fort Bonifacio to meet friend Bettina for dinner.  We met at Barcino, a very nice Spanish place.  Had an enjoyable dinner, talked with Bettina and her friend about diving…Israel…U.S. politics…and, of course, Spanish wine and food.  Walked out of there feeling like a burgermeister…

Next morning, headed to the airport to fly to Cebu.  The cabbie didn’t want to use his meter.  I asked how much…he said 600 pesos.  I told him to stop the cab and let me out.  I had a hangover and didn’t feel like negotiating with a rip-off artist.  That figure was simply insulting, it should cost 200.  I got him down to that swiftly and we drove on.  I think he felt pretty damn sheepish about trying to screw me – but I was happy I had been strident, I just despise cabbies who try to get away with stunts like that.

Got into Cebu, one of my favorite cities.  Had missed the Sinulog festival by a few days.  Really need to come to town for that one of these years, they celebrate the city’s patron saint, the Santo Nino (baby Jesus), the icon for which was brought here by Magellan and his men (I think).

Very hot here, hotter than Manila.  But I can take it.

Checked into Casa Rosario, a great little pension right near Osmena Fountain, in the heart of the city.  Same welcoming people there.

Traded texts with a former girlfriend, Faith, who I’d be seeing here at some point.  When I’m in the RP I always feel relatively popular…

Had a bit of work to do, primarily a phone call with a former client.  He didn’t ring at the appointed hour, so I had to leave my hotel room and take my notes and pen with me around town while I took care of errands.  I think returning to work will be hardest for me in terms of process – I’m an organized guy and dislike daily surprises and disruptions.  I can deal with ‘em, but prefer people to have their shit together and do what they say.  The content will not pose a problem, at least I think it won’t – I like getting into the content and am quite good at interpreting data and telling stories.

Got a call from friend Steve in Dumaguete.  I’ll go visit him in a few days and go diving there.  Should be a nice stint.  Dumaguete is such a cool little place.

Went for a run at the outdoors sports center.  Even at 7 p.m. it was 28 Celsius, the run was good but hard.  I need to get more sleep, really.

At the sports center there are all manner of classes – aerobics, dancing, etc.  You see little kids learning to do the major dances, and they’re already pretty good.  No wonder Filipinos are so good at singing and dancing – they get an early start at places like these, which are for the general public and cheap as chips.  My track entry fee is about US$0.30.

Showered and went out.  Client still hadn’t called – oh well, I can’t control everything.  I had called him at 2 p.m. on Skype and spoken with him, but he was running out and promised to call back at 5 p.m., which hadn’t happened.  I can be a real control freak, but decided not to worry about it…things would play out and we’d speak at some point.  Had dinner at the outdoors Larsian BBQ area, which is basically a square area lined with competing BBQ vendors.  Had a nice chunk of blue marlin, some chicken, and pork skewers.  Total bill:  164 pesos, or US$3.50.  Then did a round of bar-hopping, stayed out fairly late, and turned it.  Normal night in Cebu City, the Queen (or Pearl) of the South.

Will go to see Dr. Pardis, the chiropractor here, later today.  Dr. P has helped me immeasurably and whenever I’m in Cebu I go see him.  Back is currently fine, but who knows what’s brewing – I am a big believer in preventative medicine.

I’ll stop here.  Enjoy your week, watch Obama’s progress, and see you later.  Over and out.

OK, this week’s entry will be relatively short – I’m out of Israel, I have no new photos this week, and I have a hell of a headache from Thai nightlife…

My final night in Israel was solid, despite having to put in another night at Hotel Eilat – which I visually confirmed to be a no-tell motel.  My head was still spinning from my West Bank trip, but getting to Tel Aviv put some distance between me and the mayhem there…and Tel Aviv is mentally a world away.  Was hoping to meet up with Turkish friends Erol and Banu, and we were texting throughout the early evening to set something up – then I got a text saying that Banu (who’s pregnant) was violently ill and they were returning home, to the ‘burbs.  Oh well.  I had another lead, a friend of old friend Charles’s – they had been partners in a startup years ago to bring Au Bon Pain to Israel.  We made dinner plans.

Yaron and his (also pregnant – what is it about Israel?) wife came to get me at Hotel Eilat around 9 p.m.  They’re lots of fun – both switched-on, both studied and worked in the States for years.  Emblematic of a fairly large contingent of Israel-USA dual citizenship folks.  Yaron runs a chain of fitness centers and his wife, who’s an electrical engineer who used to work for Digital Computer in Boston, takes care of their 3 kids, soon to be 4.  They took me to Sushisamba, a fusion place that was very good – I hadn’t had sushi in perhaps 6 months, and that was a welcome change from bread, meat and cheese.  They also had umeshu (plum wine) and a few brands of sake, so we tried those and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.  Was happy that Charles introduced me to them – I still wonder why my set of contacts in Israel is so sparse.

Much warmer in Tel Aviv – had gone for a pretty good run along the beach before dinner.  Was too tired to make it all the way to Jaffa, but at least put in a good showing.  The ensuing two days would be all travel, with no time for exercise.

Read a bit about the new Palm Pre, the successor to the Treo – about fucking time.  Will try to check this out when back in Boston in a few weeks – my own Treo 680 is less than a year old, and serves the purpose, but at some point I’ll want something a bit more fresh and sexy.  iPhone, Pre, Nokia E71 – those are the three products I’ve got in mind right now.  The Pre has a charger that’s wireless, you just put the Pre on top of it.  Great idea – I think more products will use something like this in the near uture.

After dinner, walked to Mike’s Bar, where I’d spent my first night in TA two or so weeks earlier.  Someone had told me that Mike’s had been attacked by two suicide bombers a few years ago – hadn’t know that.  Apparently the two guys were amateurs (understandable – in that field you don’t really get a chance to become a professional, huh?) and didn’t do much damage, one blew himself up outside when he was challenged by a guard, the other ran into the Mediterranean and drowned.  I need to find this story online, would be a good read.

Became friendly with a Russian-Israeli computer geek named Boris, with whom I practiced a bit of Russian.  Then we started bantering with a cute Latvian seated near us – Boris spoke to her in Russian while I tried to get in a few words.  Seems she was ‘working,’ and we soon lost interest.  Around 2 a.m. I wandered back to the hotel and went to my room.  The bathroom was in the hall, I brushed my teeth and then went back in my room.  I didn’t see my room key anywhere and wondered where it was.  After searching everywhere, for a good half hour or so (not fun when drunk), I pulled up the mattress and the keys fell out.  I wonder how they got under there, seemed to violate the laws of physics – although said laws can get bent by alcohol…

Next day was Saturday, Shabbat, and the city was quiet.  Beautiful day – I went out for a coffee, walked along the beach for an hour, then returned to the hotel to check out and do some computer stuff.  Cleared most of my emails, made some Thailand and Philippines travel bookings, and got rid of most of the junk on my computer desktop.  I have a feeling that a cluttered desktop slows down the startup speed…let’s see how it is now.

A friend sent me a website called Most Traveled People, it was created by a classmate of hers who appears to be just about the world’s most traveled person.  The site spells out over 750 countries, territories, and other distinctions, and when you create an account you then check off the places you’ve visited.  Quite cool – you can look at a world map with your visited places colored in, and you get ranked vs. other members.  Right now I’m at something like 150 places visited, and am ranked #610.  Humbling…a lot like Technocrati.com telling me that I’m the world’s 4 millionth-ranked blogger…anyway, check out this site, it’s terrific.

Got a random email from Nico, the Dutchman I’d met on the trip from Cairo to St. Katherine’s Monastery.  We’d had a bizarre and fun time hanging out, and our climb up Mt. Sinai (which commenced with a climb up the wrong slop) is something I won’t soon forget.  Nico wrote that he stayed at St. K’s for a few days and was able to review some pretty old and rare manuscripts kept there, he became friendly with an American priest who hooked him up.  He also invited me to visit him in Mozambique, but is leaving there for Holland in July so I’d better move fast.  Let’s see…

Headed to Ben-Gurion Airport.  Had a round-the-world flight itinerary, made using frequent-flier points, that was taking me to Bangkok via Istanbul, where I’d lay over that night.  Had to take a cab to the airport, on Shabbat there are no public buses, and no sheruts (minivans) run to the airport.  Ugh.  These are the sorts of things that bust a budget, but what can you do?

Security at the airport was predictably high, but not overwhelming.  When I went to have my large pack X-rayed, a female guard gave me the third degree – asking me some fairly obscure questions about where I studied Hebrew, about my cousin who now lives in Jerusalem, etc.  I guess there’s a method to their madness…and I guess my profile is odd, my passport is enormous, I have no fixed address, etc.  Anyway, she went to chat with her supervisor, and eventually I got waved on.  Otherwise, not a hassle – they X-ray your stuff once and the worker actually pays attention.  A nice contrast from, say, India or the Philippines, where they seem to do everything between 2 and 5 times.  Do it once, the right way, and let us be…

En route to my gate there was a long wall with posters from each year of the country’s existence.  The early posters were largely dedicated to independence and the birth of the country, later posters more to education, industry, sports, and tourism.  Different artists got picked each year to do the posters – a well-executed and moving tribute to Israel.  You can, undoubtedly, find the set of posters somewhere online…

While waiting for my flight to Istanbul I perused the Departures board.  I love doing this, you see some obscure and tantalizing destinations.  This time I saw the random set of Kaliningrad, Addis Ababa, and Newark.  Made sense to me – might be some kabbalistic interpretation to be made here…

Also spent some time thinking back to what I’d seen in Israel, and particularly to my West Bank trip.  Many of my long-held beliefs were crumbling, and I was OK with that.  Traveling is foremost an educational experience and if I wasn’t challenging myself, this would all be a waste.  I wondered how culpable I should feel in the oppression of Palestinians and their hard lives…and while I didn’t come up with an eloquent answer, I was able to tell myself, reasonably, that there can be some crawl space between being Jewish and being Israeli.  I hope that’s not a cop-out – after all, I’m not doing anything more to ease Palestinian conditions than visiting their cities and blogging about it.  I would be very unhappy if donations I’ve made to Israel in the past were used to mistreat Palestinians…no idea if they were.  I think this is an internal struggle I’ll work through over time – as I wrote last week, I truly hope someone/something emerges to break the cycle of hatred and violence and changes this ugly game.

Met a nice American woman who teaches English in The Hague.  She also faced the overnight layover in Istanbul, and we traded some ideas for how to get through the hours.  She’ll be back in Israel before long so I gave her my Lonely Planet guidebook…better than tossing it in the bin.

Flew to Istanbul without a hitch.  The airport was surprisingly busy for 10 p.m. or so, Istanbul is a major hub for Europe-Asia flights so that was the reason.  After wandering around for a while, found a lounge that I could pay to enter and spend the night.  Didn’t make sense to go into Istanbul, wasn’t enough time for that…and the airport hotel was a brutal 210 Euros a night.  Not worth it.  The lounge was $45 and had beer, food, comfortable seats, and power outlets.  I had a few beers, a few plates of food, printed out some e-tickets, read, and watched some DVDs.  Probably would have spent $30-$40 outside the lounge on these things, so it made economic sense.

The American teacher showed up there too.  We both sat around reading, eating, drinking beer, and watching movies on our respective laptops all night.  The layover was about 8-9 hours, I did manage an hour of sleep near the end of that, had set my mobile’s alarm just to be sure.  Long night, but could have been worse.  I was pretty knackered when I got on my flight to Bangkok…

Finished a couple Economists, and realized that for the first time in memory, I was without any books/guidebooks, or magazines to read.  I would be getting my US mail when in Bangkok, and would be loaded up again with reading material…but for now it was actually refreshing.  I had a couple DVDs I could watch…there were also newspapers to be had, so I wouldn’t just sit and stare.  And my load was noticeably lighter – having a ream of books and mags is a pain when you’re moving around.

One DVD I got around to watching was Sicko, by Michael Moore.  I’ve been meaning to watch this for a long time.  What a depressing movie.  Admittedly one-sided and over-the-top (I don’t think the Cuban healthcare system is better than ours, or any sort of paradise), but not so far off the mark.  And besides the predictable charges leveled at the US healthcare system, the larger social analyses were pretty compelling.  As I’ve written, I don’t come easily to conspiracy theories, but I do wonder sometimes about hands behind the puppets – for example, are there people/entities that benefit from the status quo, wherein American workers rarely strike, only get 2 weeks of vacation a year, don’t get much in the way of maternity leave and daycare, and, perhaps most prominently, depend on their employer for healthcare and are often stuck in a shit job?  There are certainly policies that get implemented that dramatically favor one or more interest group – the Medicare drug benefits package that got passed a few years ago seems to be a huge giveaway to the pharma industry, for instance.  I realize that Congress’s debates and actions are on the record, but the presence of so much lobbying and money going around makes me wonder who really benefits from bills like this one.

And whatever the situation is with ‘hidden hands,’ I’m fairly well convinced that some societies have done a much better job balancing their competing interests.  France seems to be able to deliver good healthcare at a reasonable cost, provide daycare for nearly free, not force university students to shell out ridiculous sums, etc.  Sure, they don’t eat crappy American fast-food (well, less than we do, anyway), they have a lower military burden, and they pay higher taxes…but their quality of life seems much higher.  I think I’d rather make 80% of the American salary, pay 45% taxes (as opposed to 35%), and have a lower level of discretionary income, and in return get more holidays, have my healthcare and children’s university bills be taken care of, be able to switch jobs at will, etc.  Tufts University, my alma mater, now costs $45K/year.  Incredible.  They have a beautiful new arts center, sports center, and language center…big deal.  $200K for a 4-year education for one student – yowza.  I think I’m not joining this game (or scam) and putting my head down and working for 40 years…

I think Americans aren’t, generally, demanding customers.  They make do with mediocre food (albeit at very cheap prices), they get little holiday, everything is out-of-pocket, etc.  Japanese and Europeans are much fussier consumers.  And part of the problem is, IMHO, dogma – Americans have been warned about the dangers of ‘socialism’ for so long (communism is about dead, most would admit) that if a politician talks about raising taxes and offering more benefits, well then they’re a ‘socialist.’  Forget for a moment about collapsing bridges and crappy infrastructure – much more important to worry about avoiding socialism and ‘wealth distribution.’  Never mind that we already have Social Security, Medicare, huge military expenditures, and, of course, the current mess in which the federal gov is saving a bunch of companies.  To Americans, government is bad.  How weird…

Sicko had an interesting quote about Euro governments being afraid of their citizens, who are much more prone to strike and protest than Americans are.  I haven’t seen any data on this, but having spent a fair amount of time in Europe, it rings true.  It’s annoying to be screwed when there’s a transport or rubbish-haulers strike, but at the same time it seems to bring results, and allows the people to vent.  Americans, except for the occasional anti-Iraq War march, seem a bit cowed and/or apathetic.  I certainly think if the French were given our package of goods – higher salaries, lower taxes, and lower level of benefits – they’d have a shit fit.  It’s amazing that America is still trying to figure out the healthcare thing…the Euros figured it out 50 years ago.  ‘Nuff said – reactions welcomed.

Between thinking about this sort of thing, and recalling my day in Hebron, I was becoming a bit depressed about the world.  Good thing I was moving on to Thailand, an admittedly corrupt and poor place where, still, people seem pretty happy,  and they probably understand the real situation better than most.

My last trip to Thailand was way back in October 2007 – quite a while by my standards.  Was happy to be back, Thailand is a much less heavy place than the Middle East and I was looking forward to decompressing.  It’s also significantly cheaper across the board.  My room, in the building where friend Bob now stays, is less than $30/night, and is huge.  I couldn’t decide where to spread out my yoga mat.  That’s rarely a problem.  And the street food – little reason to go to a formal resto here.  You can get a plate of food for less than 50 cents.  No wonder Bob likes it so much – I think he spends less than $1K per month.  I was spending more than that every few days in Israel…

Got to VP Tower around 11 p.m.  Bob was waiting for me…he had some beers in his room, it was an election day and the authorities had banned booze sales.  Oh well.  We sat around and caught up for a while, then went out for a walk.  I bought a local SIM card, which offers web access – ah, the ease of this place!

Drank till around 3 a.m.  I never seem to go to sleep early in Thailand – the place encourages late nights and late mornings.  Slept in till nearly 11 the next morning – rare for me, but I’d had a night without much sleep and I’m not 25 years old anymore.

Got up and did some errands.  Got a moto taxi to Porntip Plaza, where they sell lots of DVDs.  Bought a bunch.  Walked out to get some lunch, saw a kid playing with a Rubik’s Cube (knockoff version).  Hadn’t seen one of those in years.

Went next to Siam Paragon, the high-end mall, where I found a Zara shop.  I wrote a couple weeks ago that my clothes are getting ratty, I need a few new items.  Got a couple shirts and a belt in Zara for US$67.  Very copacetic.  Walked around a few other shops, tried on a shirt in the department store, didn’t take it but managed to leave behind my shades.  Realized I’d done so an hour later, boogied back to the store and the fellow had actually found and saved the glasses.  Whew – would not have been happy to lose those $140 shades, that would pretty much blow my good-value experience that day out of the water.  It’s the stupid expenses like that which can really nail you.

A strange Thai woman was calling me all afternoon.  Here they recycle #s all the time, I guess my new mobile # was previously owned by her friend, or something like that.  I finally got rid of her.

Went to the park on Soi Rangnam with Bob for a run.  This park really makes the ‘hood – it’s spacious and clean, and perfect for a run.  Had a good jaunt, 4 times around the track.  Then went back to VP Tower and called Dad, it was his 67^th birthday and we talked for a while.  My sis was making him dinner that night, he sounded in good spirits.

Bob and I headed out to Water Bar, one of my favorite drinking holes around the planet.  Met Bob’s friends Jan and Sue there – they got married about a year or so ago, congratulated them and we all had a lot of beer, whiskey, and very nice Thai food (ostrich dish not to be missed) over the next few hours.  Jan is an enthusiastic imbiber, he’s often here (and everywhere else).  Turns out he was here when 9-11 was unfolding, soon after the bar opened for business, and sat there drinking and watching the tube.  Water Bar recently expanded and bought out the café next door – shitty timing, the bar used to always be packed, now it feels almost empty – a combination of the extra space and the crap economy.  I hope it gets through this period OK…a great bar closing down is almost like a death.

Got up the next morning with a solid hangover.  Went to Bumrungrad Hospital to update my vaccinations – thought I needed a Havrix/Hepatitis booster, and perhaps another 1-2.  Also wanted to get a yellow fever vaccine.  Turns out that the yellow fever vaccine is like a controlled substance, you need to get it from the Immigration Office – like in India.  Torture.  Got three other vaccinations at Bumrungrad – meningococcal, typhoid, and Japanese encephalitis – and decided to try to get the yellow fever vaccine at a Thai airport before leaving the country.  It’s optional at this point…but if I need to visit an African or Latin American country, I’d want to have this first, and preferably 1-2 weeks beforehand.  That could be an issue down the road…

Had a call with a former colleague about a potential project – a few others joined the call as well.  We had a follow-up call the next night.  Despite not working for three years, it was relatively easy to shake off the rust and within a few minutes I was doing most of the talking.  Might be a formal role for me on this work – am in the process of discussing this.  I sort of like the idea of being a contractor, living where I want, and jumping on and off defined projects.  At the same time, the potential gig in India is also quite attractive – I clearly have some thinking to do.

Went for another run with Bob – the Water Bar drinking made this run challenging.  Got through four laps again, but I was dragging.  So was Bob.  Went back to VP Tower and chatted with one of the girls at reception – this one is super-smiley and friendly.  Hmmm…

Had dinner with Bob at Larry’s Dive, a burger joint where we’d been before.  Bob was dying for a burger.  This visit wasn’t as good as our last – they screwed up Bob’s order, my food was just OK, and the prices were pretty high.  And we didn’t even drink beer there.  Oh well.  Might have to stick to Thai food – you can find anything in Bangkok/Thailand, but you really can’t count on getting world-class steaks or other international specialties, unless you’re willing to pay a lot for it.  And with the street food being so good, there’s not much of a value proposition there.  As I’ve written, I do sometimes ‘need’ Mexican or Chinese food, but I have some control over my cravings…

Walked around after dinner with Bob.  We were on Sukhumvit Soi, one of the city’s major arteries.  I swear that Bangkok is a priest’s version of hell – there are so many bars and massage parlors that you could get swallowed up by them.  There are entire streets dedicated to Japanese karaoke joints and bars…I think north Asians love coming down here and misbehaving for a few days.

Wound up on Soi Cowboy and drank at a few bars.  At one an attractive bargirl sat next to me and ordered some fried grasshoppers from a vendor.  I sat there and watched her pull the legs off the creature and munch them.  Oddly seductive…

Hit the sack at 3 a.m., again.  Had to get up the next morning and fly to Chiang Mai.  Dreamed that night that someone, I can’t recall who, showed me a copy of my favorite book, The Adventures and Misadventures of Maqroll the Looking, by Alvaro Mutis, and we talked about the book for a while.  I have my copy sitting in Boston and need to dig it out in a few weeks.  If you haven’t read this book, and most of you haven’t, get it on Amazon.

Got up and packed my bags.  Checked emails – friend Seung, in San Francisco, had read my West Bank post and deemed it my best post yet, out of nearly 140 posts.  Nice to get that sort of feedback.

Headed to the airport, and flew to CM on Thai AirAsia, probably the best of the discount operations.  Had to cough up some baht to cover excess baggage – should have left more at Bob’s.  Oh well – when I return I’ll put more in my hand baggage and try to get away with that.

Checked into my Chiang Mai guesthouse, Safe House Court.  Odd name but very solid place – they’ve renovated since I was last here.  Big room, large bed, aircon, and clean bathroom, all for US$15/night.  Bingo.  Dropped off my bags and walked around for a couple hours – noticed some funny, familiar places, like Mike’s Burgers, Marijuana Bar (I wonder if they even know what that means, or if they simply like the Latin-sounding name), the UN Irish Pub, and the wonderful ‘Mr Beer – Car Rental.’  Two things that go nicely together, beer and car rentals.

Went to the ATM, which proceeded to give me only large bills.  Asked the front desk at my guesthouse to make change, they held my 1K baht note to the light to verify its authenticity, apparently there’s some counterfeitting these days.  My bill passed muster, and I got some smaller bills in return…which I then held up to the light, eliciting a fit of laughter from the Thais.  I love moments like that…

Transferred my recent photos to my external hard drive.  Had almost exactly 1,000 pics from Egypt, and from Israel as well.  Hard to imagine places that have more to capture on film…although there is lots of competition.  Burma, Mongolia, Cambodia…

Made plans to see my Japanese friend, Hira, the next evening for dinner.  Went for a good run around the Chiang Mai moat – not a calm run, but got to see and remember a lot of the city (this is my third visit here, I think), which is fairly large and a bit confusing – the old city is basically a square and you can forget which side you’re on.  At least after hitting the bars, which I did afterward.  And again went to sleep at 3 a.m.  Slept late, got up and bumped into an American guy, older, who told me he lived in my room for a year.  A year – well, I could probably stomach that, the place is perfectly fine, and cheap as chips.  Traveling has made me identify what I want, need and can live with – and it turns out I’m a very cheap date.  Chew on that notion for a while – I doubt you’ll disagree.

I’ll leave you with my first video posted directly on my slog, it’s from Petra, and features Marcel the Dutchman and I doing our version of the Indiana Jones theme song.  I’ve been meaning to post this for months, and am finally getting around to it.  Feedback welcome.  Over and out.

http://www.fliqz.com/public/aspx/playerdefault.aspx?vid=0D94BE37FDE131DFBE22DDDDD8A8A221

I’ll try to make this post a bit shorter than last week’s blowout.  Had a good little stint in Haifa – the highlight, without a doubt, was the Baha’i Gardens.  Baha’i is a religion founded in the middle of the 19^th century and seems to be an open-minded sort of deal – they accept all the major prophets, and one isn’t born into the faith, you have to choose to become a member when you become an adult.  Anyway, they have a mind-bending terraced garden in Haifa that employs 100 gardeners a day:

Rented a car just before the Shabbat shutdown – nothing much is open after 2 p.m. Friday, all the way until Sunday morning.  Drove to a few major sights near Haifa.  The first was Beit She’arim, which was once a major religious sight and a place where various rabbinic luminaries were buried.  Pleasant place – not particularly exciting, but I had the car and wanted to pick off a few key sights – this was one of them.

Next up, Har Megiddo – say that fast and you get ‘Armageddon.’  This is where the Bible states that the final battle will take place.  Now it’s just a beautiful hilltop with palm trees and ruins – there have been people living here for something like 8,000 years.  There are 30 layers of civilizations that have been identified, putting it up there with places like Jericho.  The hilltop is stunning, it’s a windy and dramatic place.  Looking out to the fields below, you wonder what the ancients were smoking when they prophesied this place would be so prominent in the End of Days:

The waterworks were quite a feat of engineering…as with the City of David in Jerusalem, they found a way to tunnel to the local spring such that they could withstand a long siege.

Finally, visited Caesaria, King Herod’s beachfront city.  As I drove up to the coast the landscape changed drastically – lots of sanddunes, reminded me of Martha’s Vineyard.  They’ve done a pretty good job reconstructing the ruins and giving the place the feel of a city…

There’s even a diveshop on premises, apparently you can dive some ruins there.  The water was probably freezing and I didn’t even think about it.

Went for a run that night, down to the harbor area – solid outing.  Got back to the Port Inn and was walking to a fence to stretch down when I heard something and saw a small stone bouncing on the ground nearby.  Started stretching, heard some voices above me and looked up.  A couple kids were up there in an apartment – looked like they still had Christmas lights up, I figured they were Arab Christians.  The kids proceeded to chuck a small rock my way, they missed and I yelled at them to stop throwing rocks.  I called them ‘little brats’ for good measure.  They didn’t throw another – not sure if they were out of rocks (do you keep rocks in your apartment/house?) or if I cowed them.  A fellow walking bye shouted at them in Arabic and they left the balcony and went inside.  He looked over to me and said ‘you’re right, they’re little brats’ and smiled.  I had to laugh.

Rock throwing is a common pastime here.  Makes sense, I suppose – Arab kids don’t have much else with which to express their resistance and anger.  But it’s also way beyond the pale much of the time – for example, Jordanian kids throw rocks at bicyclists and there have been some serious injuries.  You don’t see many people riding bikes in Jordan, that’s one reason why.

That night, wanted to check out some bars atop Mt. Carmel, which overlooks the city and which houses the Baha’i Gardens on one side.  It’s an imposing hill and not that easy to walk up – Haifa has a tiny metro, just one line, which climbs the hill.  But it’s closed at night, so you either take a pricey cab or walk up.  I did the latter – took 45 minutes, but I got there.  Went to the Beer House, which had all sorts of beers – most overpriced, so I just went with the local Goldstar brew, which is very nice.  There was a Warren Beattie movie on, without the sound – pretty humorous.  Warren Beattie doesn’t seem to me to be that great an actor – though I loved ‘Heaven Can Wait,’ it’s probably one of my all-time favorites.

Had another beer at the Bear Pub, pretty tame.  Then caught a cab back down the hill, believe it or not.  Walking down wouldn’t have been that bad, but it was fairly late, it was shockingly cold, and I just didn’t feel like a 30-minute walk home.  Walking up the hill and cabbing down…sometimes sheer illogic is my middle name.

As I walked into my hotel I heard from a nearby bar the song ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’ by the Buggles – one of my alltime favorites.  Almost walked over to that bar, Barki, for a final drink, but thought better of it and went into the hotel.  I need to be getting up early here in Israel and seeing the sights – lying in bed all morning isn’t in the cards.

Had to return the car the next morning, and first wanted to see Elijah’s Cave, where the great prophet supposedly hid from King Ahab after slaying a bunch of pagan priests.  Managed to find the cave, on the outskirts of town – somewhat modest affair but worth the short visit.

Filled up the gas tank and returned to car.  Back to the hotel, packed, and checked out.  Renting a car is generally worth it here, it’s pretty cheap and some sights are far-flung…but it also involves some complex maneuvers, particularly when Shabbat is involved.  And you don’t want to return the car late – they give you 24 hours plus an hour grace period, after that you pay for another day.  So there’s always a bit of stress involved.

Everyone smokes here, by the way.  My new fleece jacket already reeks.  Reminds me of Japan.

Took a train up to Akko for a few hours.  Akko was the the Crusader fortress of Acre, and it’s remarkably well-preserved.  Had lunch on the harbor…walked around the old streets and saw the sights…imagined how it was in medieval times.  Apparently Marco Polo dined in the Templar Fortress here…

Back to Haifa, a bit groggy from my running around.  Picked up my stuff at Port Inn, then walked to the bus stop to catch a bus to Nazareth – which pulled up in 5 minutes.  A short time later, I was in Nazareth center.  I’m coming to like these small countries – it doesn’t take long to cover the important ground.

The bus was mostly empty…was it because it was a Sunday night, or because of concern about the Gaza bombings and potential suicide bombers in Israel?  I got on the bus with my big pack and daypack, and I think I noticed some people looking at me with concern.  For my part, I glanced back at the fat kid in the last row a couple times, he was by himself back there and I imagined him carefully setting up a bomb.  Then again, there were never more than 5-6 people on the bus, Nazareth’s the largest Arab city in Israel, and all of the hundreds of public buses in the country, this is probably not high up on the target list.  I put it out of my mind and listened to KickBong on my iPod.

Had a booking at the Sisters of Nazareth Convent, which has rooms for pilgrims and travelers.  Terrific spot – it’s right across from the Basilica of the Annunication.  Never stayed in a convent before…good thing I wasn’t in the mood to party, because they lock you out at 10:30 p.m.  I was so tired I wouldn’t even be able to make it that long.  Dumped my packs and went out for dinner.  Walked around the center city and noticed that a couple storefront windows were smashed, as were two ATMs right there.  Probably not the normal state of affairs – must have been some kids angry at the Gaza situation.  Nazareth does feel a bit more tense than other places I’ve been.

Had a good meal at El-Rida Café.  Mushrooms in cheese sauce and a glass of spiced wine.  Good fare for a chilly night.  Man, I’ll be happy to get away from this winter weather in a few days…

Got up early the next day and checked out the Basilica, where, it’s said, the Virgin Mary lived (her ‘house’ was in a grotto which is set into the lower floor of the modern church) and where she was told by the angel Gabriel (I think) that she was pregnant with Jesus.  The church itself is newish, and fairly impressive.  It’s on top of some excavated ruins of the old city, which stretch back to First Temple times.

Perhaps the coolest thing about the church is the set of images outside, ringing the church, from many different countries – these images depict Mary and baby Jesus, and are often quite local in their interpretations.  Check out these Asian versions:

There are a few more sights int Nazareth – the Church of St. Joseph, located where Joseph’s carpenter shop supposedly was, Mary’s Well, where the Greek Orthodox believe that Mary was told by Gabriel about Jesus, and St. Gabriel’s Church.  The city itself has some cool old streets and hills, and a number of crumbling Ottoman-era mansions.  Not much else, but plenty good for a night and a few hours of daytime wandering.

Had a very good breakfast of fuul (fava bean paste) and pita.  Sometimes the aftermath of these foods can be deadly, but at least they’re real food and not processed junk.

Wandering around, saw an Internet café sign and went to the door.  A young guy there let me in, turns out he’s a hairdresser looking to get a Canadian visa, his family runs the little café.  Nice guy – told me how hard it was to make a living here, and that he was desperate to go abroad and make something of himself there.  You hear a lot of that from Arabs in Israel – fairly depressing.

Wanted to see one more church, the Mensa Christ Church, which has a stone table (mensa) where, supposedly, Christ and the apostles dined after the Resurrection (I think).  It was closed, but a streetsweeper told me that a woman living next door had the key.  The streetsweeper looked and sounded American – turned out he was from Canada and had come to Israel 30 years ago.  Nice guy – I think he was happy to meet a fellow North American, sweeping the streets of Nazareth can’t be all that intellectually rewarding of a career.

Got into the church, the stone was huge and looked big enough for an expansive dinner.  Went out, saw a sign in English explaining the church – the English was hilarious, there was a bit in there about Jesus eating a stone, I believe they had meant he ate on a stone table.  That’s what you get when you go for the cheapo translation service…

Next stop was Tiberias, on the Sea of Galilee.  Only 45 minutes away, but a pain to get to.  The bus doesn’t run that often.  Waited an hour at the bus stop – then bailed and had lunch.  Went back, and after another hour it finally came.  Ran into the Canadian streetsweeper again at the bus stop – he was heading home on the local bus, to Ilit (Upper) Nazareth.  Funny dude.

Had a booking at Avis and was supposed to get my car that afternoon, but I was running late and had no use for a car at night.  Called and changed my booking to the next morning.  They were very friendly on the phone and entirely flexible – ‘no problem Mikhail!’ was their response.  I like it.

The Nazareth bus stop is right across the street from Mary’s Well.  That’s what I love about Israel – something thousands of years old, and historically renowned, is cheek-by-jowl with a modern-day institution like a bus stop.

There was a stunning Arab woman waiting for a while at the bus stop.  Wild hair, tight pants, long boots…meow!  But what a dichotomy, too – the rest of the women there were pudgy, with loose-fitting clothing and hijabs.  Like old biddies.  Sometimes I wish Eve didn’t tempt Adam with that apple…

Noticed that a Nazareth main street – I think the street where the bus station sits – is ‘Menachem Begin Street.’  Man, the local Arabs must love that.

Eventually got to Tiberius – the tackiness of which approach, and perhaps exceeded, that of Yalta and Sevastopol.  It’s one of Judaism’s holy cities, but to my eye it was a crappy lakeside town whose sole value was to provide access to the lake and to outlying areas of Israel.  I didn’t have any reason to change my mind during my two days there.

Checked into Hotel Aviv – the owner managed to upsell me on a better room.  I played 20 questions with him – he asked if I was Jewish, because Christians wouldn’t have asked so many questions.  We were both Jewish, we came to an accommodation, that was that.  Went for a run along the sea, which was OK – nice and flat, but the sea was mostly obscured by ‘clubs’ and random buildings.

Went out to see the town and have dinner.  Tiberius is pretty small, and the dining seems to be grouped into informal little places and ripoff seafood places along the shore.  Just had a piece of pizza and walked around some more – really, not much of note.  There are some hot springs/spa/baths outside of town, but I wasn’t in the mood to partake.  So went back to my room just a couple hours after heading out.

Watched a bit of TV, for once.  They had Fox News and not much else.  Fox News is simply embarrassing – crass, fat and stupid anchors and correspondents just looking for the slightest excuse to slam Obama and his crew.  Rupert Murdoch should be ashamed of himself.  This isn’t journalism.

Got my car the next morning.  I had requested a manual transmission and actually got it – was thrilled.  Hadn’t drove a manual in a few years, and was missing it.  Driving an automatic is so boring, particularly after being on a motorbike.  The car was, as in Haifa, a little Hyundai, felt like a tin box, but it was easy to maneuver and good on petrol, so I was very pleased as I pulled out of town and headed north.

First stop was Caperneum, where Jesus supposedly preached and found his first few apostles.  A few ruins and a newish church over them.  Came across a crowd of African Christians, as I had at the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem and a couple other spots.  The usual shouting, rhyming preacher, adoring crowds.  Not sure how I feel about that – I guess this is where the religion is going, Africa and Latin America are probably the only places where growth is likely.  But these people were so loud and noisy that I felt compelled to move on pretty quickly.  Good for them that they get so excited by their religion – but noise does not always equal fervor and I wonder how many of them were just going through the motions…

Drove up to Tsfat, the center of Jewish Kabbala.  Didn’t linger in this mountainside town, the highest in the country.  Took a few photos and moved on.  Wouldn’t mind coming back and spending a few days here – people say the place grows on you and has a special feeling.  I think Kabbala is a load of horseshit…but maybe Madonna knows something I don’t.

Drove through the rustic resort town on Rosh Pina, looked around but again didn’t stay long.  I only had the car for a day and had some ground to cover.  Drove up through Kiryat Shmona, famous because it’s not far from the Lebanese border and gets some incoming Katyusha from time to time.  It probably wasn’t a great time to be testing the border, but I got through nondescript Kiryat Shmona quickly and drove up to Metula, right on the border.  I figured that Hezbollah would, if they got into the battle, would lob bombs farther into Israel, and that being on the border was actually quite safe.  If Hezbollah bombs fell inside Lebanon, the Lebanese Army would have to get involved.

Metula was a quiet little place.  Very few people out and about.  Drove pretty close to the ‘Good Fence,’ the border crossing closed in 2000 or so.  Nice name.  Saw a fair few armored vehicles driving around, but the border area in general wasn’t swarming with troops or guards, I could have gotten very close to the actual frontier – but why tempt the fates?

Drove up to Dado Lookout and from there could see quite far into Lebanon – lots of barbed wire but generally beautiful land.  Certainly not heavily farmed, at least not these days…

Heard a few bursts of gunfire – one of the armies was probably having their target practice.  Hmmm…my fake French passport wouldn’t save me from that.

After looking around, drove south and headed towards the Golan Heights.  As I left Metual, a sign said ‘come back soon.’  Yeah, right.  As I drove I saw 5-6 heavily armored Hummers going north – maybe General Motors will make it after all…

Got into the Golan, which is spectacular – hills and valleys, quite green, and lots to see.  Started at Banias Nature Reserve, there’s a 10-meter waterfall and walking track, and some Herodian ruins near the springs.  ‘Banias’ comes from ‘Pan,’ the pagans used to worship Pan (one of my favorite gods, by the way) right here and I’ll bet they used to really get down.

Then drove up to Nimrod Fortress, a stunning castle on a relatively high hilltop.  The fortress itself is pretty well-preserved and larger than it looks – I spent a good hour combing the ruins.

Had intended to have a late lunch at the Witch’s Cauldron & the Milkman, a renowned resto in the nearby village, but it was already about 3 p.m. when I came down from Nimrod and also I wasn’t quite sure where the resto was.  And I wanted to check out another spot or three before the sun set at 5 p.m., so I blew off lunch and motored on.

After Nimrod, heading east towards Syria, the Golan got rockier and more lunar in appearance.  The western and central parts were pretty green, now it was more austere.  I could feel the ominous presence of Syria (drumroll, please).  Got to Mt. Bental, a former Syrian lookout/military spot pre-1967 – there are still ruined turrets and other military hardware up there.  The Israelis have placed some tacky cutout soldiers there as well.  But the views are amazing and from here you really start to grasp how strategic the Golan is:

During the 1973 Yom Kippur War the Syrians came at the Israelis through a couple passes near here – apparently the Syrian tanks weren’t hard to spot from Mt. Bental, but the Israelis were complacent/arrogant and they didn’t take steps to prevent the war.

The Golan towns aren’t anything special – mostly they’re stuck in the middle between Israel and Syria, and their development has been haphazard.  Why would Israel invest heavily if they might give back the Golan someday?  The countryside, though, is terrific and I could have spent days wandering around.  Next time.

Drove back to the Sea of Galilee.  Was hoping to drop into a winery and try their wares, but it was nearly 5 p.m. and getting dark.  And these places are mostly appointment-only.  My strategy was to drive right up to one of them, and call and beg for a quickie tasting.  But I must have overshot the wineries and wound up past them, still on the lake – so decided to just drive the entire way round, back to Tiberias.  At least I got a good sense of the lake and surrounding area.

Long day – the Galilee and the Golan in one day.  Overly ambitious, but I had a good time.  Took a long nap, then went for another run on the lake.  I’m now in solid shape – pants are getting loose and I have plenty of stamina.  About fucking time.

Went to Avi’s Restaurant that night to try ‘St. Peter’s Fish,’ a local Galilee fish that’s mild and popular.  They lightly fry it and serve it with a ton of salads and chips.  Very good meal.  But at the same time, I could use a bowl of noodles, or something spicy.  When I get to Bangkok I may be hard to stop for a couple days…

Read the International Herald Trib.  Noticed that the Ukrainian hryvnia is down 40% since I was there in September.  Unreal.  Ukraine was surprisingly pricey back then, but right now it probably feels quite reasonable.  What timing I have…

Not much nightlife so hit the sack.  Avoided watching Fox News.

Had to return the car the next morning, so again took advantage of the grace hour Avis provides and drove to a couple sites.  Couldn’t find the tomb of Rabbi Akiva, but found another one, Rabbi Hiyya.  Thought they might be one and the same – bad Jew that I am – as Hebrew translated into English has flexible spelling.  Turns out that Akiva’s buried a bit farther up the hill.  Then found the tomb of Maimonides, a famous Sephardic physician/rabbi – a bit of confusion here again, as he’s often called ‘Rambam’ but I had forgotten about that, so at first thought these were two different men.  What a morning.  Tiberius, in addition to being a tacky place, is also rough on tourists who aren’t rabbinic historians…do your homework better than I did before visiting.

By this point I was tired of indie sight-seeing.  Returned the car and was happy to again be unencumbered…Tiberius is a hard town to drive in, lots of one-ways and one particular terrifying spot where you sit and wait forever as cars race down the hill and miss you by a foot.

Checked email before my bus to Jerusalem came.  Saw one in there from friend Wild Bill, who was sitting in a tavern in New York, reminiscing about our drinking misadventures at Rocky Sullivan’s back in the day.  Bill’s note was a bit weepy…and he mentioned that I’d done a great job with this blog…so I figured he was quite deep in the drink and perhaps wasn’t getting his banker’s bonus this season.  Bill, if I’m being overly cynical, sorry old bud…you presented the opening.

Back to Jerusalem – 3 hour bus ride, very easy.  Checked back into the Golden Gate Inn, saw Sarah the manager straightaway, got the same room, felt like I was returning home in a sense.  Decided to reinforce that sense by going for a run round the Old City walls.  This was my 3^rd or 4^th time doing this, and I finally had it down pat.  I knew which hills were coming up, I was in pretty good shape, and I made it round without stopping.  I also enjoyed the run – at one point you’re above Absalom’s Pillar, it’s nicely lit and you feel like you’re racing through history.  Also ran by, on Mt. Zion, Schindler’s grave.  Got back to the hotel feeling better than I had in a while.

Traded Facebook messages with cousin Sara, who’s still settling in here.  Decided to meet in a day or so.  Went out for dinner and a beer or three…ran into Sarah from Golden Gate Inn on the street, she told me that a group from ‘Christian Peace Coalition’ or something like that had just checked into the hotel.  They go out to the territories and interview Palestinians, and do their best to try to form a barrier of sorts between the Israeli ‘security’ forces and the locals.  And they see some serious shit, from what Sarah was telling me.  I was about to jump into the fray – I was going on an ‘alternative tour’ of Bethlehem and Hebron the very next day.

Noticed I had a bunch of missed calls from the same number.  Called it back – it was George, the Bethlehem fellow who was guiding my tour the next day.  He wanted me to come to Bethlehem on the bus, and not meet me in the Old City.  OK…he told me which bus to take, I wasn’t that concerned about going by myself.  Felt a bit like going to see Grandma on the plane when I was 6 years old or thereabouts.

Had a couple beers in the Dublin Pub – and watched an NBA game on a classic sports program channel.  It was from May 1989, a playoff game between Chicago and Cleveland, featuring a young Michael Jordan.  I graduated from university in 1989…I guess now my young adulthood belongs to the annals of history…

The ride to Bethlehem went fine, found a minivan after some searching and got on.  It was mostly empty, I think I was going against ‘Palestinian traffic,’ there are apparently thousands coming the other way, into Israel, in the morning.  A furious discussion took place between the driver and an old passenger, the only word I could really make out was ‘Hezbollah.’  Hmmm.  I kept my mouth shut, and my USA passport in my pocket.

Minivan stopped at a terminal-like building that turned out to be a formal checkpoint operation – had to show my passport, have my daypack checked, etc.  Bit of a clusterfuck, but I heard that the Palestinians entering Israel have it very bad – 5,000 line up at 1 a.m. to get in throughout the morning.  There are only a few booths, so it goes slow.  I can only imagine what a long night that must be.  I’ll never complain about Tokyo’s Narita Airport immigration process again…

What follows may turn some of you off, but it’s straight from the gut.  The day went pretty much as expected, I had signed up for this ‘alternative tour’ which was to include a look at the ‘Separation Wall,’ a refugee camp (as close as we could get to one, anyway),  Israeli settlements, and talks with some local intelligentsia.  And I got what was promised, and a bit more.  Here goes…

The Bethlehem checkpoint presented the first example of arrogance, or at least condescension.  I showed my passport, the guards were two youths who I thought were a bit mocking of my being an American and wanting to enter the West Bank.  They didn’t give me any trouble, per se, but I felt a fair amount of negative energy and overconfidence – something I felt during the entire day.  They were fascinated by my fat passport, and looked through it for a minute or two…then one asked me if I like Obama, to which I said yes.  I asked them if they did too – I wasn’t 100% sure what they said in response, but I think one said that he didn’t know, ‘Obama’s black.’  Charming.  No surprise that Jews can be as racist as anyone, but you’d think that given our history, we’d at least make an effort not to discriminate.  Right.

On the Bethlehem side, bought a cup of tea from a friendly local while I waited for George to come and get me.  Got a hundred taxi offers, biz doesn’t look too good there.  The tea vendor invited me to come and have dinner with his family…I tend to discount these offers, but in any event he was friendly and that helped get me back to equilibrium after the checkpoint annoyance.  Then George showed and off we went.

We picked up 3 more tourists – all Americans.  Matt had just finished university and was on a Birthright program tour of Israel…Betty was a professor of Women’s Studies and Anthropology at Wichita State University (she was shocked when I told her I knew the WSU sports nickname is the ‘Shockers’), and her student Kristen, who’s a recent convert to Islam and is a vegan to boot.  Betty and Kristin had already spent some time in the West Bank (Betty a lot of time), and both came in very pro-Palestinian and anti-Zionist.  Matt and I, both Jewish, came in with open minds and wanted to see the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Mission accomplished, and how.

Started the program with breakfast with a Palestinian professor/author, Mazen, who taught at Yale, I believe, and did some road shows at US universities before moving back here recently.  Pleasant fellow – not hard to detect where his sympathies lay.  His thesis, presented gently but firmly, was that Israel is a colonial power, acts in completely colonial ways, and actually does not want any two-state or one-state solution – it wants the status quo, in which it can continue to grab land and squeeze Palestinians onto smaller, more marginal bits of land while expropriating the best for themselves.  Israel doesn’t want peace, it wants conflict, to push this process along and to feed its military-industrial machine.  To the prof, it’s that simple.

I told him I found that pretty cynical…that it didn’t incorporate the Jewish sense of victimhood and the memory of the Holocaust into the equation…and that many, probably most of the Israeli public, and perhaps its politicians, wanted some solution and not the status quo.  I couldn’t cite any numbers or roll out any convincing data…but neither could he.  His arguments were more streamlined than mine, then again he spends most of his time on the topic and I don’t.  I’m not sure how he felt being challenged like this – Matt was keeping pretty quiet, and Betty and Kristen had gone for his argument hook line and sinker.

Anyway, we kept it civil…and I had found it interesting to hear his points.  Nothing was entirely novel, I’d read these before, but reading something and hearing it presented live are two different things.

The paradox here, in my opinion, is that there are so many layers to the conflict that it doesn’t make sense to just talk about what’s happening right now (‘Hamas fired rockets at southern Israel’ vs. ‘Israel won’t give back the West Bank’), the historical context is critical to making sense of the mess.  But the paradox kicks in because, IMHO, you almost need to put aside the past and start with a clean slate of paper – both sides can point fingers ad infinitum, the best way to solve the conflict is to decide what’s an acceptable end-state and work backwards from there.  Of course, easier said than done.

From there, we went to see a couple sections of the ‘Separation Wall’, which the locals call the ‘Apartheid Wall.’  Some incredible graffiti there…some of it quite moving.  Some humorous, some hard to classify – one person had stenciled ‘Ich Bin Ein Berliner’ in huge letters.  Kristen didn’t know what that meant – unreal.  Here was a 20-something American girl who had converted to Islam and was nodding her head furiously to the arguments the prof had been making, and to the points George was making, and yet she had no clue about a famous moment in American – and world – history, a moment that at least the graffiti artist (unlikely an American) had found relevant and I agreed was relevant to the new wall here.  Weak.

I don’t like walls, short and simple.  The Berlin Wall was fated to fall…this wall is full of bad karma and will fall one day too…and I thought about the wall the USA is building on its Mexican border.  Walls don’t work that well, and create so much bad will (and an easy target for hatred) that they’re a net negative.  You could argue that every wall has a different purpose, but those differences are tactical – the overarching objective for all walls is to keep one group out.  This wall has the added aggravation of being built in parts of the West Bank that were supposed to be handed back to the Palestinians – so it’s not only separating, but it’s seizing as well.  You’d think that Jews, with their experience in the European ghettos during WW2, would know better.  More on this in a bit.

Throughout the morning George was pointing out Israeli settlements – legal and illegal – which surrounded Bethlehem.  I think he said there were 29 of them, and some were quite developed, looking like little cities.  I didn’t like this – I’ve never been a fan of the settlers, and I can’t see how having settlements in the West Bank helps Israeli security or will lead to any sort of peace.  Of course, the prof’s argument comes into play here – if Israel doesn’t really want peace, and just wants land with no Palestinians on it, then this fits right in.

We proceeded to Manger Square…there was a anti-Gaza bombing protest there.  Fairly calm, later we heard that some of the protestors tried to get close to the Israeli soldiers at a checkpoint but that the Palestinian Authority guards kept them at bay.

Went into the Church of the Nativity – George showed us around, and eventually we descended into the grotto where Jesus was supposedly born, marked with a silver star:

Interesting, but much less than than the contemporary issues we were coming up against.

Had a great lunch of hummos, fuul, falafel, and pita.  Burp.  Rolled out of there and caught a minivan to Hebron, our next stop.  Skirted the growing disturbance, which was centered near Rachel’s Tomb.  The PA cops were trying to keep a gang of youths at bay – these PA cops are really the meat in the sandwich, stuck between their own people and the Israelis.

Got to Hebron in a half hour or so, didn’t get stopped at any checkpoint.  Which I think was unusual.

We walked into the old city, which is fairly well-preserved, or at least restored.  Hebron was a real eye-opener, mainly because there’s an enclave of 300-400 Jews living in the middle of an Arab Palestinian city of 170,000.  Weird.  And the Jewish areas – there are a couple that we saw – are literally welded shut and blocked by barbed wire, fences, and military gates so that locals can’t enter.  You have 2,000 Israeli guards protecting 400 settlers.  The guards apparently hate the job…who wouldn’t?  The settlers must be fucking crazy to want to live in Hebron – they live like caged animals, despite getting preferential treatment with water, electricity, space, etc.

The two sides do not, suffice it to say, co-exist peacefully.  The old city alleys and streets have fence above the streets, because the settlers often live in apartment buildings that tower above these streets, and they toss their garbage (and sometime dirty water, rocks, and worse) down on the Palestinians below.  Very ugly.  Check it out:

The Israelis have tried to clear the old city, at least sections proximate to the settlers, by closing hundreds of shops, welding them shut.  Entire streets of Hebron are ghostly quiet and empty.  Really haunting.  And I heard that settlers have been known to attack Palestinians on the street, then hide behind soldiers, or take off.  Charming.

Our eventual goal was the Tomb of the Patriarchs, aka the Cave of Machpelah, where Abraham, Sarah, his sons and their spouses are entombed (supposedly).  After looking around the old city and getting a sense for the settler situation there, we passed through a checkpoint (there are over 100 in the city itself – imagine that) to get to the Tomb.  Betty and Kristen went ahead of us…when I got through I heard Betty dressing down a young soldier, saying ‘in our country you can choose whatever religion you like.’  Apparently the young guard had seen Kristen’s hijab and outfit and asked her why she, an American woman, had converted.  Not sure what Kristen said in response, but the guard then apparently said that she had made a mistake.  Very cheeky, and totally uncalled for.  Again, Jews should know much better.

There were Muslim prayers taking place, so we had a half hour to kill.  Walked down to a street that’s off-limits to the locals, except for a handful who work there.  It’s a street entirely set aside for Jewish settlers – there’s even a cultural center there.  We had to parley with a couple bored soldiers there, then climb over a short concrete barrier.  The soldiers asked if we were Jewish – Matt and I said yes.  They eventually let Betty and Kristen in, and George as well, but they gave them a hard time.  It was all very tawdry and unpleasant.  The street was deathly quiet and there was one shop open, we went in and checked it out.  The owner is Palestinian and he was so happy to see tourists that he almost cried.  Betty bought something from him, and we chatted for a while.

We walked back to the Tomb, and had to deal with two layers of security to enter.  The Baruch Goldstein 1994 massacre had lead to the current heavy security, which is understandable…but the Israeli guards gave George a hard time and kept hold of his West Bank ID card while he was inside.  They were OK with the rest of us, but I did detect some hostility towards Kristen, and they weren’t all that friendly towards the rest of us.  Again, it seemed to be a case of ‘why the hell do you want to be in the West Bank, foreigners?’  Even though this is a place that’s one of the holiest sites in each of the monotheistic religions…

Again, I had the sense that these guards had a terrible job and didn’t much enjoy it.  But, I felt there were transgressions – I watched as an older Palestinian woman walked by the Tomb and a young Israeli female soldier/guard yelled to her.  The woman didn’t stop – probably didn’t hear / didn’t understand Hebrew / didn’t know she was the target.  Eventually she turned and came over to the guard, who went through her purse, then let her proceed.  What was the security justification for that move?  All it did was demonstrate to the older woman that a young Israeli girl could pull her over and humiliate her in a low-grade fashion.  I watched the entire thing with distaste and a bit of shock.

My head was spinning as we enter the Tomb, a place I’ve always wanted to visit.  I decided to synthesize my thoughts after checking out the Tombs.  The place is divided into a mosque and a synagogue, most of the tombs are in the former.  We walked around and saw Abraham’s tomb:

Sarah’s here:

You’ve also got Isaac, Jacob and their wives interred there.  Note that the actual tomb is a level below, you can’t go down there, and the caretaker said no one had been down there in memory.  Candles are lowered down on this contraption, and that’s as close as you get to what may be the final, 4000-year-old resting place of Father Abraham and his brood:

Solemn and impressive place.  Felt like the air was heavy with history…at the same time it wasn’t overwrought, on the floor next to Abraham’s tomb I noticed a few pieces of paper lying there, and there were various bits of repair/construction going on.  I told George I’d give anything to be able to go to the tomb and see what’s really there.  He told me that the Canaanites buried people in rock-hewn cavities and that if this is really the burial place, the tomb itself might still be in decent shape.  I had wondered aloud whether the place was flooded/covered in garbage/etc., and in any event Abraham might be a fictional character…but maybe not.

George showed us a few covered bullet holes from the Baruch Goldstein attack in 1994.

Walked out and back into the old city – a few dealings with the guards, but not too bad.  Started to think through the day – the morning discussion with the prof seemed ages ago.  Here’s what I came up with:

-First, a few principles.  Children should never be targeted or hurt; people should be treated with decency; etc.  There’s no excuse for ever violating these principles.

-Second, some things are beyond pure logic/law, and are in the domain of emotion.  I fully support Israel’s founding and right to exist, despite the trauma it caused others.  I’m Jewish, I lost relatives to the Holocaust, and I think the creation of Israel was critical to the survival of the Jewish people.

-Third, I refuse to give my blanket support to all things Israeli, including so-called security measures.  What I observed during the day disgusted me – soldiers taunting Muslims, settlements all over the West Bank, etc.  These things are absolutely wrong.

-Fourth, it seems to me that both sides deserve each other.  Depressing, and cynical perhaps, but that’s my sense.

-Fifth, I think that a two-state solution is the best approach, and sooner rather than later.  I didn’t really buy the prof’s argument that Israel will drag this out forever – if for no other reason than the demographics will make the Palestinian Arabs the larger group in a few decades’ time.  But I also can’t really say that he’s wrong – what we’re observing could be interpreted to support his thesis.  My overall sense is that the occupation has been incredibly poisonous for Israel, not worth it, and the bad energy is palpable.  We’ve turned Jews into, not heroic soldiers, but security guards who seemed a scary copy of Nazi ghetto guards in WW2.  Watching the guards harass Palestinians merely trying to move about the(ir) city drained the life out of me and gave me a very bad vibe.

With regard to what’s going on right now – I’ve generally been supportive of Israel doing something to stop the rockets coming in from Gaza.  I haven’t been happy with the level of civilian/child casualties, not at all, but understand it’s hard to have none, particularly when Hamas seems to fire its rockets from densely populated areas.  Still, I wonder where the diplomacy is – and whether there’s any way to break this vicious cycle.  To my earlier point about time horizons and paradox…the two sides are stuck in a never-ending cycle of accusations, hatred and violence, and I think it’ll take a powerful outside force, or person (Obama?) to break the inertial chain, like the case of having an allergy or other chronic condition.  Stopping the fucking settlements, and dismantling the existing ones, seems to me to be the place to start.

One more thought on this.  I think it’s a terrible idea to let men under the age of 40 hold a gun.  They can’t handle it.  Believe me.

The day ended – George drove Matt and I back to the Bethlehem checkpoint.  He called his pregnant wife – and called her ‘baby’ when she picked up.  Aren’t we all pretty damn similar, despite everything?  George had lived abroad and spent times in the States, and I met other Palestinians who had similar experiences.  99% of Palestinians are not fundamentalist Muslims running around shooting guns – most of them, in fact, are as or less religious than many Israeli Jews.  Ramallah is known for having quite a few fun bars and discos…

BTW, Matt was finishing up a stint in the Birthright program, which brings foreign Jews over for a look-see, and pays most of the way.  Quite cool – I don’t think I’d ever heard of this program, unfortunately.  If I had, I would definitely have gone for it when younger.  Matt also told me that the Madoff scandal had hit the program hard and that it was being severely cut back or perhaps even closed – just awful.

Got back to Damascus Gate – walked down the steps to the entrance.  Noticed some tourists pulling wheeled suitcases – they came to the first set of steps, then backtracked and took a ramp down a level.  They came to the second level of steps – and then went back and a long way round to a final, long ramp down.  They probably walked hundreds of meters to avoid carrying their suitcases down 20 steps.  Incredible.  At least the locals here – Jews and Arabs – aren’t such prima donnas…

Walked around the ‘American Colony’ a bit last night.  Went into the chi-chi American Colony Hotel to check out the lobby and the well-known Cellar Bar, where many a journalist has sit and composed over drinks.  It was full and there were no seats available, so I left and walked to the city center, my usual haunt.  Had some kibbeh, and a couple beers, then called it a night.

This morning, at breakfast, I overheard a woman (American – surprised?) with that ‘Christian Peace Coalition’ group ask ‘what’s an aliyah?’  Not a common term, I know, and most of you probably won’t know it – but this woman is here in Israel to dig into the seams of the society and she should have done her fucking homework.  An aliyah is when a foreign Jew immigrates to Israel.  Not that hard to learn, or grasp.

Did a bit of final Jerusalem sight-seeing before leaving for Tel Aviv.  Went to the Greek Patriarchate to see the Prison of Christ, where Jesus was supposedly held before undergoing the Stations of the Cross.  Cavelike place – somewhat interesting.  No idea if it’s the real place or not.  Then walked towards the Jewish Quarter, for a final look at the Wailing Wall and a local museum.  En route, I was ambling along and lost in my thoughts, as I often am.  At one point, near Via Dolorosa, I thought I heard some shouting, and turned around – an Israeli guard/soldier/cop, a guy in his mid-40s, was striding towards me, saying something in Hebrew.  I couldn’t understand him, and asked ‘can I help you?’  He replied ‘why didn’t you stop?’  I told him, a bit testily, that I hadn’t really heard him and that there were dozens of people around, so his yelling could have been directed at them.  I told him I was an American Jew going to the Wailing Wall.  I pulled out my passport and thrust it at him.  He got the point, and said ‘you don’t have to be angry.’  I said I was quite annoyed and didn’t like getting accosted in the street.  He repeated his line, that I shouldn’t be angry.  I wondered aloud why I appeared to be a security risk.  He didn’t say anything, and handed back my passport.  He said ‘good day’ and I took my passport and walked off without another word.

I wondered what that was all about.  It was a Friday, Muslim Sabbath, in the Muslim Quarter, and security is always heavy for that.  But I was dressed very much like a foreign tourist (hiking boots, sahara pants, fleece) and I couldn’t understand his game.  Was he trying to lord his authority over a foreigner?  Did he have some intelligence on me – did he know that I’d been hanging around the West Bank yesterday?  If so, how did he know that?  Possible, perhaps, but doubtful.  All I knew was that I was very annoyed – and could understand/indentify with how Palestinians must feel all the fucking time.  And I was angry for a couple hours afterward – I breezed by the Wailing Wall, I visited the Burnt House Museum (Jewish priest’s house, burned by the Romans), but did so quickly and without enthusiasm.  My perhaps guilty feelings from the West Bank visit felt 99% vindicated.  I didn’t feel good about having my sentiments confirmed by a bit of data, but I couldn’t do anything about it – that was my reality.  Welcome to Israel.  I think any Zionist roots I’ve got are being dissolved by incidences like these…

Felt that I’d seen enough, went back to the hotel to cool off a bit and then finish writing this post – just so you know, the West Bank part was written before my encounter with the guard.

Shabbat loomed.  Said goodbye to Sarah, the manager at Golden Gate Inn – we’ve had some brilliant conversations over the course of my two stays there.  I think we’re both seekers, in a sense, and she helped me get a much better grasp of the complexities of the situation here in Israel.  I wish her the best in her life journey.

Called cousin Sara – went over to her new place to say hi, and bye, before heading to Tel Aviv.

Tonight in Tel Aviv I plan to meet up with a friend of a friend, Yaron, who used to be in a joint venture with old college buddy Charles.  Should be a boozy night – anyway, I can sleep in late on Saturday.  Then I fly through Istanbul to Bangkok, where, I hope, I’ll be welcomed by warm air, spicy food, and smiling people.  The land of Israel has been a revelation…and I can only take so much revelation at a time – that’s probably obvious from this post.  Israel, despite my gripes in this post, has felt like something of a home(land), warts and all.  I need to contemplate these past weeks in a lot more depth.  Over and out.

Finished up my time in Tel Aviv.  The weather was still crap – colder than I had imagined it would get in Israel (and this was on the coast), and very rainy.  Took a walk back over to the Carmel Market, a place I was becoming fond of.  Ambled around the old Yemenite Quarter surrounding the market – this place is shabby, low-rise, and probably one of the city’s more charming areas.  A little shop was selling bras and panties – two Filipinas stopped to look at the stuff and started giggling.  I love it.

Headed over to Sheinkin Street, the city’s high street, at least for edgier shopping.  Didn’t see anything particularly gripping – then again I can’t stand shopping.

Had my iPod with me, and caught up on some podcasts.  Washington Week is probably the most informative one I subscribe to – this edition focused on the U.S. auto bailout .  Sounds grim.  I think in a year’s time, or even less, Chrysler will be part of Ford, or perhaps a foreign manufacturer, and G.M. will have shed one or two of its lines.  And that might be the best-case scenario.  I’m generally supportive of keeping the industry alive, because so many jobs are linked to it – at the same time I don’t want to keep these companies on life-support for another 3 decades.  Something’s gotta give.

To be fair, the U.S. makers have been saddled with overhead like health insurance, and foreign companies are largely free of this – they have national healthcare.  Still, something’s gotta give, and I think the end-game is in sight.

My drive to get back in shape has been working – went for another good run along the Tel Aviv beach promenade, one of the better running paths anywhere.  I think another couple weeks and I’ll have made up for my non-exercise in Turkey and Jordan.  This isn’t getting any easier as I get older…

Particularly when my nighttime activities haven’t changed much.  I went that night to Moses, a fairly chi-chi place on Rothschild Avenue that’s famous for its gourmet sandwiches and hamburgers.  I had their ‘Moses Burger’ – it was exceptional.  And a couple Goldstar beers to wash it down – I had wondered why I felt spacey after just one or two of these, then noticed that they’re 4.9% alcohol.  Hmmm…

Israel has never been famous for its food, but it’s apparently gotten much better.  And I liked the blend of Middle Eastern and Euro/Western.  Very easy to get a quick sandwich from a place on the street – and it’s real food, not processed junk.  I’m eating my fair share, but don’t feel that bloated.  Real food, not ‘quick-serve’ / chain garbage.

Was becoming friendly with Itzi, the owner of Hotel Eilat, despite my initial impressions. He has a great sense of humor and is a warm guy.  I wasn’t thrilled with my tiny room…but the price was right and it was right near the beach.  For some reason I hit it off well with guesthouse owners and staff – maybe I’m in a ‘sweet spot’ between old geezers that are always complaining, and clueless kiddies who never have any cash and trash their rooms.

Took a walk over to the old port of Jaffa.  I had come upon Jaffa during the previous night’s run, but wasn’t aware that I had actually gotten that far.  Tel Aviv has expanded to the point of swallowing Jaffa, and other supposedly distinct towns and cities.  Jaffa’s an ancient place, and fairly attractive – but I found ‘old Jaffa’ to be a bit too much ‘ye olde Jaffa,’ a museum-like place with annoying vendors everywhere.  The new town, down the hill, was a bit more real – there was a townwide flea market going on and people were in full shopping mode.  To be honest, I find flea markets vaguely depressing…the vendors seem to be even more desperate than the average merchant (their overhead is lower, but their merchandise isn’t stuff you’d find in a real shop), and the stuff on offer is other people’s junk.  Occasionally there’s a connection and the transaction happens, but I don’t find it an energizing experience.  I wish I felt otherwise – there are a few great bargains, and some good stuff, to be had, I just dislike the entire aura.

Had lunch at Dr. Shakshuka, a place recommended by Dri.  Shakshuka is a mixture of egg, tomato, and god knows what else, served in a pan.  Better than it sounds.  And very filling too.  I think it’s a North African/Libyan recipe.

After a couple hours wandering around Jaffa, I had changed my mind and kind of enjoyed it.  Perhaps the best aspect of Jaffa – the view over the Tel Aviv coast.  Tons of surfers, and pretty damn good surf.  I hadn’t thought of Israel as a place for this, but the locals are into it.

Walked around Tel Aviv proper for another couple hours.  Ducked into Max Brenner Chocolates for a sugar fix – they had the ‘choctail’, a milk chocolate cream and caramel toffee frozen blend.  As good as it sounds.  I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but this satisfied some primordial urge and I walked out grinning.

Went to the Old Port area that night, it was Friday and I wanted to get a better taste of the nightlife.  Had a Goldstar beer en route – and wasn’t feeling that great when I finally reached Old Port.  Might be something in the Goldstar beer, it’s a dark beer – I generally drink regular lagers.  Went into a café to use the toilet, I was pretty desperate.  Emerged a new man – and promptly ordered a beer (Maccabee, this time).  Started talking to a cute woman next to me at the bar, Andrea, who’s an anthropologist.  Told her a bit about my potential new gig in India – she was utterly fascinated by the social change aspect.  This is right up her alley and I could see some benefits of doing some ‘anthropological deep market research’.  We hung out for a few hours and chatted – might be something there.

Tel Aviv, while perhaps a bit too Miami Beach, is a cool city nonetheless – quite liveable and relatively hedonistic.  I have a feeling Jerusalem will be the polar opposite.

Had a drink that night at a bar called ‘Jewish Princess,’ back in the city center.  It’s a gay bar, so they say, but seemed to me to be full of yuppies.  Pretty good vibe, plus they had an ancient tabletop Pacman video game – haven’t seen one of those in 20+ years.  Sat down and played a game, and survived for 5 screens.  So there.

Talked to a few folks in the bar.  One thing I can really appreciate about Israel (and France, and the UK) is that the average person you meet is intelligent, thoughtful, and knows a bit about the world.  I wouldn’t say that about many countries in Asia, and I wouldn’t say that about the U.S.  Americans have their qualities – optimism, can-do spirit, etc. – but thoughtfulness and cross-cultural knowledge are sorely lacking.

Heard that the Yankees opened their wallet and signed pitchers Sabathia and Burnett, and third baseman Texeira.  Ugh.  Those are huge signings, and will probably transform the division race next season.  Either that, or, like many New York additions, they’ll wilt under the NYC spotlight.  But these three are fairly young and in their prime – it’s hard to see how they’ll fail utterly.

Went over to Lilienblum Street after midnight.  There’s a fun bar called Mish Mish (Apricots, in Hebrew) where I sat and talked with some locals about Middle Eastern politics.  I suppose I’m at a decided disadvantage here – it’s their lifeblood, after all.  That said, I’ve spent time in other Middle Eastern countries, they often have not, so I have a decent grasp of the Egyptian mindset, for instance.  I’d like to see true democracy in Egypt – many Israelis would not, for fear of the Muslim Brotherhood taking over.  I don’t like the notion of keeping the lid on the pot, it can’t stay on forever…but many Israelis would prefer to attempt that and not risk Egypt becoming more radical.  Tough knot to untie…

Was happy to be leaving Hotel Eilat – the guy in the next room over had some awful cough and it sounded like a death rattle.  Depressing.

Saturday morning, Shabbat, in Tel Aviv.  Very quiet everywhere, even in this largely secular town.  Found a place with coffee and food.  Then checked out of the hotel and got a sherut (minivan taxi) to the central bus station.  Regular buses don’t run on Shabbat, but there are sherut, presumably run by secular Jews and Arabs.  The system works pretty well, and you can get around.

Connected to a sherut to Jerusalem.  As I sat in the minivan for the hourlong ride to Jerusalem, I thought about my lengthy travels…and how there was a certain symbolism in now coming to Jerusalem, and perhaps ending my travels (at least my travels to ‘new places’) in such a place.  I’d be going on to Thailand, the Philippines, and Oz afterwards, en route to Boston…but these are largely R&R/seeing friends pit stops.  The past 6-7 months have been (except for 2 weeks in India) entirely in novel places and I’ve been a constant tourist for this stretch of time.  It’s been demanding, and tiring – nearly every day I’ve been focused on seeing the local sights and ensuring that my next stop or two was arranged.  Certainly better than working…but at the same time I’m happy to be taking a break from my holiday (!) and visiting some places I already know.

We pulled into the city.  ‘Purple Rain’ was playing on the radio…I was fanning myself with a Jet Airways (India) safety card…there seemed to be some consternation in the streets.  I was staying near the Old City’s Damascus Gate, within the Old City itself – this is on the Arab East Jerusalem side of the city.  I got out of the sherut and got a taxi to take me to the gate.  The cabbie told me that Israel had just started dropping bombs on the Gaza Strip and that Israel was no good.  He was obviously an Arab…and my timing was obvious not great.  Welcome to Jerusalem.  Worlds away from Tel Aviv.

I spent the next 5 days in the Holy City.  I’d use two adjectives to describe this place:  intense, and tense.  I’m sure you’ll see what I mean after a few more paragraphs.

Checked into the Golden Gate Inn.  The manager was an American expat who was quite helpful, but seemed a bit stressed.  My room was small but clean and perfectly fine.  Went out to see the Old City – my first time here, at the age of 41.  Familiar refrain – why did it take me so long to get here??

The Old City is a warren of alleys and doorways, and it’s not always clear where you can really go.  The Muslim Quarter, where I was staying, is particularly labyrinthine.  In just a few minutes I had a solid sense the quarter’s identity – this is really a Muslim area, these people have been here for generations and things didn’t change all that much in 1967 or afterwards.  There were a fair number of Israeli soldiers around, probably because of the Gaza bombings and fear of the locals’ reaction.

I walked around, and at one point went through a portal that seemed to lead to an alley or street.  After a few steps it became clear this wasn’t a public area and it lead to a private home or homes.  I went back out, and after a few steps a kid, perhaps 10 years old, came up and said something to me.  I responded in English, then in French – he was speaking Arabic and I couldn’t understand him.  He seemed a bit confrontational, but not overly so – just seemed to be a kid trying to be a man.  I stood my ground – I wasn’t that concerned, and anyway in these situations you don’t want to show any fear, or anger.  After a few seconds an old man said something to him and he moved on.  I went over to the old man, who spoke English, and talked with him.  He told me that it was no big deal, the passageway was private but that tourists were always walking into it, that the kid was giving me a bit of lip, that today was more tense than usual.  He was cool and we both laughed about it.  Hey, I remember being 10 years old and wanting to be a real man – and probably succeeding at being no more than a little brat.

Decided to walk the Stations of the Cross.  This is the route Jesus supposedly walked, carrying the cross, all the way to his crucifixion.  The walk ends up in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Jesus was supposedly buried.  The sepulcher itself is an ornate edifice within the church, and I went inside (the queue was brutal) and saw the stone table where Jesus’s body was laid.  The Stations walk is a good way to see the holy Christian sites and I learned a bit about Christian history as well.

Went to the Wailing Wall as the sun was setting.  It was the end of Shabbat and the Western Wall Plaza was packed.  Orthodox Jews, and some less devout Jews, were praying at the Wall, and in a chamber nearby there was a free communal meal for locals and visitors – I had a bit to eat and some juice that reminded me of the sugar crap they used to serve in summer camp.

The Wall was a real trip.  I could feel the history of this place, it’s in the air.  Right above was the Temple Mount, a sacred place I planned to visit later in the week.  More on this shortly.

Left the Old City through the nearby Dung Gate and walked around the entire Old City, which took more than an hour.  Probably not the best night to do this, given the political situation, but I didn’t feel like going back to the hotel just yet and I wanted to immerse myself in the geography and, to the extent possible, the mood of the place.  I’m not particularly religious…but I’m fascinated by the history of this place, and by the religious/historical/political mysteries as well.  Ceremonies and dogma turn me off, but, for example, I’d really love to know what might lie buried under the Temple Mount.  Where on earth is the Ark of the Covenant?  Was there ever truly such a thing?

Walking round the Old City reminded me a bit, to force yet more symmetry into my long travel tale, of walking round Ayers Rock in June 2006, early on in my journey.  The Old City is larger, and obviously manmade – but both had an ancient feel.

Back to the hotel.  Took a shower, then went over to the city center to check out the nightlife, it was Saturday night and Shabbat was coming to an end.

Jerusalem is much more lively than I had expected.  There are quite a few restaurants and bars, and I wound up at a place called Dublin Pub.  Became friendly with a waitress there and we chatted for a while.  Some Hasidic Jews came in and led a Hanukkah ceremony – the bartender put on a kipa and a bunch of us joined in.  First time I’ve celebrated Hanukkah in a bar, first time with a beer in hand.  I later saw the same thing in another bar, apparently this group travels from bar to bar to make sure, or ‘help’ these places be observant.

Oh, for a second youth – I wish I had come here when I was 20.  The city was full of young Americans, studying or sightseeing.  I know lots of people don’t get here till they’re 60, but I still felt ‘late.’  Forgive me, Lord.

Tried to visit the Temple Mount the next morning, but it was closed, probably because of the Gaza mess.  Instead, went on the ‘Western Wall Tunnel Tour,’ which I had booked in advance.  Quite cool – they take you along a now-underground section of the Western Wall, which has been covered with arches and buildings since the city fell to the Muslims.  You can see sections of the First and Second Temples, truly ancient stones.  At one point there are people praying, hard-core – this is the section of the Wall closest to the ancient temples’ “Holy of Holies,” where the Ark sat.  It’s bizarre – you’re underground and there are (mostly) women praying towards a section of wall lit with candles.

After coming up for air, I walked over to the Wall and attempted a few weak prayers, my head against the stone.  After stepping back, a Hasidic fellow came over and ascertained that I was a foreign Jew.  Within a minute he told me he had a large family and asked if I could spare some money.  Torture.  I smiled but told him that we all had to support our own families first – and that he surely knew what he was getting into by having lots of children.  He nodded his head and walked away.  Begging at the Western Wall – I’m not that religious, but that’s very bad form.  And during my time in Jerusalem, I was targeted more often by Jewish beggars than by Arab beggars – myths explode here left and right.

I was in awe of the sheer number of things to see in Jerusalem.  And they’re coming up with more all the time…just a few years ago they started excavating the ‘City of David,’ the original Jebusite settlement just below the current Old City.  King David and his boys captured this settlement around 1000 B.C., with Solomon eventually building the First Temple on the hill above the city – that became the nexus for the Old City.  They’ve done a very good job of trying to show visitors what things may have looked like – even to the extent of using 3-d holograms.

I went to the City of David and spent a couple hours there.  There are various water shafts leading to and from the Gihon Spring, the water source and raison d’etre for there being a city here in the first place.  Didn’t do the half-kilometer slog through Hezekiah’s Tunnel, which was used to protect the water (and people) from the Assyrian Army around 700 B.C.  But I got a sense of the engineering and thinking behind the plan for this place and it’s impressive.

Is this the tunnel King David and his men used to invade the city?  Maybe…

Went over and checked out Mt. Zion, a few sights are located there.  First, King David’s Tomb – please attach a large ‘supposedly’ to that, since there’s very little chance that this is really it:

Next, tried to see the Virgin Mary’s place of death (they call it ‘eternal sleep’).  Her burial spot is actually (supposedly) at the foot of the Mount of Olives, but she (supposedly) died here.  The crypt was closed due to lack of electricity, so I took a raincheck.

Finally, finished up my Mt. Zion excursion with a visit to the room where the Last Supper was (supposedly) held.  Pretty low-key place.

Walked over to Jaffa Gate and did the Ramparts Walk, along the Old City Walls from Jaffa Gate back to Zion Gate.  Some terrific views of Mt. Zion from the walls…and I realized that Old City Jerusalem is still, in many ways, a bit wild and undeveloped.  There are empty lots here and there…and down the hill, in the Kidron Valley, perhaps the oldest part of the city, it’s still wide open.  You could pretty much point a shovel anywhere and find something within minutes…

Then wandered around the Jerusalem Archeological Park, which covers a stretch around the Western Wall and continues outside the Old City wall.  It’s a sprawling place, and another example, like the City of David, of recently excavated finds being shared with the public.  Good stuff.

A couple shots of stones from the top part of the Temple Mount wall, presumably the Western Wall, thrown to the ground by the Romans in 70 A.D.  The stones sat there, then were buried, until they were uncovered after the Six Day War – amazing history right here:

Outside Dung Gate I saw a traffic cop sitting on a nice bike – upon closer inspection it turned out to be a BMW.  I told the cop I was a bit surprised that an Israeli cop would have a German motorbike – he didn’t respond and looked a bit sheepish.  I wasn’t meaning to be an asshole, and I think I’m reasonably open-minded, but I was pretty surprised.  About as surprised as that time I was in the war museum in Moscow and spotted Siemens hand dryers in the rest room…

While walking around I overheard a guide telling her group that the neighborhood to the right of the Mount of Olives, Silwan I believe, has grown tremendously since 1967.  It’s an Arab ‘hood, and she said that the Arabs there have moved in because of the benefits of having a stable, single political administration, instead of the pre-1967 mess.  Perhaps she’s right, people very often put economics first…still, you’d have to think that the Arabs there would, at the end of the day, love for Jordan to take over the entire city and then they’d be under an Arab government.  Despite Israel governing the entire area for 40+ years, there’s still a lot of tension and I didn’t get the sense that the local Arabs had any love for Israel – particularly not when Gaza was getting nailed.  I imagine there are plenty of ‘moderate’ Arabs who see Israel’s logic and habor no love for Hamas, or the Palestinian Authority – but as I just wrote, I’ll bet 90% of them would love to shift to a decent Arab gov.

Noticed that my clothing’s getting a bit ratty.  Recent launderings have probably accelerated the process – you can never tell which hotel will maul your fave stuff.  Most of my stuff isn’t old at all, I turn things over pretty often.  I guess when I get to Manila I’ll hit British India, Marks & Spencer, and Zara and restock.

One night I watched a group of Asians sitting in Zion Square, singing songs.  Israelis and tourists were all around, watching them too.  This city is a bit of a circus of humanity…and I think lots of tourists are frightened by the randomness of it all.  Not me – I find it captivating and often humorous.  As with Egypt, I’m amazed at how many tourists come here in large groups, and are never by themselves.  They never meet a ‘normal’ local, Arab or Jew, and they go to the same places and have the same experiences.

I went to the Temple Mount a few days after the start of the Gaza bombings, and they had finally reopened it.  I entered, after reading a sign warning visitors that some senior rabbi(s) deem it against Jewish law to go to the Temple Mount – you might step on the Holy of Holies and bring down the wrath of God or something along those lines.  I decided to risk it and went on.  The mount itself really just has two large Islamic buildings now – the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque.  Only Muslims can enter.  I sort of knew that would be the case, but how annoying.  And the dudes at the doors aren’t particularly cool, either – the sites used to be open, 8 or so years ago (I saw a shuttered ticket booth up there), until Ariel Sharon did his infamous tour and set off the second intifada.  Or something like that.  The door-guards, when asked why non-Muslims can’t enter, just say ‘you know why.’  Cheeky.

Israel is heavy-handed in many ways, no doubt about it.  But it’s generally not stupid – the Israelis have been quite liberal with the various religions and buildings, and right after the Six Day War they gave control of the Temple Mount’s Muslim sites right back to the Muslims, to the ‘waqf.’  I think it’d be hard to fault Israel in this regard…perhaps they’re just doing it to maintain stability with the Arabs, and to bring in tourist dollars…and if they are, good for them, those are two very good reasons for playing nice.  When Jordan controlled the Old City, Jews couldn’t get near it.

So I was pissed off that I couldn’t get into the Dome of the Rock, where, supposedly, sits an ancient rock called the Foundation Rock.  This rock is where, hmmm, Adam was created by God…Abraham was about to sacrifice Isaac…the two temples were centered…Mohammed rose to heaven…and the Divine Presence remains forever.  There’s a cave under the rock where Mohammed prayed, and I imagine other things (supposedly) happened there as well.

The Temple Mount itself is a fairly large manmade plateau (used to be an irregular hill, but was filled in by King Herod), with the two Muslim edifices and some Muslim schools built into the retaining walls.  It’s an expansive and peaceful place, with lots of empty space and trees, and it’s hard to imagine all the violence caused by those wanting their hands on it.

I walked around for a while…eventually hired a guide to show me around…he was fairly useless and couldn’t get me inside the two sites.  So I did what comes naturally to me – I bribed a guard who looked like a reasonable guy, and he went inside with my camera and took some decent pics.  Didn’t cost me much, and hey, there was no entry fee for the Temple Mount itself, so I considered it even.  Still, the photos are only somewhat useful, I wasn’t actually there so can’t compare them with my memory.  So I looked online and found this video created by a Jewish tourist who somehow snuck in there, it’s very helpful and covers not only the Dome of the Rock (with Foundation Rock and cave underneath) and the Al-Aqsa Mosque, but also Solomon’s Stables, which also seems to be off-limits to us heathens…

http://switch3.castup.net/cunet/gm.asp?ClipMediaID=85443&ak=null&nb=1

Now I have a much better sense of what the Foundation Rock looks like, for what it’s worth.

A few shots of the Temple Mount:

Before I conducted my bribery operation, I had walked by a Muslim woman sitting on a step.  As I walked by she put out her hand to beg for money – I was pissed off about not gaining entry to the sites and shot her a nasty look.  I think I was falling into the age-old trap, and really should be better about not lumping things together.  It’s not the poor woman’s fault that the religious-political issues of the day are so messy…

Temple Mount visited, I took a cab to the Israel Museum to check that out.  The main hall was closed for renovations, but the ‘Shrine of the Book’ was open.  This hall has various Dead Sea scrolls, including the famed Great Scroll of Isaiah, which is 3-4 meters long and very clear – I could read some of the Hebrew on it.  On one of the walls there was a list of sponsors – noticed the Marc Rich Foundation was a prominent donor.  Remember him?  Bill Clinton pardoned him a day or so before leaving office – caused quite a stir.

Outside was a huge panorama display of Second Temple Jerusalem:

There was also a children’s museum on premise, I walked by and noticed there was an exhibit called ‘Blue and White Pages,’ a reference to the colors of the Israeli flag.  Went in, not expecting much of interest – and was instantly proved wrong.  They had the original Israeli Declaration of Independence…a page with song lyrics (Song of Peace) that was in Yitzhak Rabin’s pocket when he was assassinated, and is soaked with his blood…various official correspondence relating to the 1967 War…the diary of Ilan Ramon, the Israeli astronaut on the space shuttle Columbia, they found a few pages scattered around in Texas…and quite a few other fascinating paraphernalia.  Certainly not an exhibit just for the kiddies – it was a terrific synopsis of Israel’s brief history and I could have spent hours in that one large room.

But was in a bit of a hurry, unfortunately.  That was really the only gripe I had about Jerusalem, there’s so much to see, and my predilection is to see a lot wherever I go, that I was always pressed for time.  I took no naps and in general got little sleep during my 5 days there…and will go back for another couple days so I can try to see a bit more of the West Bank.  More on that in a bit.

Was now heading to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum.  Took a cab there, it was starting to rain and it was a bit far off.  The cabbie’s meter was (supposedly) busted and he quoted me a high price, which I managed to bargain down a bit – I was therefore not a fan of his from the get-go.  But it was raining and I had little leverage, so said OK.  En route he asked me why I wanted to go to a museum about a 60-year-old holocaust when I could go, with him, to Gaza and see the latest thing.  Hmmm – hadn’t been sure of his ethnicity but now I knew.  Impertinent fucker – I wanted to reach over and snap his neck, but held my tongue and counted to ten.  Then I told him I’d be glad to go to Gaza for as long as he liked, if he’d come with me inside Yad Vashem for a couple hours.  I didn’t say that I, like nearly all Jews, lost relatives in the Holocaust – I didn’t lose my cool, although very angry.  He gave me a weak smile and declined.  The only thing I said after that is that everything’s connected and if he wanted to truly understand what’s going on today, you have to understand what happened 60 years ago.

We reached the museum – he said ‘have a nice time’ as I got out.  Again, I wanted to break his neck, but kept my cool – I think it was mostly a case of his English being bad and him not really meaning to provoke me.  I gave him zero tip, but over here that’s pretty normal and I got no merit or demerit points from that action…

Things like this happen all the time here.  People who dislike intensity and confrontation – don’t come.

Yad Vashem itself was as harrowing as they come.  They tell the story of the Holocaust from every angle, and have loads of video testimony from survivors.  Not a dry eye in the place.  I won’t say much more, only that I’d like to see something similar created for the Armenians and the Rwandans.  Yad Vashem devotes a fair amount of space to other groups murdered by the Nazis – namely Gysies, homosexuals, and the handicapped.  I think that’s important – it might be that people only have mental space to cover one genocide, but I believe that acknowledging and publicizing other genocides serves to reinforce the general need to prevent any more from ever happening.  I don’t think that Jews should want to ‘own’ this entire space, despite the Holocaust being by far the single largest genocide in history.

Walked over to the Theodore Herzl Museum afterwards, I had a booking to do the tour there.  The museum has a multimedia history of Herzl’s life and his Zionist vision – pretty remarkable guy and it’s just incredible that his vision came true decades later.

On the grounds of Mt. Herzl there’s the man’s tomb.  A group of young soldiers was visiting it when I walked over.  Fairly simple structure.  Nearby is a cemetery with the notables in Israeli history, including Golda Meir, Yitzhak Rabin, and others.  At Rabin’s tomb there was a group of Spaniards being guided around – I recalled being at the Alhambra in Granada with friend Ken and reading, hung over and stunned, about Rabin’s assassination.

Walked all the way back to the Old City, took nearly 3 hours, included a beer stop.  Got a much better sense of the city’s layout – one of the world’s most hilly cities, methinks.  And some very distinct neighborhoods – it may be one of the world’s oldest cities, but it’s still coming together as people move in.

Shots of the Old City:

Got back to the Damascus Gate.  Lots of teenagers hanging around – sensed some tension in the air.  Went back to the hotel, the TV was on in the lobby and scenes from the Gaza bombings were being shown.  Talked for a while with the manager, with whom I was becoming friendly – she’s an American who moved to Jerusalem some time ago.  One of the owners (or perhaps it was the night manager), an Arab fellow, was inveighing against Israel for the bombings.  Seemed very bitter – so it goes.  Later I heard that there was some stone-throwing near the Damascus Gate, and a few bottles were broken, but nothing that really got out of hand.  Gotta keep an eye out round here…

Next day, took an all-day tour covering a few places which are hard to reach on your own.  Started at Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.  You can see the caves and the digs, where they’ve uncovered structures from the sectarians who lived there:

There’s also a small museum with some fragments of the scrolls, but the more impressive stuff is at the Israel Museum.

At a pit stop I noticed a vendor selling Dr. Brown’s Black Cherry Soda – an obvious attempt to appeal to New York Jews.  Dr. Brown’s is awesome stuff, but I’ve never seen it outside the States…

Spent part of the day with Corinne, a Jamaican-Canadian who now lives in L.A.  On our next stop, Masada, we took the cable-car up and then did a circuit of the top of the mountain.  Larger than I expected – certainly a place where thousands could live and hold out for a while.  Huge store-rooms where they kept the food and drink.  The coolest part – I hate to say it – was the side of the fortress where the Romans built a massive ramp road and then pulled up the siege tower, which eventually helped them breach the wall and take the mountain.  By then, of course, all but a few people had committed suicide.  Good to finally see this place – historic and dramatic.

Next stop was the Dead Sea.  Much like the Jordanian side – had to pay to get access to a decent beach area, which was still a bit shabby.  Did my dip in the sea, with a Goldstar beer in hand – washed all the salt water off and moved on.

Final stop – Jericho, perhaps the oldest continuously inhabited city on earth.  The ancient settlement’s now no more than a mound of dirt called Tel es-Sultan – quite disappointing, although given a shovel I think things would get fairly interesting.

There’s a petrol station right next to the mound – a teenager there asked me my name.  I told him, and added the suffix ‘Jordan.’  He seemed to like that – friendly guy.

We stopped and looked up at the Temptation Monastery, where Jesus is said to have spent 40 days fasting and matching wits with the devil.  Or something like that.

The other major stop in town was Hisham’s Palace, built 1200 years ago by one of the first caliphs.  Interesting, but I’ve seen my share of ruins – Roman and Islamic – and prefer to see the really old stuff from before J.C.

Back to Jerusalem.  The other tourists in the minivan were from a bunch of different European countries, including one funny Dutch family who’d lived in Kenya and some other random spots.  The teenaged Dutch girl had her iPod Nano out and was playing something at top volume – turned out to be ‘In This City’ by Iglu & Hartly, my current favorite song, recommended to me by brother-in-law Dave (with whom I just had a Skype videcon).  Didn’t know this song was so popular – maybe it’s time to ask Dave for his next set of recs…

Got a call from Ken in Spain, he was making sure I wasn’t partying in Gaza.  We wished each other happy new year.

Back at the hotel, a group of 16 Koreans were checking in.  Torture.  Koreans are a lot of work, and my new friend the manager seemed stressed.  One of the Korean chicks locked herself in the bathroom and couldn’t get out – I looked for a screwdriver but a workman showed up before I found one, and got her out.  The other issue with having a guesthouse full of Koreans – zero camaraderie with other guests.  The next morning, at breakfast, I felt like a leper…but had to laugh when the Koreans pulled out their own food, including bag/cup noodles, kimchi, and various other specialties.  The manager told me that this happens often – a group of Cypriots showed up with tons of their own food, and some South Africans actually came with cooked meat.  Give me a break – open your mind, and your stomach.

Had dinner that night at nearby Amigo Emil, bizarrely named but quite good.  Had musakhan, basically chicken and vegetables rolled in bedoiun bread.  Quite tasty.  And had a starter of hummos, which I could eat almost every day.  Tried a Palestinian beer called Taybeh, which means ‘delicious’ in Arabic – it was pretty good.  And strong – the local beers all seem to be 4.9%.  Gotta watch myself…

I imagine this point has already come through, but it’s very difficult at times to tell who’s Jewish and who’s Arabic.  I think this is an important point – we are brothers and even when brothers fight, it shouldn’t last forever.

Went back to Dublin Pub in the city center for a couple beers.  Let the cute bartender talk me into ordering a couple Guiness – they had a drawing for a TV and you’re entered if you down 2 of these.  I don’t like Guinness, but hadn’t had one in memory and decided to give it another chance.  After the first one I was already bloated…after the second slightly nauseous.  My stomach is built for regular lager beer, and a few other potions – not heavy flat breadlike swill.  Sorry, Guinness, you’ve seen my back.  Now I’d better win that damn TV…

Have run all the way round the Old City walls twice – it’s about 4 km and the backside is brutally hilly.  Tremendous workout – I got back the other night and the hotel manager teased me, saying that if I got in even better shape the Israeli Defense Forces might forcibly recruit me.  Right…

Spent my last full day in Jerusalem (this round) seeing a bunch of sights on my list.  First, the Mount of Olives.  At the base is the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus was supposedly (am I getting predictable here?) arrested.  There’s also a Grotto nearby – went into that and saw the entire Korean horde from my hotel, sitting for a mass being led by a Korean priest speaking in mediocre English.  Very random and funny – you couldn’t make this stuff up.

The Garden, with its collection of 2,000+ year old olive trees – some of the oldest trees on the planet:

There’s a church/monastery next door where the Virgin Mary is (supposedly) buried.

Walked up the hill, stopped at various churches along the way.  At the top I got a bit confused – was looking for the ‘Church of the Ascension’ from where Jesus (supposedly) ascended to heaven.  But there was a (closed) Russian Ascension Church, and then a ‘Chapel of the Ascension’ which was actually a mosque with a small domed building next door – this had a (supposed) massive Jesus footprint and I think this is the supposed ascension spot.  I had thought there was a climbable tower on site, but now I think it’s actually in the Russian Ascension Church.  Are you following this?  Plus, it was raining hard and pretty cold out – not a great day for sight-seeing.  But I had scheduled this day to see these places and I was sticking to my plan.

On the city side of the Mount of Olives the slope is full of Jewish graves – apparently this is where Judgement Day events will take place and it’s best to reserve a front-row spot.  It’s written that on Judgement Day all humanity will stand on the Mount of Olives, with God over on the Temple Mount.  Two bridges will appear and span the Kidron Valley/Valley of Jehoshaphat below – one paper, one iron.  God will choose who goes on what bridge – eventually the iron bridge will collapse, carrying away those on it.  Uh-huh.  Good yarn, anyways…

Not much room left in this cemetery, it’s pretty full.  Book your place now!

Tried to visit a tomb where 3 prophets (supposedly) are buried, but it was closed.  Oh well.

Spent a good amount of time down in the valley between the Old City and the Mount of Olives.  I really wanted to explore this area, it’s a bit wild and not many tourists visit it, you wouldn’t go there on Day 1, its more of a Day 4-5 place and not many people are in town that long.  Good.  I thought it was terrific and felt like a little kid playing in it…

The Kidron Valley has some ancient tombs – one’s (supposedly) for Absalom, King David’s treacherous son who tried to overthrow him.  The tomb/pillar drips with history, even if Absalom isn’t the one interred there.  Another tomb is for Jehoshaphat, an ancient King of Judah.  Atmospheric…and I was the only person I could see in the entire valley.  I had the sense that this place was the secret heart of the city…

Back up to the Old City.  Checked out the Tower of David Museum, which covers in extensive detail the history of Jerusalem.  It’s an old Crusader tower built over some First Temple and Second Temple/Hasmonean walls – a sprawling place that was well worth the visit.  I think I’ve finally got a good sense of the history of the city, and of the Jewish people.  Only took me 41 years…

Walked by a place called Moses Art Café.  The owner came up to me – I asked him what the ‘Moses Sandwich’ was and he told me – sounded like the usual felafel plus hummos/salad pita.  I asked how much – he said 45 shekels, about US$12.  I laughed and walked away.  He appealed to me to come back, but I just won’t deal with thieves like that.  Twelve bucks for a sandwich that should go for a buck – there really must be some dumb-ass tourists hanging around the Jaffa Gate…

Went back to Mt. Zion to see the Virgin Mary crypt.  Open this time – intriguing place, there was a stone or wooden Mary statue in the center of the room:

Went over to another church nearby, called Peter in Gallicantu, where Jesus was supposedly denied by his apostles, and also later held before his trial.  Terrific views of the Mount of Olives from there.

Then tried to find the grave of Oskar Schindler – but the cemetery was closed.  Oh well:

I’d visited his former factory in Krakow, only to find that it’s now the local office of The Economist magazine.  On the trail of history…I love these interconnections and threads in time.

Final stop on a very busy day of sight-seeing – the Garden Tomb, where some think Jesus was buried.  Scant evidence for this, but there are some believers.  Very nice garden spot a bit outside the Old City, in East Jerusalem.

There’s a cliffside that very vaguely could resemble a skull – the New Testament says that Jesus’s body was taken to Golgotha, the ‘place of the skull.’  Didn’t really see the skull image until I looked at a photo posted right nearby, then at the cliff once more – there really is a decent skull image there…

The supposed tomb’s in a cave – couldn’t make out much in there.  Then again, all caves are a downer – there’s never anything interesting remaining.

Back to the hotel.  It was now New Year’s Eve and I wanted to make a few calls and send some emails.  Had a video call with my sister’s family – saw my nephew and baby niece, whom I’ll finally meet in a few weeks.  That was fun.  Tried to get through to my Dad but no go.  Sent off a few emails and then headed out to dinner with my cousin Sara, who just moved here from Montreal.  Hadn’t seen her in years – she was a right little brat back in the day, but now she’s a normal adult and I found that pretty funny.  Went to an Italian place, had a very nice bottle of local cab sauvignon and caught up with her.  Will probably hang out some more when I get back to Jerusalem near the end of my time in Israel.

She had some event to go to, I moved on to Dublin Pub to celebrate the New Year.  New Year’s Eve is relatively low-key here – you don’t need to book a seat anywhere, at least not that I could see, you can float from place to place and see what you like.  I just sat on a stool and chatted with my neighbors, and did the countdown as usual.  Was happy to finally celebrate a new year in Israel, even if it’s the regular new year and not Rosh Hashanah – at least this was ‘next year in Jerusalem,’ in a sense.

Hit the sack around 2 a.m.  Was moving on to Haifa the next day, didn’t want to have a brutal hangover.  Still, woke up a bit gnarly, the gang of Koreans were checking out early (7 a.m. or so) and they made their share of noise.  I couldn’t get up till around 9, and felt rough – the strong beers had done their damage.  Had breakfast, packed my stuff, said bye to the manager, and was checking out when an absolutely stunning Asian woman walked up to the desk and inquired about a single room.  The manager went to check on that – we started chatting, she asked me where I’m from and I told her Boston.  Turns out she’s Korean but lives in Cambridge.  I put down my pack and had a cup of tea, and told her what I thought she should see in the city – she’d just come in from Amman, only had 2 days, and apparently hadn’t done much research or prep work.  Wound up talking with her for nearly an hour, then realized I had to catch my bus.  Exchanged emails with her, and maybe we’ll see each other when I’m back in Boston in a few weeks.  That’s the great thing about life – these pleasant surprises come out of nowhere.  If I’d left 5 minutes earlier it wouldn’t have happened.

To Haifa, the largest city in the north of the country.  Sat next to a young soldier with a rather imposing M-16 rifle.  Got to the city in a couple hours, got to my hotel, the very welcoming Port Inn.  Checked in and walked around the city a bit, listening to my latest music download, ‘Flower Power’ by KickBong – check it out.  Will end this post here and update you on Haifa and other spots in next week’s entry.  Till then, Happy New Year and stay cool.  BTW, the total page count of this slog is now (at least as counted in Microsoft Word) at 1,006 pages – got it over the line in this entry – yowza.  Over and out.

My time in Dahab quickly became a question of going diving or doing nothing.  Both were equally enjoyable.  Spent a fair amount of time with George and Grace, the Brits staying in the room next door.  We went out for beers at the boat-shaped Tota Bar, which was pretty much the only nightlife option in town.  The two of them inhaled a number of cocktails (it was Ladies’ Night and Grace could get 2 for 1), I stuck to beer.  We all stumbled out of there a bit woozy.

Friday rolled around, the Muslim Sabbath, and even less got done.  Typically the Internet is very slow that day – half the country is surfing the net before going to mosque.  But this particular Friday was especially bad – then we came to learn that an undersea cable had been cut between Italy and Africa, bringing the system to a standstill.  It would take another day and a half to fix things.  I’d been through something like this before, in Goa, and it was a pain.  I felt bad for people who were under the gun to make travel plans and the like – I had plenty of time and didn’t get that fussed about being relegated to the entirely physical world…

The Brits and I had signed up for an overnight trip to Ras Mohamed National Park, a dive mecca on the south tip of Sinai.  We had to pay up front and hand them our gear at 5 p.m. Friday – we’d depart Dahab at 11 p.m.  We didn’t know much more than that, except that two of the three dives would be on the famed British wreck HMS Thistlegorm, sunk during WW2 and supposedly an incredible wreck to dive.

Walking down the street that evening, I noticed the crazed Austrian redheaded woman from the long bus ride between Cairo and St. Katherine’s.  I was desperate to avoid any sort of encounter, so I turned away and took the next corner.  I had sort of known that I hadn’t seen the last of her, but I was trying to be optimistic.  And now I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear…

Saudi Arabia is just across the Gulf of Aqaba – about 20 km away.  The Saudi coastline, like the Egyptian/Sinai coastline, is mountainous – all part of the same Great Rift of Africa geography.  This part of the world is also politically fascinating – Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi all come together within a few km.

The Ras Mohamed trip loomed.  First, we met at a travel agency and got in a minivan that took us to Sharm El-Sheikh, 90 minutes drive.  Tried to sleep during the ride.  Then we reached a marine, and boarded a mediocre-looking ship.  About 25-30 of us were paying customers, plus there were some divemasters and crew.  They had us set up our equipment for the first dive, at 8 a.m. the next morning, and then gave us bedding so that we could lie out on the upper deck and sleep.  I had brought my silk bag liner and that helped keep me pretty warm (and clean – the bag was dodgy).  The boat sat there till about 4 a.m., when it left the marina and headed to the marine park.  I think I woke up briefly when we started moving, but otherwise slept quite well.  Grace, sleeping near me, didn’t wake up at all – George and I were amazed at her propensity for sleep.

The entire bus/waiting boat/moving boat process seemed a bit overwrought, but I guess it’s necessary to deliver you 1) to Rash Mohamed early in the morning, in time to dive the wreck before hordes of other dives show up, and 2) to allow you to get at least a few hours of sleep.  And to be truthful, it was a good adventure – particularly in hindsight, like many such adventures.

Had a quick breakfast, then did our first dive on the Thistlegorm.  Mohamed, our guide, wanted to size us up, so this dive was largely outside the wreck.  We had Jan, a Dutchman, and two clueless Japanese on our little team.

My camera had been acting up ever since it got wet a couple days before…and now it wasn’t working underwater.  I played with the controls and finally got it going – but none of my underwater pics were all stunning.  Saw some tuna and a few other fishies on this dive, but the highlight was of course the wreck itself.

Back to the boat.  Had a second breakfast – fuul, eggs and shamy (pita) never tasted so good.  Had to endure some aimless bantering by a couple of San Diegans who were wandering the world in search of divemaster jobs.  These two were nice enough, but they seemed to spend 90% of their time with grins pasted onto their faces, no matter the situation or topic.  I hate overly smiley people – being happy is one thing, but I think it’s unnatural to smile all the fucking time.  We soon learned that they’d both had some teeth-whitening procedure – maybe they felt compelled to show off the results and justify the expense?

Just for once I’d like to meet some countrymen who are a) reasonably mature, and 2) relatively worldly.  It seems the vast majority of Americans I meet abroad are like the kiddies in the St. Katherine’s cafeteria (who were full of factoids but no organizing themes or real wisdom), or empty-headed older folks who don’t seem to have taken anything in from their travels, and act like they’re in a mall in New Jersey.  The San Diegans must have said ‘re-ally?’ every 30 seconds, and of course had the Valley Girl speech impediment that started in California and has spread across the country.

I thought I was perhaps being too hard on the San Diegans – to be fair, they were nice folks.  But later on George mentioned them and brought up their constant grinning – I felt like less of a Grinch on hearing his impression.

Second dive was one of the best in memory.  I left my camera on the ship and just focused on the diving.  We spent 20 minutes inside the wreck, going back and forth, up and down.  We went through a section full of encrusted jeeps and trucks, full of motorbikes being sent to the troops in the Levant.  At certain points it was a tight squeeze and I had to pull myself along using the old tires of the bikes – the rubber treads on some still looked road-worthy.  Obviously not General Motors products…

Mohamed, our guide, took us one by one up into an air compartment – but told us not to breath the air as it was 60+ years old and probably not good for you.  The compartment was small, but it was still a trip to be so far underwater and in a space with air, not water.

We were down there so long, at 25 meters, that we were all a bit low on air as we hurried up to do our safety stop at 5 meters.  I finished my safety stop low on air – I was sucking fumes as I floated up to the surface.  I’ve done this 2-3 times before, not a big deal – but you don’t want to get caught out and start your safety stop too late, otherwise you’ll feel like holding your breath and that’s not kosher when you’re ascending.  I’ve gone diving so many times I feel very confident in various situations…but I don’t want to get too lazy underwater.

Had lunch before the third dive.  Decent enough food – kofta (meatballs), hummos, salad, chicken, etc.

Last dive was a drift dive from Shark Reef to Yolanda Reef.  Much more mellow, but lots of marine life.  Saw an enormous Napoleonfish, perhaps the most beautiful fish I’d ever seen.  Look it up online to see what I mean.  Also saw a manta lying on the bottom.  All in all, a good dive.

Came back to the boat, a little fried from all the diving.  The boat headed back to Sharm and most of us lounged in the sun and took a few photos.  The area really is spectacular.

Disembarked, carrying my pack and gear.  Later on I noticed that I’d left my North Face fleece on the ship…and despite attempts to get it back, I never did.  Someone’s wearing it as I write this, no doubt.  Hmm.  In Japan, it would have turned up immediately — with an apology for the delay in getting it back, no less — but I guess that’s not the case in Egypt.  I haven’t had any other problems like this here…I guess it’s my bad.  Oh well – I had a lot of other things to carry, and I was woozy from the diving.  I guess I’m fortunate I didn’t leave any real valuables behind.  Still, that fleece has been with me since I started this journey and I need to get a new one when in Tel Aviv.

Bad things do clump together.  My camera was dodgy from the leak…I had had to buy a new dive computer battery..and now my parka was gone.  The only course of action is to get over this stretch of bad luck and deal with all these things straightaway…which is my natural reaction, anyway.

Noticed (thanks to my Treo) that it was the third anniversary of my final day at work, December 20, 2005.  It was also the first night of Hanukkah, and the Winter Solstice to boot.  Perhaps good things clump together too…

Ride back to Dahab was fine.  We were all exhausted and didn’t do much the rest of the night.  Got up the next day and hit the Internet hard – wanted to make a number of hotel and flight bookings, managed to get everything done in a few hours.  Used some American Express points to get a free car rental in Boston and a free train ticket from New York to Boston.  Over the past three years, I’ve probably used 65-70% of my credit card points, but still have a fair amount remaining.  Good cushion to have in hard times.

Also emailed new Turkish friend Erol in Tel Aviv…we met diving in Kas, Turkey, and agreed to hang out in TA if possible.  He wrote back and was welcoming – and in fact mentioned that he and his wife were wondering where I was and if I’d already gone back to work.  Not yet, brother…

George and Grace were taking off that evening – we said our goodbyes.  I was happy I’d decided to stay at Penguin Village, it’s a communal sort of place and a terrific hangout.  We’d hit it off nicely and had fun diving and drinking – I got their emails and will drop them a line soon.

Sent off a few emails to the Israel Hash House Harrier clubs, checking on their upcoming runs.  They got right back to me – Israelis are good that way.  But when I tried to make online bookings at hotels in Tel Aviv and Jersusalem, that didn’t work as well, and I needed to ring them and finalize the bookings.  I love the Internet but am not about to forgo getting SIM cards in the countries I visit – I always need to make at least a few phone calls, and I feel somewhat naked without being reachable (is that a word?).

Didn’t bother with any of the desert activities in Dahab.  You can rent a 4×4 and go tooling around in the desert, or join a camel safari, or a million other options.  I’d already spent a lot of time in various deserts – the Gobi in Mongolia, Great Thar (Rajasthan), Wadi Rum in Jordan – and preferred to be near the ocean and with a book in hand.

Noticed while walking along the ocean promenade that they’d uncovered the remains of the ancient port here.  Dahab was under the control of the Nabateans, who also created Petra – this was where they brought in and sent their goods.  I was getting a decent sense of how this place was set up two thousand years ago.  The modern-day political borders are nearly meaningless in the historical perspective.

Went for one more dive, to Abu Hilal, a beach dive – good change of pace from the Ras Mohamed boat dives, with the crowded conditions on board.  The dive lasted nearly an hour.  Came up refreshed and satisfied – I’d done enough diving now and was ready to move on.

The fat guy manning the diveshop desk asked me to sell him my iPod Shuffle, he’d seen me with in when I went running.  I told him I’d like to, but needed it for exercise.  I think he understood.  I guess it’s still not that easy to get genuine Apple gear in Egypt – but I’m sure you can do it.  Just have an Israeli guest bring one along or ship it there…

Had the guy in the Penguin Internet café make me a CD of local music.  Haven’t listened to it yet, but this is the sort of thing I do far too sporadically.  To be fair, Dahab is particularly well set up for this – there are various ‘music shops’ offering to make you CDs with MP3s…you don’t see this in many other places, I seem to recall Sihanoukville in Cambodia also had these shops, and there were some places in Thailand.

Had a headache from the long dive, took a good nap.  Was happy I was done with the diving, I’d probably done as much as my body could handle.

Had my final Dahab dinner at ChillOut Restaurant.  The food in Dahab isn’t that cheap – particularly when compared to room prices.  I was paying US$15 a night – and a decent resto lunch or dinner was about US$10, without drinks.  Comparing everything to room prices per night is the metric I default to, for better or worse.  I guess the room is the core need, and if you start paying a multiple of that for food, you might be off base.

ChillOut wasn’t cheap, either, but the meal they give you is expansive.  Ordered the chicken kebab – which was preceded by lentil soup, pita, hummos, salad, and accompanied by a ton of vegetables and rice.  I couldn’t come close to polishing this off and waddled from the table.  Even when I try to keep an eye on my diet, I get torpedoed…

Next morning had a final rooftop breakfast at Penguin.  Tried to avoid Hassan, the employee I’d met upon checking in – he has some bizarre belief about the Pyramids being built 70,000 years ago by a race of giants.  I think giants are mentioned in the Bible, but come on.  I got those ‘Chariots of the Gods’ books out of my system when I was 12…

During breakfast got into a discussion with some Aussies and a Belgian dude about politics and the environment.  And it became even more clear to me what an opportunity the US has lost in the past 8 years.  In Belgium they recycle nearly all their waste…when in Japan I had to sort my trash into 3 categories, and did so happily…in Boston there seems to be no recycling scheme, at least not for household waste.  I was stunned to learn that in early 2006, after returning from Asia.  In Belgium (and even in the Thames, in London) fish are coming back and the air is improving – the EU, despite its flaws, is having a positive impact on the environment, and European (and Japanese) companies are far ahead of their US counterparts in this regards.  In the US we’re still trying to figure out how to prompt the carmakers to manufacture smaller models…in Japan and Europe they’re 20-30 years ahead.  I think GM and Chrysler, and probably Ford too, will have to go through bankruptcy and eventually, if they survive, become much smaller, perhaps niche companies.  I hope I’m wrong.

Camera seems to be working fine now.  Need to think about whether to take it diving again – will probably test the case extensively beforehand.  The more crap you have, the more it weighs on you…

Packed up, checked out, and got in a minivan to take me to Taba, on the Israeli border.  An older Aussie guy, Dave, was in the van, and we picked up a few others en route.  I had just read that the Hamas-Israel truce was over and that things might get hot around Gaza.  I trusted my general good luck with things like this – as I’ve written, I usually miss catastrophic events by 2-3 days.  Still, I wouldn’t be hanging around the US Embassy in Tel Aviv or going to huge rock concerts while in Israel…

Had a brief moment of concern looking for my passport, but found it in the bottom of my small pack.  When I lose it, it’s always there.

The Sinai east coast drive is fantastic – you’re wedged between mountains and sea, and right across the gulf is Saudi.  Went by a number of camps and hotels, and lots of half-finished buildings.  In Egypt you don’t pay taxes if they building isn’t ‘complete,’ so you see plenty of such places.  But here I’d chalk it up to lack of tourists – the place was deserted, and a bit eerie.

Dave the Aussie was a nice guy, and well-traveled.  Case in point:  he’d spent a month in Ethiopia.  Anyone who’s been there is generally in my good books.  But he was pretty guileless for a traveler – he had just a few Egyptian pounds on him, had no Israel guidebook or idea where to stay in Eilat, just over the border, and really didn’t seem to have any plan for his 8-10 days in Israel.  And he’s a longtime high school teacher in Oz – I’d have thought a teacher would at least do a bit of research, but not Dave.

Clearing the Egyptian side was easy enough, just had to buy a little exit stamp to put in the passport.  Then went through the X-ray machine – I had to show my Leatherman knife, whereas Dave pulled out a huge machete he’d bought in Ethiopia.  That kept the Egyptians busy for a few minutes.  I wanted to get going, as I hoped to get a bus to Tel Aviv that night.  We moved on – then Dave couldn’t find his exit stamp.  I said I’d catch him up ahead, and walked across no-man’s land to the Israeli entry facility.

The Israelis were quite pleasant – informally dressed, relatively young (I imagine they’re mostly Army conscripts), and friendly.  Got asked a few questions at the first barrier, then walked on to the X-ray machine.  They were amused by my knife – a knife in Israel is a child’s toy.  Then got to the actual Immigration counter – got asked a lot of question there, my passport is so fat that I expect this.

Meanwhile, Dave sailed right through.  I’m Jewish, he’s not, but at the end of the day we’re both white guys from friendly nations.

Shared a taxi to Eilat’s bus station, then cooled my heels there for a couple hours.  Was going to take a shared minivan, but few people opted for that, and these don’t leave till full.  I waited as long as I could, then ran over to the public bus ticket booth and got a ticket for that.  Boarded the bus and we started off.

I had tried to help Dave pick a hotel in Eilat, and pointed him in the right direction.  And the bus station security guard had also given him some ideas.  This guard and I had had a good chat about Israel and the US before I got on the bus.  He had red hair, you don’t see a lot of redheaded Jews around…

The ride through the Negev was interesting.  At certain points there are mini-forests of trees, all planted by hand, in perfect rows.  Reminded me of some pine forests in Japan.  I guess we’re making the desert bloom, but it all looks funny.

A sandstorm came up, and it was hard to see outside the bus window.  And it got dark very early, by 5 p.m.  Slightly depressing winter evening, methinks.  The bus itself was pretty full, and there were a few black people on board.  Were these Ethiopian Jews, I wondered.  Israel was looking a bit more diverse than it had years ago, when I’d briefly visited Tel Aviv.

Got into Tel Aviv around 8:30 p.m.  Took a taxi to my hotel, which was near the sea.  Prices in Israel were quite high, and I was already missing the bargains in Egypt.  At my hotel, the receptionist was brusque (Russian-looking, no surprise), and I had to go to an ATM to get enough cash to pay for my first night.  When I had tried to book this place on the web, they offered short-time/hourly rates, which gave me the impression that this was a ‘no-tell motel,’ i.e. a part-time brothel.  I wasn’t changing my impression just yet.

When I got into my room, I wasn’t any more thrilled – it was pretty ordinary.  But it would do for a few nights – I wasn’t in the mood to hotel-hop.

After a shower headed to Mike’s Bar, nearby.  Sat at the bar near a group of LA teachers and administrators.  I can tell you that school principals aren’t averse to drinking – I wondered now about my primary school principal, Dr. Dittami, if he had any sort of secret life, or at least nightlife.

One principal, Robert, sat there sipping a Sauza tequila.  Nice enough guy, but afflicted with the ‘LA Syndrome,’ i.e. when you talk to someone from LA (or anywhere in Southern Cal), they’re always distracted and their eye contact is limited.  I despise that, and probably would hate living in California for that reason alone.

Had a few local GoldStar Beers – these are a bit dark and highly drinkable.  Recommended.  Bravo Israel!  In general it was nice to be out of the Muslim world, with the two-week India trip excepted, I’d been in Muslim countries for 3 months and it was refreshing to see scantily-clad women and people downing drinks with abandon.  Robby the bartender handed out ‘green machine’ shots and it felt like being in New York or London.

Meanwhile, the weather was shockingly bad – very rainy and windy.  Dahab had been a bit windy, but pretty warm, even at night.  I was missing my fleece and resolved to get one the next morning.  The storm worsened during the night, I sat and had a few more beers until it cleared enough to get back to the hotel.  Perhaps this was the Promised Land, but the weather was shit.

Got up and went out to get a fleece.  Walked by the huge US Embassy, right near my hotel.  Took a photo but didn’t linger.  There’s a seedy little cafe/bar right across the street – interesting juxtaposition with the Embassy.  In other places – Laos, Vietnam, the Philippines, India – the US Embassy is secluded, or at least far from any place where people could plausibly linger.  I guess here in Israel, general security is so tight that it’s easier to put the Embassy in plain view.

Got to the Dizengoff Shopping Center, asked a North Face-clad guy there where he got his, and he pointed to a shop upstairs.  Lots of hiking and camping type stores here – Israelis are real outdoors people.  Bought a Lowe Alpine fleece, not cheap but I need it.

Walked around for a few hours.  Checked out the Carmel Market, an orderly bazaar in the old Yemenite Quarter.  Still raining, so didn’t cover that much ground.  Traded texts with Erol, turned out he had to entertain some (other) foreign guests that night, from his company.  He was off to Istanbul the next day, but will be back January 4^th, so we may see each other again before I leave Israel.

It’s Hannukah now – lots of menorahs everywhere.  Kind of pleasant.

Went back to my hotel.  The guy at the desk (the owner?) whined at me, I hadn’t yet paid for the room that night.  I’d told the guy on duty that morning that I was staying, but I guess the deal is that you must pay in the morning if you’re staying.  My conclusion:  this was, if not a brothel, then a short-time establishment that saw lots of unsavory types looking to run out on their bill.  Oh well – the price was right and I’d be OK.

I later reversed this fellow – we got into a discussion about Israeli politics, I’m fairly well-versed in the country’s history and the current (actually, never-ending) political deadlock.  I think he was surprised I had such command of the topic – and he became much friendlier.  Israelis are like Russians that way – a tough façade, but a warm interior.  Come to think of it, these days about 20%+ of Israelis are Russian…

Christmas Eve.  Not a big deal here – in Jerusalem’s Old City, sure, but not in secular, hedonistic Tel Aviv, where there are at least 6-7 go-go bars around the corner from my hotel, on Allenby Street.  Now I see the brothel/no-tell motel connection…

Went for a run along the sea.  Still rainy, and brutally windy – at times I was running in place.  Managed to stay out for 30  minutes or so, and sweat – when the weather is nice I’ll bet this promenade is packed with joggers.  I’m slowly but surely getting back into shape – I just need to do a better job with my abs and also practice more yoga – when your hotel room is small and crappy, that’s difficult, whereas running just requires a decent outdoors course.

Got back to the room, phone was ringing.  The call was from Mumbai, and concerned the potential job there.  The news was encouraging and good.  Will probably take another 6-8 weeks to get the final OK, but the fact is that they seem to need and want me on board, and it looks likely to happen in some way, before much longer.  Fine by me – I want another couple months off before plunging back in…and if I plunge back in and the plunging is more like dipping my foot in the pool, that’s OK too.

Checked out some local bars.  Minzar Bar is near Carmel Market, and is full of wise guys and writers.  Full of character – if I lived here, I’d spend a fair few nights at Minzar.  It’s woody, a bit seedy, with cute barmaids, old music (Frank Sinatra tonight), and free bar snacks.

Tel Aviv in general has a Miami Beach sort of feel.  The city is only about 100 years ago, there’s lots of Art Deco and Bauhaus everywhere…and the city, at least near the water, has a slightly seedy and rundown feel.  I like it – not too precious.  Perhaps Tel Aviv is the newest/latest Jewish beach city – now that Miami is mostly Cuban.  Although that might not be the case with Miami Beach itself, haven’t been there for years…

Walked over to Café Bialik for a bite.  They were having some live music later on, but I didn’t feel like listening to loud guitars, I had a slight headache from the weather, from drinking the night before, etc.  Had a final drink at Cosa Nostra bar, then headed back to my brothel…er, hotel, to rest.  Christmas Day was here…just another day in Eretz Yisrael.  It was good to be here, and to have some time – why did it take me 41 years for this??  I’d visited such backwaters as Burma and Mongolia, but not Israel – shame on me.

Anyway, now that I was here, I felt a vague sense of belonging, of kinship, of sharing a secret.  I sort of liked the wise-guy mentality and affect of many of the Israelis I was meeting – and it was refreshing to hear their affection for the US, which probably exceeds mine, at least in the political arena.  I think the next couple weeks here will be a real learning experience for me – maybe I’ll even brush off my old Bar Mitzvah Hebrew (I only remember 10 words, at most), and try to attend a Shabbat service/dinner.  My cousin Sarah has studied in Jerusalem, and is returning there in a few days, so hopefully we’ll connect and she can help me get up to speed with this young, old country.  My next post will be in 2009, friends – see you on that side of the calendar.  Over and out.

Last couple days in Goa were spent revisiting some favorite old places.  Drove up to Morjim(ski) Beach, north of the Chapora River.  Parked the bike, went for a swim, had a beer, and then walked up to Mandrem Beach – a very long, unmatched wander that took me past nudist colonies, French cafes, stoner hangouts, and a whole lot of white beaches.  This walk – which extends all the way to Arambol – is one of the best ways to spend a day in Goa, or anywhere for that matter.  You could stretch it out for a couple days and spend the night in Arambol – a holiday within a holiday is one way to look at it.

On the ride back to Vagator I noticed a local kid wearing an AIG t-shirt.  I’m sure he had no idea what ‘AIG’ stands for these days…

Got back to Bean Me Up – Lisa marveled at my newly-acquired tan.  Now I was ready to head back to Egypt and fit right in with the locals.

Checked email – had a note from Garry, the American I’d met in a Yalta bar.  He was just laid off and was now back in Florida, working on his boat and looking for his next gig.  I have to admire his joie de vivre – didn’t seem that unhappy with his lot or lack of a bank balance.  I hope he lands on his feet, but suspect he’s pretty much already there.

Burned a few CDs for Lisa – she’s planning a retro night party at the restaurant and I happen to have a ton of 70s songs that would be perfect.  ‘Afternoon Delight’ by the Starland Vocal Band, anyone?

A friend of Lisa’s was showing a movie in his garden that night, he rigged up a Mac to a projector and sound system and it worked amazingly well.  We went to check it out – the movie was ‘Into the Wild,’ based on the Krakauer book.  I was familiar with the story, but hadn’t read the book or seen the movie.  Pretty compelling, and tragic.  I admired the protagonist’s independence and backbone…but at the same time there’s no way that a 22-year-old kid knows enough about life to justify having the confidence he had in himself.  I suppose I can’t prove that assertion…but in this story the kid dies in the Alaskan woods, and if you replayed the story 100 times I think it would end badly in 90 of them.  Anyway, the movie was quite good and I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the book.

Saturday rolled around – went over to Lisa and Richard’s to have a beer and say goodbye.  This is becoming an annual event – I hate saying goodbye and making a production out of it, but I think I’ll keep returning to Goa each winter, even if only for a week or two.  And if this job comes through in Mumbai, I might be down there a hell of a lot.  So this time wasn’t that sad – it had been a terrific week and I had some good memories to tide me through the long bus rides I had coming up in Egypt and Israel.

Flew up to Mumbai, had a lengthy layover which wasn’t looking to be much fun, not at the detestable Sahar Airport.  But, to my general astonishment, the eternal work they’ve been doing on the airport has come a ways – there are now some decent places to eat, a ‘Bombay Blue Bar’ with cold beer, and a look and feel that approximates ‘normal’ airports around the world.  They still have much to do, but now spending a few hours at Sahar isn’t the exercise it once was.

Connected to my Cairo flight at 2:30 a.m.  Flights seem to get into and depart from Indian airports at the ugliest hours.  Egypt has the same issue.  As the plane took off, an Exit sign on the ceiling fell to the floor.  A metaphor for the flight??  I hoped not.

Had a tough time sleeping, the econo seats were child-sized and I wasn’t that tired.  Probably got an hour of sleep during the 5-6 hour flight, was a bit woozy when we landed.

Landing in these countries when it’s dark isn’t optimal – the thieving cabbies are right on you, you’re tired from the journey, and it’s not that easy to shop around for a good deal.  But I’d done this once before here at Cairo Airport, so had a solid price to quote…which I eventually got.  Rode into town, checked into Hotel Luna – but as it was only 6:30 a.m., had to wait a few hours to get into my room.  Watched a couple episodes of ‘Heroes’ on the old laptop to while away the time.  Never hard to spend a few hours – always something to do/read/watch.

Had a coffee at A l’Americaine Coffee Shop, a classic place that’s probably 70 years old, at least.  Did some computer stuff, then collapsed in bed for a huge huge nap – didn’t get up till the sun had gone down.  Thankfully I hadn’t planned a big day around town – perhaps I’m becoming more realistic / aware of my limitations.  It’s hard to strike the right balance between seeing/doing everything and being kind to your body and mind…

Had beers and dinner at Estoril.  Ordered some kibbeh, which are meat-filled bulgur wheat balls – one of the best things to eat over here.  The Sadat-lookalike barman was glad to see me – I love these characters, there are at least a few in every capital city.  Cairo has more than its fair share – the place is incredibly retro, there seems to be very little innovation here.  Proof:  numerous billboards and ads for Chevrolet cars.

Am reading ‘The Yacoubian Building’ by Alaa Al Aswany, an Egyptian dentist who wrote this book a few years ago.  It quickly became a top-seller and he’s now a famous novelist, at least in the Arab world.  The book’s about a well-known building on a main Downtown street, namely the characters who live and work there.  It’s sort of an Egyptian soap opera, the writing is good not stunning, but the stories are intriguing and it all hangs together nicely.  Almost finished with it – it’s giving me some good insights into Egyptian life under the surface.

Got a Facebook friend request from a high school classmate whom I haven’t seen or even thought of since the moment we graduated in 1985.  I guess this is why I deal with all the email traffic arising from Facebook – you can recapture the most obscure memories without doing anything.  That said, I noticed that one of my ‘friends’ has 931 ‘friends.’  And I thought I had trouble staying in touch with people – I have to reject the very idea of 931 ‘friends.’

After Estoril, went to Zemalek, a neighborhood on an island in the Nile.  Had a beer at Deals Pub and then walked around a bit.  Zemalek is an upscale ‘hood and I had wanted to get a feel for the place.  Despite spending the equivalent of 5-6 days in Cairo, and seeing a fair amount, I’d also been consumed with errands (read:  Indian visa) and felt that I hadn’t seen enough of the city.  Oh well.

Walked back to Downtown, and finished the night at the Odeon Palace Hotel, which has a popular rooftop bar.  The hotel itself is old and creaky, as is the bar.  Just a few folks hanging out, smoking and drinking.  Had a Stella beer and called it a night.  Last night in Cairo – fairly entertaining, if a bit quiet.

Next morning, before checking out, had breakfast at the hotel.  Sat across from an American woman, Liz, who turned out to be an Egyptologist.  She was going to see Zahi, the head of the Antiquities Board – this fellow is one of the big names in Egypt and does not lack an ego – he has a monthly piece in Egypt Air’s magazine which outlines his exploits and claims.  Turns out Liz studied for a while at Tufts – small world.

Checked the NFL scores – the Pats won big.  They’re doing pretty well despite their injuries – I don’t expect them to go that far in the playoffs, but if they do I won’t be too surprised.  The team is solid and they could always get lucky.

Meanwhile, the Celtics are absolutely kicking tail – they’ve won 16 in a row and are off to their best start EVER.  That’s really saying something, given the spectacular teams they’ve fielded over the years.  It’s tough to play so well after you win a ring, but they’re doing it.  But it’s still early in the season and we’ll have to see what happens down the stretch.

Took a bus to Sinai – wanted to visit St. Katherine’s Monastery and climb Mt. Sinai.  The bus left Cairo Gateway Station around 11 a.m., and promptly broke down a few kilometers outside the city.  Ugh.  Had wanted to get to St. K’s before sunset, but that wasn’t to be.  We sat there and waited for a backup bus to come, that took a couple hours.  Plus I was sitting next to a fat local guy and he was oozing into my seat.  Charming.

Eventually a crappy backup bus came and we boarded it.  Then it was another 7-8 hours to go.  Across the aisle from me was a volube Dutch guy named Nico – he had lived in Yemen for 4 years and now lived in Mozambique, his wife’s a doctor with the Dutch Embassy and they spend time in some obscure places.  Cool.  We got on well and decided to climb Mt. Sinai the next morning at 3 a.m.

I had a booking at the Monastery Guesthouse – the one place that’s within the confines of St. K’s and within easy reach of the mountain.  Nico seemed keen to try to get a room there too.  I’d made a booking two weeks before, worried that the onset of the holidays would make walk-ins difficult.

Nico had learned that an older British fellow sitting a few rows up had been to the Monastery before and I picked his brain about the place and about climbing the mountain.  He proved to be a font of knowledge – more on him in a bit.

Sitting behind Nico was an odd redheaded Austrian woman who became more annoying by the hour.  She was an accomplished traveler (and had been to Yemen), and her thing was that she never booked a room in advance.  Whatever, lady.  Within an hour or two she had latched onto Nico and I, and the Brit, who told us that the Guesthouse always sent a cab to meet our bus and fetch its guests.  So by the time we finally got to the village near St. K’s, we had more than a full house – the redhead had also roped in an Indian guy and his mother to come with us.

I was by now cranky – the ride was late, I had had to sit next to the fat guy the entire time, I was sick of the redhead (who couldn’t stop gabbing, in weird Austrian German to boot), we had gone through 5 or 6 checkpoints (there have been terror attacks out here and the police are on edge), and I wanted to climb Mt. Sinai at 3 a.m.  It was already past 8 p.m.

The cabbie was waiting for us.  We piled in – I felt bad for the Brit, who had generously told us about this service and was now forced to squeeze in the third row of seats in the station wagon.  We had to endure a final checkpoint before entering the Monastery Grounds.  Checkin was messy – but they finally got me, the Brit, and Nico into rooms.  The redhead and the Indians weren’t happy with the price – they took the cab back to the village to stay in cheaper digs.  Eminently predictable – they wound up making the rest of us miserable.  Nico and I joked about the ride and the annoyances, and had dinner in my room – the staff brought us a very nice spread and I bought a couple beers in the store, which was open round-the-clock for the pilgrims and the climbers.

St. Katherine’s is probably the oldest Christian monastery in the world.  There has been a religious site here since the 3^rd century A.D., and a formal monastery since the 6^th, when Emperor Justinian built this monastery.  It’s a well-trafficked pilgrimage site, and many tourists come to climb Mt. Sinai, behind the monastery.  There’s your quickie history lesson.

Finished dinner, traded a few more stories with Nico, mostly about how crazy the redhead was (I was happy he had the same impression) then we went to sleep.  It was 10:30 p.m. and it had been a relentlessly long day, longer than expected.  But now it was passing into legend and as you can probably tell, I got a few stories from the ordeal.

Alarm woke me at 2:30 a.m.  Got my warm clothes on, put on my headlamp, got my flashlight, and went to Nico’s room to get him.  He was already up and getting ready.  Shouldered our packs and went to the back side of the monastery to start the hike.

We followed what looked to be the proper path – didn’t see any signs, but the route corresponded with what we’d been told the night before by staff.  Walked for about 40 minutes and eventually came to a door in the side of the mountainside – dead end.  We’d erroneously followed a path to one of the small monasteries in the hills around St. K’s – not the path to Mt. Sinai.  Yikes.  And our goal was to make sunrise at the top of Mt. Sinai – which was due around 5:30 or so.  It was now about 4 a.m.  The hike was supposed to take 2.5 hours – we’d clearly fucked up and would be hard-pressed to come through on time.

We recovered our composure and found a weak path that took us back to the valley floor.  We saw some lights in the distance and went towards those – presumably they were the flashlights of people who actually knew where they were going.  We eventually met them, they were Russians with a guide, coming down from a night atop the mountain.  We were indeed on the proper path, now all that remained was getting to the top on time.

I’m not in the best shape, but I set a hard pace and Nico kept up.  We soon started passing other climbers, mostly Japanese decked out in the latest climbing/cold weather gear.  Exchanged some Japanese greetings and motored on.  We were on a mission from God, as it were.  And soon it became clear that the peak wasn’t far off – there were Bedouins renting out mattresses and blankets.  Many people spend the night atop the mountain, and it’s very cold up there.

Got to the top – checked my watch and it was only 5:10, we had made the climb in 70 minutes.  The Brit had told me the record for the climb was 39 minutes, by a Russian guy.  We weren’t close to that, but had done pretty damn well.  And we were there before sunrise.

Lots of people up there – pilgrims playing the guitar, religious freaks praying to the rising sun, Japanese people milling around without much clue about the religious significance of Mt. Sinai.  As for me, I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie ‘History of the World Part 1,’ with Mel Gibson, specifically the scene with Moses dropping the tablet with commandments #11-15.  I just can’t take these things too seriously…

Sun soon came up – superb views of nearby peaks, random people at the summit, and the valley below:

It was very cold and we only stayed up there for an hour or so.  I felt a vague sense of history and mystery, and wondered if Moses had really ‘done his thing’ up here.  As with Mt. Nebo in Jordan.

Climbed back down to the monastery.  Ran into David the Brit at breakfast – he was amazed at our tale, about getting lost and then recovering to climb the mountain in 70 minutes.  I do have a history of fast climbs – in the Himalayas in 2006 my guides had marveled at my ascent of the Indrahar Pass.  I just might need to try to break the Mt. Sinai record one day…

David turned out to be even more interesting than I had expected.  He’s a scholar who’s trying to pinpoint the route of the historical Exodus of the Jews from Egypt.  He was getting into things like the water consumption of the Jews as they fled Egypt, about the path through the Red Sea, etc.  This place was obviously of huge significance for his studies, the Jews supposedly camped for a long while on the Plains of Raha, just outside the monastery and obviously quite near Mt. Sinai, where Moses supposedly received the 10 Commandments.  Nico and I listened to David for a while – also seated at our table were two American women, one a history prof, who from time to time interjected comments that struck me as very academic and not that helpful to the discussion.  At one point one of the women made the point that Egypt was part of the Byzantine Empire – which was correct, but which had nothing much to do with what we were talking about.  British people are really far more skilled in conversation and rhetoric than we Americans are.  At least some of us Americans know when to keep our mouths shut and be thought of as semi-intelligent…

David offered to show us round the monastery and we were happy to follow him.  I was checking out that afternoon and heading to Dahab, on the Sinai.  I had considered staying for longer, but really wanted to get to the shore and do some diving.  And it was pretty cold here in the interior of the Sinai – it was a case of the age-old question of leaving too early or staying too long.  Not much to do here besides chill (in the cold), climb the mountain or tour the grounds.  David took us around and showed us the highlights, which included, seriously, a huge bush that is supposedly the ‘burning bush’, or descendant of the famous bush, from which God spoke to Moses.  Wild stuff…

Nearby was a well at which Moses supposedly met Jethro, whose daughter he later married:

You’ve probably noticed that we’re dealing with lots of ‘supposedlys’ here.  That’s not a mistake.

Also checked out the Church of the Transfiguration, an ornate, beautiful place.  Then walked around the outer walls of the monastery and looked at the many different types of crosses carved on the walls.  The entire tour was a grand history lesson by David and Nico and I were grateful we’d met such a knowledgeable dude – we got well beyond the info provided by Lonely Planet, and I wish I’d meet more people like him.  I hope his research succeeds and he uncovers some exciting new info to share with all of us.

Took a cab to Dahab – pricey but the bus sked was suspended so had no option.  Took an hour or so, great ride through the Sinai Desert.

While riding to Dahab, thought about next year, and wondered what it would bring.  I’ll keep traveling through the early part of the year, but what about after that?  Would I be back at work, putting on a suit and tie?  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn a tie, or even if I had any in storage.  Oh well, will cross that bridge when I come to it…

One more month till Bush is gone.  I’m not one to root for time to pass, generally, but I won’t be sad on January 20^th 2008.

It got much warmer as we came upon the coast and descended.  My pores opened up and reached for the sun’s rays…I sat back and let my head sink onto the headrest.  It had already been a long, weird day – arising at 2:30 a.m., getting lost, recovering and cranking up Mt. Sinai, getting a brilliant tour of the world’s oldest Christian monastery from an insider.  Now it was onto the beach, to Dahab, the capital of backpacker travel in the Sinai and one of the world’s renowned dive centers.

Checked into Penguin Village, a place with a good rep.  Room was fine, and they had a dive shop onsite.  Lined up some dives, then went for a long walk along the beach promenade  – Dahab was larger than I expected and I was tired when I got back to the hotel.  What a classic chillout beach town – reminded me of some places in Thailand and the Philippines.

Took a nap…got a haircut…then went to the ‘Funny Mummy’ resto for dinner.  Had a solid Caesar Salad and a fish dish, they do nice fish here.  Was sitting near a gang of Norwegians, they invited me over and I accepted.  Very fun people – a mother, her son, and his girlfriend.  They were here for a week or so and had done some diving.  Drinks flowed – in Norway alcohol is taxed brutally and I’ve noticed that Scandinavians abroad are enthusiastic drinkers.  Drank till midnight or so, then I cut and run as had to get up early for diving the next morning.

Did two dives the next day.  Was joined by two Brits, George and Grace, who were going for their Advanced Open Water licenses.  Hamdi was our guide, a capable dude.  Drove up to the Canyons, a well-known site.  The dive was pretty good, saw a fair amount of life…but partway through I noticed that I couldn’t switch off my camera for some reason.  Then I noticed that the case had fogged up – I was able to see a few drops of water inside the case.  Shit.  A leak, it seemed – wasn’t sure what had happened.  And not much I could do.  I kept trying to turn off the camera, to prevent a short.  But I couldn’t, so just tried to hold the case upright and prevent water from getting onto the lens.

Got to shore – left everything to dry in the sun for an hour while we had lunch.  Tried the camera after that, and it worked fine.  This seems to be the proper strategy for wet electronics.  Wiped everything off and checked the case – couldn’t really tell what had gone wrong, but suspected the o-ring was fouled and I had a backup that I’d try the next day, without a camera in the case just in case.

Still got some good pics from the dive, in any event…

And the shore was picturesque, classic Sinai scenery:

The café owner who served us lunch offered us hashish and opium.  I think he was kidding.

Second dive was to the infamous Blue Hole.  The deal with this dive is that you dive straight down a ‘chimney,’ go sideways for a meter or two, then down another chimney.  Then you proceed along a reef wall for a while, and end the dive above the Blue Hole, which is a literal hole that opens at 65 meters and apparently goes down to 100 meters, at which point it comes out somewhere else.  That’s all I know – you obviously don’t go down anywhere near that far, only hardcore techie divers with trimix gas do that.  But it was still pretty cool to hover above the hole, even at 20-30 meters.

As we had walked over to the entry site for this dive, we passed a wall with a number of tombstone dedications to divers who died here.  Lots of divers have been seduced by the Blue Hole and have tried to enter it – and many never got out alive.  Going down that deep requires the right equipment, skills and prep – not for rookies and not even for vets like me.

Saw an incredible blue octopus wedged in a rock along the reef wall.  Wild.

Meant to go to a yoga class that night, walked all the way up to Blue Beach Club, recommended by friend Ken, who’d stayed there years ago.  But I forgot to bring my yoga mat with me – nitrogen narcosis can apparently occur  above water as well.  Blew off the class and took a long nap, which was probably the better idea anyway.

Slept for longer than expected – got up around 11 p.m. quite hungry.  Sat down at the hotel’s beachfront resto and ordered some soup and a burger.  Soon enough George and Grace, my dive buddies, came by – they’d had beers at Tota Bar and sat down with me while I ate.  Had a good chat with them – they’re actually staying in the room next door and will be here for a few more days.  Between them and the Norwegians, who I keep running into, my social life here seems assured.

Today I did a terrific dive at Eel Garden.  You swim over a sandy bed where hundreds of little moray eels stick up and sway in the current.  When you get near they disappear.  Surreal.  Underneath a coral I saw a moray the size of my femur – the head was the size of a brick and the thing looked hungry.

I tested my camera case with a new o-ring, sans camera, and it seemed to again be leak-proof.  Will take the camera underwater on my next dive and see what happens.

George and Grace are doing their final dive for their certificate as I sit and write this – they’re doing a night dive at The Lighthouse.  Had thought about joining them, but opted out.  I’ve got lots of diving left to do over the next 4-5 days and should spread it out a bit.  But it is time for a Stella Beer, so I’ll end this and wish you all the happiest of holidays.  My next post will be from somewhere in Israel.  Over and out.

I had a business trip to Hyderabad that was emblematic of doing business in India.  I had a couple solid meetings with companies that, shall we say, are in the social change space.  I got a good sense of what they do and their impact – pretty impressive.  But wrapped around those meetings was a grueling day in a hired car…my driver didn’t seem to know the city all that well, and it seems that everything in the city is about as far apart as imaginable.  I barely made my two meetings…and didn’t make my flight back to Mumbai.

I left my final meeting on time to make my flight – at least according to the guy with whom I met.  He got me into my car and told the driver the time of my flight…I expected things were set and I kicked back and did some reading.  I checked the time a while later, it was about 90 minutes before my flight departure.  I had no idea how far the airport was, and asked the driver, who told me ‘an hour.’  Uh-oh.  He had been driving leisurely and I had figured he knew best, but now I got nervous.  I told him that I had to be at the airport earlier than it now seemed likely, and he stepped on the gas.

At one point, now about 50 minutes before my flight time, I spotted a sign that said ‘Airport – 24 km.’  Torture.  I got on the phone to the Mumbai office assistant and told her that it didn’t look good, and asked her to make me a backup booking, which she did.

The final stretch run to the airport was close, and I might actually have made it, except that the driver smacked into the back of a truck.  It wasn’t too bad, and the truck driver didn’t seem to notice – we backed up and went around him.  But we had probably lost a couple minutes and that was enough to skupper things.  We pulled into the airport about 12 minutes before my flight departure…I rushed in and went to the Air India desk…they checked to see if I could make the flight…nope.  The plane was pushing back by now.  Oh well.  Good thing my well-honed sense of disaster had kicked in – when I know something’s not right, I’m correct 99% of the time.  But I also am a master at making lemonade out of lemons – frequent readers of this slog will know that.  So I checked in for the backup flight and got a beer at the bar.  Hey, this is India – you’ve gotta be prepared for nearly anything.  And the annoying day of driving around with a clueless chauffeur seemed humorous in retrospect…

Also somewhat funny – last weekend was spent searching around for Alexander the Great’s tomb in Alexandria, Egypt.  This week and weekend were spent pondering the outlines of my life and future, including work.  Talk about shifting gears, baby…

One of the things I didn’t much like about my week in Mumbai – having to shave every day.  I shaved my face for the last time in a hoped-for while on Friday morning, then met my b-school friend Rajan at his workplace for a cup of coffee.  Rajan hadn’t known that I was in town for job-related meetings – he seemed pleasantly surprised when I told him.  He had just expected that I was around for another lazy season in Goa, like the past couple years.  Again, shifting gears…

En route to my final meetings of the week, I noticed that my pricey Maui Jim shades felt a bit funny.  Took them off and examined them – the bridge seemed to be bent.  Tried to put in back in the regular shape and that didn’t help…the glasses had somehow gotten badly bent and were basically shot.  I don’t think I had sat on them, I’m usually very careful with these babies – anyway, I now needed some new shades.  And these were only about 8 months old – not good.

Last few meetings went well.  I’m interested in the job, they seem interested in bringing me on board.  So now my application enters ‘the system.’  We’ll see what happens – stay tuned.

Went out to do some errands.  First up – new shades.  It’s endlessly sunny in India and I refuse to be without a decent pair of shades.  A friend recommended a shop, I went there and picked up a mid-priced pair of sunglasses made by some Austrian company called Silhouette.  Good enough – but they don’t wrap around my ears the way Maui Jims do and I have a feeling I’ll buy another pair of those when in the U.S. in a few months.

Had lunch at the brilliant Mahesh Lunch Home.  The place was full – recession is coming this way, certainly, but perhaps it hasn’t hit home just yet, and/or some folks here just want to eat some damn good fish.  I had the gassi, a white fish (‘Indian salmon’) in a tangy sauce.  Superb – I can’t visit Mumbai without a trip to Mahesh.

Visited Crosswords and Oxford bookstores in a vain attempt to find Paul Theroux’s old books ‘Riding the Iron Rooster’ and ‘The Great Railway Bazaar.’  He just came out with the sequel to the latter, after a space of 20 or so years, and reading the review piqued my interest.  I’ve only read his ‘Dark Star Safari’ but thought it was one of the best travel books ever.  If you’re just dying to get me a Hanukkah gift, well, consider yourself deputized.

Went back to my hotel to relax a bit before a night out.  Thought about the week, and about my broader Mumbai experience, which stretches back to the summer of 1992.  When I came here to work that summer, I was 24 years old, and didn’t know what to expect.  I wound up having one of the top 2-3 summers of my life, one that has been influential in my life for many reasons.  Now I was back here, perhaps soon to start another gig in Mumbai, at the age of 41.  There’s a certain symmetrical beauty to the entire story, I must admit.

Went out that night with Rajan and the gang, most of whom I knew from way back.  Jatin had left me a guest pass for the Bombay Gymkhana Club, the usual Friday night place to meet.  Had lots of fun catching up with everyone, including the irrepressibly Keshav, a financial whiz who started his own financial services firm a year ago and is now paying the price.  He’s sucking wind – the main Indian index is down more than 50%, and everything is in flux.  Still, he didn’t seem to be too down at the mouth, at least not after he had downed a bunch of drinks.  Mumbai has a pretty exuberant drinking crowd, as it did back in ’92, and if I were to move here I’d need that sort of social outlet after a busy work-week.

Had some late-night eats at Ayu – the kebabs there are much better than those at Bade Miye.  On this trip alone I’d been introduced to Britannia, the Parsi lunch joint, and now Ayu.  A good city has the late-night places, and Mumbai had obviously improved on this count over the years…

As it had in numerous other ways.  In 1992 there was no email, no mobilephones, and it was nearly impossible to get a recent Western newspaper.  I had no idea how the Red Sox were doing that summer.  And the phones didn’t work too well.  It felt like being on Mars.  And while elements still felt extraplanetary, you could now learn and get things done rapidly.  My current trip here would have collapsed in the absence of mobilephones.

Got up the next morning and went for a walk on Cuffe Parade, where the Taj sits.  The police had removed some of the roadblocks and it was possible to get fairly close to the Gateway of India and the Taj, which looked alright but quite forlorn.  Tragic, in a sense, but also still proud and defiant.  You could say the same for Mother India…

Then went back to the hotel and packed up to head to Goa.  This is one of my very few traditions, and I was excited to be heading back there.  The beaches, the music, seeing friends Lisa and Richard, staying at their hotel/resto Bean Me Up – these things feel a natural part of the winter season for me.

My flight planning left something to be desired.  December 6^th turned out to be the 16^th anniversary of the destruction of the Babri Masjid mosque by Hindu nationalists; it was also the death-anniversary of Dr. Ambedkar, the patron saint of the Dalits (untouchables).  Some mayhem was to be expected on the roads, but I got to the airport without a hitch and made my flight.  Nice to make a flight every now and then…but actually, I think I’ve only missed 3 or so flights in my life.  One from Chicago to Boston back in the early 90s, the one from Hyderabad-Mumbai on Thursday, and one somewhere in between those two.  Seriously.

Because of the ‘anniversaries,’ the airport had 6 layers of security, which succeeded mainly in slowing things down.  That was fine – I’m happy to have lots of security, particularly these days.  But I noticed that one fellow sort of blew by the last layer, right before we got on the bus that took us to the plane.  My sense was that he was high-caste or a big shot and the security fellow was not – and that these dynamics made it very difficult for the guard to act otherwise.  Disturbing – I almost told the passenger to get back in line and get checked like the rest of us, but in truth I hadn’t seen the entire scene and might have lacked some context.  So I kept my mouth shut.  Perhaps not the right move.  Then again, five layers of security was probably enough, and the guy might just have been annoyed by all of it, so that may have been the proper context.  Am I rationalizing??

Got to Goa…took a cab to Bean Me Up…felt like a slice of home.  Was met by Arjun, the long-time chef, who handed me the key to my room.  A bit of confusion ensued about which was my room, Lisa had arranged a room and left my motorbike key inside – in the end she came over and sorted things out.  Then we went over to her crib, where Richard was hanging out, and we talked, ate, drank for the rest of the night.  I had intended to go for a twilight swim, but this was even more fun.

Slept very late the next morning – till 10:30 or so, the latest in memory.  Time to relax after a fairly demanding week.  Or at least relatively demanding – I shouldn’t grossly exaggerate.  Had the excellent scrambled tofu for breakfast…went for a swim at Little Vagator beach…a huge salad for lunch at BMU…a solid nap…then dinner.  Afterwards went to Primrose with Lisa to play pool – she won two of three, I played like crap but didn’t mind at all.  Just nice to be back here.

Got up at a normal hour the next morning, did some reading – had to work through my recent mail drop of 10+ magazines.  Took a New Yorker over to the Shore Bar, one of my favorite hangouts in Anjuna.  Sat there and read, ate, and swam for a few hours.  Thoroughly enjoyable.  The place was pretty full and the vibe was great.  Afterwards, went back to BMU and then went for a run, my first in ages.  Not too bad – legs were springy and strong, but my stamina was crap and I barely made it back to BMU.  Humbling.  And day two would probably be worse, I’d be sore. Oh well.  Gotta get back on the wagon.

Swung by Nine Bar after dinner – same as it ever was.  Same thoompa-thoompa Boogie Nights sort of tunes, same stoned crew of groovers.  But it was pretty fun nonetheless.  Time just seems to slow down here – could’ve been 1996, or 2000, or 2015 in there.

Went for a walk behind BMU the next morning, with my iPod.  Wanted to stretch my legs and check out the hillside, and work through a few podcasts.  The views from the hill were good – so good that I nearly stepped on some fresh buffalo patties drying in the sun.  Nice.

Had lunch at Souza Lobo, THE home of the kingfish tandoori.  I consumed an entire fish myself – the people at the table behind me were astounded when the fish arrived, and they were either impressed or dumbfounded by my strong showing.  I need to have one of these whenever in Goa.

The cops had been bothering Lisa and Richard, in their usual fashion.  L&R had provided their paperwork for BMU, but the cops asked for it again.  Lisa told them to shove it, over the phone – the cop said he’d file a case against her, and put her in jail.  Ugly.  Finally ‘her cop’ called, and she straightened things out with him.  They rotate the cops here, and each year there’s a fresh batch with a hand out.  Very frustrating.  Not the sort of thing I’m looking to have to deal with if I come work in India again…

Took another nap – went for another run.  Went down to Chapora Village at night for a beer.  Things were quiet, as they seem to be all round Goa.  The global recession is hitting pretty hard here, tourism is down substantially and BMU isn’t immune either.

Went to the weekly Anjuna Market on Wednesday.  The usual crap on sale…I bought nothing.  The market was quiet – the downturn plus the recent terrorism were obviously to blame.  I wonder if some people thought the market would be closed for the week – they had closed the Saturday night bazaar because of the Mumbai attacks.  Or perhaps, more likely, they feared that the Anjuna Market would be a target.  Eerie.

Got back to BMU.  Had a couple cocktails with Lisa – she was teaching her new bartenders how to make margaritas and pina coladas, and each year I’m the designated crash test dummy.  Not a bad job, at that.  And the drinks were pretty solid.

I said that time really slows down here…and that will be reflected in the length of this entry, which is nearly finished.  Part of it is that I know Goa so well that there’s not a huge amount of novelty to share with you…but it’s also such a relaxing spot that I don’t bother to do that much while here.

After a few attempts on Skype, I called United Airlines on my mobilephone and booked a round-the-world ticket for early 2009.  If I came back to work, it wouldn’t be till early March, so with that knowledge in hand I was able to work out a good plan.  I’ll head from Tel Aviv to Bangkok around Jan. 10^th (with one night layover in Istanbul – no objections to that), to Manila a week later, to Oz in early Feb, and finally to New York/Boston on Feb. 9^th.  The last segment would take me back to Tel Aviv, but I expect to blow off that one and book something else – to India, or elsewhere.  We’ll see.

Drove to Panjim, the state capital, just to get some air and for a change of scenery.  Panjim is a pleasant little city and I like getting there from time to time.  Had lunch at Hotel Venite, one of the cool little restos in the city.  Drove up to the hill Altinho district for some views (didn’t have my camera, but I’ve posted some shots from this area in past entries), and then over to the INOX cinema to see what was playing.  Then back up to Vagator.  En route I drove behind a water truck for a stretch, and watched a thin trickle of water dripping from the spout in back.  During the course of the drive that truck must have lost a lot of potable water.  Sort of a metaphor for India itself…

Felt like a swim, drove over to Vagator Beach.  Walked to the far end…it was low tide, lower than I remembered seeing here before, and it was possible to walk quite far, past the main swimming areas.  Walked all the way to the Chapora River, and from there I sat and watched seagulls feasting on Ridley Turtle eggs across the river and beautiful Morjim Beach.  I’d often seen this sight from Morjim, and from Chapora Fort, but I’d never stood right here, on this side of the river, and it was captivating.  Again, didn’t have my camera, but did post some photos of the birds in past blogs.

Then went for a swim.  The water this year is bathwater warm – like it was two years ago, and warmer than it was last year, when it felt a bit chilly.  Not sure if there’s any sort of El Nino/La Nina to explain this temp diff, but there must be something going on…

Bean Me Up was very busy for dinner – primarily because there was a table of 30 ‘yogis’.  After the meal they wanted to split the bill – wait for it – 30 ways.  Unreal.  The poor rookie waiter got nailed by this – he had to stand with each of them, at the cashier, one at a time, going through their part of the total bill, to which Lisa had (normal biz practice) added 10% mandatory service.  The cheapo yogis put the waiter through the ringer, sometimes bitching about the 10% tip, and the entire process took well over an hour.  I watched the entire thing from a barstool and was blown away by their pettiness.  Yoga isn’t just a series of asanas (poses), there are 7 other ‘limbs’ to the tree of yoga and while my memory is a bit hazy right now, I’m pretty sure that there are elements of kindness and community and compassion – things which were nowhere to be seen as these so-called yogis parsed the bill and displayed a shocking penury.  Reminded me of my time at the Border Café, in Harvard Square, many years ago, when the local Mormons would come in and order the menu items which were the intersection of 1) largest volume and 2) cheapest price.  And they’d leave a few coins for the tip.  Charming.

Seeing things like this makes me feel it’s time to move on – perhaps a week here is sufficient, at least for this year.  I’ve got some moving parts in my life right now, and I think I’d chafe if I were to park myself here for weeks and months.  I feel like traveling at a decent clip over the next 2+ months – I want to check out Sinai, see Israel, then stop in old, familiar spots en route to the U.S.  So hold on tight, dear readers – the next few weeks probably won’t be boring, and my blog posts wil probably be pretty damn long.  Over and out.

“When a man no longer believes in God, he’ll believe in anything.”

–G.K. Chesterton

I really do mean to keep this entry relatively slim – I’m still recovering from last week’s blockbuster 14-page/36-photo extravaganza.  That’s what happens when you try to see the Greatest Hits of the Nile Valley in under a week.

I had a bit more time in Cairo remaining before taking a train up to Alexandria, a place I was excited about seeing.  Went back to Estoril for a couple beers – the Sadat lookalike barman remembered me and greeted me warmly.  I suppose we each consider the other exotic-looking.

Briefly visited the large synagogue near my hotel.  It’s well-guarded and well-maintained.  The fellow inside was Jewish, he showed me around and (of course) hit me up for a donation.  He told me there are only about 200 Jews left in Cairo/Egypt…down from thousands a few decades ago.  I won’t repeat my frequent riff about it being better for Jews to maintain a broad global presence instead of crowding into Israel and the US.  Anyway, I’d done my quick Jewish sight-seeing in Egypt – I feel the need to check out some of these sites, if they’re close by.

Stayed on top of the Mumbai terror attack story, given my imminent trip there.  Spoke with some friends in India – the mood was understandably grim.  But the authorities seemed, slowly, to be putting a lid on things.  I decided to stick to my plans – and to my guns.

On Friday morn, hopped on a train to al-Iskandariyya, Alexandria.  The trip was quick – just 2.5 hours.  While sitting there, I reflected on my time in Egypt and came to the conclusion that the Indian visa torture had actually forced me to plan my time well and be particularly efficient.  I had felt a bit rushed, but really it had come down to a few very early mornings – I’d not had to skip anything I’d truly wanted to see.  And I also knew that the average tourist here only has a week or so, so my quicker-than-usual pace was probably just the norm for most.  Still, given my preference for slower travel and spending a good month in most lands, it wasn’t ideal.

Got into Alexandria, and took a taxi to my hotel, Crillon, right on the Corniche.  Verynice budget place – a few floors up, via the usual ancient elevator.  Staff very welcoming – and my room had a balcony overseeing the harbor, which is one of the world’s most picturesque, at least when it comes to seaside cities.

Strapped on my Tevas and went for a long walk along the water.  Some travel writer called this city ‘Cannes with acne’ and I thought that fit perfectly.  There’s an underlying sheen and glamor, but the city is clearly old and in need of a bit of spiffing up.  Still, you quickly come to feel that Alexandria is, or at least was, a decadent place, it oozes (faded) grandeur and is full of spirit and grace.  Quite different from Cairo.

Stopped into el-Qobesi, reputed to be the ‘king of mangos.’  This place has tons of fruit on display and makes brilliant juices – I had the mango juice and it blew me away.  Definitely the best I’d had.  Made a note to stop in at least once a day over the weekend for more of those.

Had the vague idea of a late lunch at a fish place down near Qaitbey Citadel, which anchors one end of the harbor.  Heard about and wound up at Qadora, chose my own 400mg millet and they grilled it for me.  Along with the fish came about 5 plates of salads and dips, and bread.  Total bill was well under US$10.  And the fish was excellent.  Millet is considered a pedestrian sort of fish, but I like it and the value is terrific.  I’d been dying for some good seafood, Jordan and Egypt had been light on it.

Got to Qiatbey Citadel, which was built about 500 years ago on the site of one of the 7 ancient world wonders, the Lighthouse of Pharos.  Some of the ancient stones from that were re-used for the Citadel, which is a pretty nice-looking fortress:

The locals are super-friendly.  One family kept waving to me from their window – they probably don’t see all that many whities up here.  Decades ago, the city was full of Greeks, Jews, you name it, but after Nasser seized power in the 50s, the game changed and most left.  Now the city is 99% Egyptian, but you see a number of Greek noses on people and there are still local ethnic clubs and such.

Went for a run that night.  The Corniche looked inviting, right along the sea, but the stones were in bad shape and it was all I could do to avoid twisting my ankle.  Finally went to the far side of the street, onto normal pavement, and that was good.  Still, the sidewalks were crowded.  At one point I had to vault a dude praying on his mat – funny but slightly unnerving.  Got lots of giggles from the lasses – like I was so funny-looking, with them walking around with headscarves or even chadors.  I guess it’s all about context…

Saw the new Alexandria Biblioteca – a massive, soaring structure that resembles a sun-disc plunged into the Earth.  Made a note to try to go see it over the weekend.  As we hopefully all know, Alexandria’s major claim to fame was its ancient library, which was destroyed long ago – by the Romans, by the Christians, by the Muslims, or (most likely) some combination of those.  Sad saga.

Went for a drink at Cap d’Or, one of the few old-time pubs.  The place is 107 years old, the staff look about that age, and it’s a classic little joint.  Used to be Greek.  You’ve heard my rant about it being good for people to be mixed all round the world??

Had some grilled calamari and read the International Herald Trib, which was even more full of terrible news than usual.  Seems the level of indebtedness in the UK is grim, even worse than that in America.  Also read a lighter piece about Indian baseballers, two guys are having tryouts soon.

Alexandria reminds me a bit of Mumbai, with its faded elegance – except that Mumbai’s elegance is even more submerged (under paan spit and general grime).  And Alexandria has only 4 million people – it is far more relaxed than Mumbai is.  Less energetic as well.

Thought ahead to my travel/life plans post-Israel.  Decided to try to wedge a few days in Japan in the mix – am missing some friends and the food there.  Should be doable.  All depends on my India trip and what emerges from that.  Could be back at work fairly soon – probably by early March at latest, and if the Indians have any say in the matter, might be earlier – although I’m in no real hurry, as you might have guessed!  Only I could feel put upon and crunched for time with only 3 months left…

Moved over to the nearby Spitfire Bar, which seems a real sailors’ haunt.  Complete dive.  Mix of gaunt locals and tourists in search of gaunt locals.  The proprietor spoke to me first in Arabic – I replied, appropriately, ‘huh?’  He had thought I was Egyptian.  I do seem to have a morphable (word?) face – people tell me I look Italian, Greek, Arabic, Spanish.  They generally don’t guess Jewish – which I suppose is just fine.  And American also isn’t their first choice.  Again, just fine.

I only have a few basic rules about whether or not I tell people I’m American.  The first, and really the only steadfast rule, is that if they’re holding something dangerous, I don’t fess up.  They could be holding:

-a firearm

-a glass beer bottle

-a car steering wheel

Any of those things, and perhaps a few others, all qualify for my ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ rule.  Make sense?

I really like this city, by the way.  That’s probably coming through in the writing…

Only had one day to check out the city’s numerous sights.  Got a fairly early start – with a modest hangover – and had a busy day.  First, the Alexandria National Museum, a terrific place with exhibits from the city’s long and glorious history.  Well worth a visit.

Wanted to check out the library – at least from the exterior.  It’s huge and I didn’t want to spend hours roaming the many offerings inside, at least not so early in the day, but I headed over there to give it a look.  I asked some cops for directions, they passed my question on to another guy, and he wound up giving me a ride to the libes in his little Skoda beater.  Eggsellent…

The place was mobbed, so I just walked around for a few minutes and then moved on.  You’ve gotta make choices sometimes, and anyway it’s not like this version of the library is an ancient wonder – it might be a modern wonder, but it’s only 6 years old…

The heart of the day, and my efforts, were given over to exploring potential sites for Alexander the Great’s burial tomb.  His body may not still be in the city, but was almost certainly here at one point.  No one knows…

Started at Chatby Necropolis, which was discovered by chance in 1904 and is the city’s oldest Greek burial ground – about 2400 years old.  Many archeologists think old Alex was here for a while, but they can’t prove it.  The place is impressive and it’s something to stand in the midst of it:

Walked to another potential burial area.  BTW, the locals don’t give a shit about the Alexander thing – they seem to know a bit, but it doesn’t get them excited.

Walked for a few minutes on Sharia El Eskander el-Akbar – Alexander the Great Street – but this isn’t one of the hypothesized spots.  Figures.

Made it to one of the city’s main drags, Tariq el-Horreyya.  In ancient times this was the Canopic Way, connecting the eastern Gate of the Sun with the western Gate of the Moon.  Where it intersects a street that now runs through Chatby Necropolis is another potential burial spot.  Can’t say with any specificity where, in this area – there are loads of ancient Greek and Coptic burial grounds and I suppose all are candidates.  Here’s the modern look, not all that promising, huh?

Walked by a sports oval.  A couple kids had put down a mat and were praying before their match.  Now I know why I lost all those matches…

Got a taxi to the heart of the ancient city, the intersection of Sharia al-Nabi Daniel (which may have been the old Soma Road) and Tariq el-Horreyya.  The philosopher Strabo claimed the tomb was around here:

Again, pretty innocuous.  But Troy rediscoverer Heinrich Schliemann came to the city in 1888 and thought it was buried under the nearby, unimpressive, smallish Mosque of an-Nadi Daniel.  I went there – a fellow took me down into the cellar, atop which was a newish wooden stairway.  I went down and looked around.  There was a dark hole – a well/spring, or something entirely different?  Across the chamber, there was a large crumbling antechamber which might, with further digging, lead to something.  I spent a few minutes hanging around, my mind wandering freely, then mounted the steps and went back up.  I asked the fellow ‘feen Iskander el-Akbar?’  and he smiled and pointed to the cellar.  Well, OK, maybe.  One thing I’ve noticed is that there are almost always multiple claimants to things like these (see:  Sanliurfa vs. Ur).  I also wondered what the name of the mosque indicated – was the Prophet Daniel also supposedly down there?  Because I’d seen his tomb in Samarkand.  And I’d also seen the so-called ‘Alexander Sarcophagus’ in Istanbul, but that was found in Sidon, and was not really the tomb in question – there are merely amazing battle scenes carved onto it, prominently featuring Alexander.

So that was my tour of potential Alexander the Great burial spots.  As quick and dirty as they get – I didn’t expect to find anything stunning in the course of a half-day, and I didn’t.  Perhaps should have done some research before starting…but I still enjoyed my half-ass tour, and might want to get more serious about this one day.  Please chime in and elucidate if you have something to add. The websites are certainly full of theories…

Checked out a few more ancient sites.  There’s a well-preserved Roman Amphitheater, dug up by Polish archeos while searching for Alex’s tomb a while back.  On the site there’s a small building called Villa of the Birds, inside are a couple floor mosaics that are worth seeing.  A local teenager showed me the place – she asked me my origin and I told her I was American.  She didn’t like America, mostly because of the Iraq War, but I worked on her, got her to laugh and lighten up, and hopefully helped reverse her.  I might start claiming stuff like this on my tax returns…

Then went to ‘Pompey’s Pillar,’ which was not actually built by Pompey but hey, they used to think it was.  It’s in the midst of the ruined Serapeum Temple.

The really cool bit is a passageway below the temple, with a number of different corridors.  This used to be the ‘daughter library,’ which held overflow books from the ancient Alexandria library.  They excavated this only a few years ago – but found no books, unfortunately.  Still, it’s a thrill to walk around under the Serapeum and try to envision what it looked like with scores of ancient papyri stuffed into holes in the walls…

Finally, went to the nearby Catacombs of Kom Ash-Shuqqafa, which were also found by accident, about 100 years ago, when a donkey plunged into a hidden chamber.  I hired a guide outside, he seemed credible and it looked like one of those places which you need a bit of help with.  He took me down to the burial chambers, the original was built by a wealthy local family and incorporates fascinating blends of Egyptian and Greco-Roman beliefs and gods.  There’s Anubis dressed in Roman centurion garb…Dionysus next to a king cobra…etc.  They were hedging their bets – why not worship all the gods, in case some are ‘right’ and some are ‘fake’?

Discussed this with my guide at some length.  He’s Muslim, but likes to drink wine, and feels that religions arise largely to scare people.  No argument there.

Couldn’t take any photos of the Catacombs, but you can probably find photos online if you look.

Was fried from the crazed sight-seeing – but was happy I’d hit the high notes and done the Alexander ‘survey.’  Walked to el-Qobesi for another mango juice – heaven.  Then went back to the hotel to relax a bit.

Made plans to see a friend’s dad on Sunday night, when back in Cairo.  The Metrys are Egyptian-American, Adam went to Tufts with me and we’re old friends.  I know his folks, and it turned out they’d be in Cairo when I was there.  So it made sense to try to see each other.  More on that later.

Last night of my brief visit to Alexandria.  Went back to the Citadel area and had dinner at the superb Greek Club, a real holdover from old(ish) Alexandria.  Perfection itself – dolmades, souvlaki, bread and beer.  Of all the cuisines in this part of the world, they say that Lebanese, Greek and Turkish are the best, the ‘mother’ cuisines.  I believe it – and Greek may be the best.  But I tend to suffer from the recency effect, so don’t put all your faith in my occasional pronouncements…

Hit the sack – had an early train back to Cairo.  Easy enough trip – but this was another very early morning and my body really does not favor those.  Back in Cairo, the taxi thieves were out in full force at Ramses I station.  Refused to cave in – took a while, but found a guy willing to take me to Pension Roma for 10 Egyptian Pounds.  Funny guy – loves Obama.  Hates Bush – said his name and accompanied it with an imaginary machine-gun round.  Later he also brought up the Mumbai situation, and repeated his machine-gun act.  I told him I was going there the next morning – he was shocked, and asked me not to go.  I patted him on the arm and told him not to worry.  Then I did an imaginary machine-gun and he laughed so hard he almost ran into the car in front of us.

Back to Pension Roma – felt like a homecoming of sorts.  This place is a terrific place to stay – great value, and the staff is like family.  And they did an emergency load of laundry for me right away, saving me the potential annoyance of dealing with it in Mumbai.

Was picking up my passport and (hopefully) Indian visa in 2-3 hours – decided to visit the Islamic section of Cairo and see what was there.  This is an old quarter of town with tons of mosques and old streets, you could spend days wandering around but I decided to just get a taste for the area.  Started at al-Fishawy, a famous teahouse right in the bazaar, Khan al-Khalili.  Had a chay and a sheesha – sat there while vendors walked around trying to sell us tchotschkes.  Looked at the local at the next table, in resignation – we both laughed at the absurdity of sitting there smoking, while being harassed by trinket vendors.  At one point I motioned a vendor to go on, to the table behind me, where a couple were sitting – surely, I indicated, the female would be a buyer?  Vendor went there – I looked at the local guy and we both laughed again.

Walked around, getting a feel for the area.  Good place to just wander and get lost.

Found a beautiful, enormous mosque, the Mosque of al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah – memorize that, right now.  Huge inner courtyard, very picturesque.

Had a cheapo lunch of ta-amiyyah (falafel) and potato chips.  Looked at my watch – about 12:30.  Indian Embassy was opening now – I had till 14:00 to pick up my passport.  Could not miss that window, otherwise my trip was screwed.  Looked around for a taxi – that took a few minutes, and I was getting a bit edgy, but finally flagged one down.  He extorted a bit extra from me, but I was desperate and I guess the ride was somewhat long.

Got to the Embassy (the Consulate, really), went up a couple flights of stairs.  I’d already been there twice, Thursday most recently, and I was praying this would be it.  Got to the top of the stairs, looked over at the door – and the sign there read ‘Closed.’

Remember that bit earlier when I wrote about praying to every god and hedging your bets?  Well, I was starting to cycle through a series of oaths to every god that came to mind, and against the Indian visa authorities, when I decided to at least check the door.  I thought I heard a noise beyond it, and when I tried to handle, sure enough it turned.  The sign was wrong…I was saved.

Inside, the usual bustle.  The woman I’d dealt with was behind the window.  I eventually got to her, and she handed over my passport.  I exhaled, and it felt like the first time in a couple weeks or more.  I’d enjoyed my travels in Jordan and Egypt immensely, but this had been hanging over my head and now it was in the bag.

A bit too early for a celebratory beer…and I’d be seeing Adam’s dad, Dr. Metry, later on.  So went back to Pension Roma, did a bit of reading (‘SuperScience’ by Michael White – found it during previous Pension Roma stay), then fell asleep, deeply.  My hectic weeks had caught up with me and I was weary.

Phone rang at some point  – Dr. Metry.  We talked, and we made plans.  I caught a cab to the Four Seasons, Nile Plaza – not my usual sort of digs these days.  Fancy schmantzy.  Dr. Metry found me – we hugged, hadn’t seen each other since 1996 or 1997, when I was living in NYC and the Metrys were in town for a holiday.  We went, with a friend of his, to the Sea Horse Café, which his friend’s family owns.  Ate a terrific spread of grilled fish and various salads, and a couple beers.  Covered a lot of ground with Dr. Metry – he’s a great guy and always has a lot going on.

Had a few more things to take care of in Cairo.  Went to the Cairo Gateway Bus Station and got a ticket to go to Sinai on December 15^th, after my India trip.  There’s only one bus per day from Cairo to St. Katherine’s Monastery/Mt. Sinai, and I was concerned that if I waited till the day before, I’d be out.  So decided to be neurotic and plan ahead that far.  Also had booked a room at the Monastery Guesthouse for that night.  December is busy in Egypt and you never know.

Egyptians often use Arabic numbers, which are to the usual numbers as Cyrilic is to the Roman alphabet – quite confusing.  So I wonder why we tend to call ‘our’ numbers ‘Arabic numerals’?  Any answers?

Next morning, flew to Mumbai.  The terror attacks had been (finally) stopped, with tremendous loss of life and damage.  No more needs be said here.  Got into Mumbai – fairly straightforward.  Got my bag, headed out the door, and didn’t see a driver (I expected Freddy, the usual Mumbai driver) with a sign for me.  Called the office assistant, she had lost her mobile the night before, and the attacks had made planning difficult, so chaos was the outcome.  A fellow finally came with my name on a piece of paper – whew.  Was getting ready to change some money and get my own ride into town.  It was over 30 Celsius and I was pretty fucking warm already…welcome to paradise.

The usual hellacious traffic – took an hour to get into Colaba, the scene of the attacks, and my hotel.  Checked into the Suba Palace – nice enough, and, more importantly, not a tourist icon.  Noticed crowds in front of legendary Leopold’s Café, of which I’ve written many words in past entries.  Leo’s had been shot up by two of the terrorists, and about 10 people, including two waiters, had been killed.  Just awful.  Anyway, it reopened quickly and people were thronging it in support.  Good.  I made a note to visit sometime during the week.

Lots of good memories came flooding back – I’d spent a lot of time in this part of Mumbai since ’92.  I also recalled a few hassles and less thrilling times, evading beggars and lying cabbies, trying not to sweat to death, holding my nose to escape the smell of god knows what, etc.  India is all things, sometimes all at once.

Many of you know that I’m in Mumbai to investigate a potential work opportunity, in a new business unit of a former employer.  I don’t kiss and tell, and won’t say much about this in my blog.  I’ll just say that it was an intriguing week – spent time in the office talking to lots of people on the team…made trips to two other Indian cities to check out project sites and meet people…and reflected on what I want my life to be like in the next few years.  Transitioning from fulltime travel to fulltime work is a serious pivot – so I’m not taking this step lightly.

Had dinner that night with the office head, at the Breach Candy Club.  When I lived nearby, in ’92, I had a membership.  It’s a great club with a huge (saltwater!) pool, and a very nice resto with good fish dishes.  If I do return, I definitely want a membership here.

Small world – the office head and my b-school classmate Rajan know each other quite well, they live near each other and their kids are classmates.  Good for me to have a bit of a network here in town.

Walked around Colaba that night after dinner.  Eerily quite – the attacks had only been cleared up on Saturday, two days before, and things were still tense.  Lots of security around now – of course.  We’re always ready for the previous incident, huh?

Sent a few texts to friends around India, then got calls from Hasmeeth and Rozelle.  They’re up north and we won’t meet this time, but perhaps before long.  The calls lasted a long long time – I’m still verbose – and afterwards I was starving.  Walked over to Bade Miya, the kebab cart all Mumbaikers know and love, and had a chicken tikka and a lamb kebab roll.  Right on the money – and the money was only about US$3.  I love it.

The only place in the area that was crowded was Leopold’s.  I was happy to see how much spirit it showed – absolutely indomitable.  There were 2-3 bullet holes in plain view, but the place was full and chattering away.

Next day, had lunch with a new friend, to be precise, she’s the friend of my friend Bettina in Manila.  Angeline’s husband, Michael, works here in the US Consulate.  We met at a place called Britannia, an old Parsi resto which was new to me.  Great food.  Angeline brought a few other friends, including another Consulate worker, who turned out to be from Cape Cod.  Very small world.

The ancient owner of Britannia is perhaps the last George W. Bush fan – well, besides Laura, and even she may be in question.  He bent my ear for a few minutes while I was waiting for the girls – he loves W.’s ‘vision of freedom.’  My sense is that he’s an old Parsi who hates Muslims – but that’s just a guess.  Anyway, the lunch was good and I enjoyed meeting some new folks.  If I do come to work here, I want to have a decent social network in place…hanging out in the office all night is not my idea of the right sort of lifestyle.

That night there was a candlelight vigil for the victims of the attacks.  I had a meeting (surprise) and couldn’t go, but even hours later when I got over that way, there were thousands hanging around, holding candles, chanting, and expressing themselves quite freely.  Lots of ‘fuck Pakistan’ going around.  OK, I understand the sentiment…but we really do need to get creative to make progress on this issue.  What about a joint Indian-Paki attack on the terror training camps?  Might be a naïve notion, but better than India attacking Pakistan proper – the Paki government is so weak, and the state so unstable, that war will only make things worse.

Couldn’t walk near the Taj, the scene of much of the damage and death.  Cuffe Parade was cordoned off.  Did see a sign nearby, put there by protestors.  This was a list of demands to the state/national government, and included a point about having defense weapon standards equivalent to those of Israel and the US…and another point about awarding slain cops/agents the sum of 5 crore rupees – about a million dollars apiece.  Anyone wanna put odds on those two things happening anytime soon?

This morning, on a domestic flight, I read that the Princeton Review had, for the 2^nd consecutive year, named Darden’s professors the best in the business.  While I’m biased, and haven’t met many profs from other b-schools, I couldn’t agree more with this rating, and it made me pretty damn proud.  I felt like yelling ‘fuck Pakistan.’  But the plane was full and that may not have been particularly constructive…

Was met by a driver holding a sign that read ‘Mile Slone.’  And later in the day I was welcomed on an electronic signboard that read ‘Mike Flone.’  Welcome to India.  It was close enough.

BTW, this isn’t exactly a short entry…I keep promising (you and me) to keep these slim, but I guess I just am observing so many things out here that I can’t help myself.  Like G.K. Chesterton, I’ll believe anything these days…

On Friday I have a wrap-up meeting with the office head, to discuss the week and next steps.  I have some thinking and deciding to do.  Like W., I am The Decider.  Let’s pray I make better decisions than he did.  I think I will.  And I promise to keep you posted, albeit somewhat generically.  But it’s not all seriousness over here – I’m meeting some friends for drinks Friday night, and on Saturday I head to Goa for a week.  I’ve missed the place, including Lisa, Richard, and Bean Me Up, and so I’m heading there for the 3^rd winter in a row.  Just for a week this time, but I might return later in the season.  We’ll see.  At this point in my life, I need a vacation after sort of working for a week – imagine that.  I’ll take my leave of you now – good night, godspeed, and good luck.  Over and out.

My trip out to Giza to see the Pyramids and Sphinx was a little bumpy.  I had hoped to get the driver to come early in the morning – I’d heard that the tickets to enter the Great Pyramid of Khufu/Cheops were capped at 150 and sold out fast, so I wanted to get there in time.  But the driver didn’t show until nearly 8…and then, en route, he doubled back to the hotel to pick up 2 more customers.  Pyramid entry wasn’t looking promising.  Oh well.

The driver turned out to be an excellent guy named Said, and my two fellow passengers were Carol and Rachel from the UK.  Serious shutterbugs…I felt like a minimalist next to them.  Said’s favorite saying, in response to every single annoyance that arose, was ‘welcome to Egypt.’  It got progressively funnier as the day went on.  You had to be there.

The ride to Giza is about 20 minutes, about 13 km.  Not particularly scenic, just dusty boring inner-city ‘burbs.  Then you get a peek at one of the Pyramids through the buildings, and in a couple more minutes you’re facing the Sphinx and the 3 Pyramids straight on.  They’re right in the middle of the unappealing suburb of Giza…but when they were built, this was pure desert.  And in fact, the actual town is really just on one side of the edifices – there’s still desert round the remainder.

Nothing you read, no pictures you see can truly prepare you for the majesty of these classic designs.  They’re both larger and more compact than you’d envisioned…they’re pretty beat up yet incredibly resilient after 3500 years…and looking at them, you’re pretty sure we couldn’t build one of these babies today.  Of course, those were very different days and the pharaohs had access to slave labor…but I do believe some secrets have been lost.  Cue up Erich von Daniken’s “Chariots of the Gods,” please…

Spent nearly 3 hours tramping around the Giza Plateau.  First saw the Great Pyramid of Cheops, the biggest (by a hair).  The façade is quite worn, the blocks are jagged in most places but the quality of the construction and the engineering come through loud and clear.  Had to ask around, but found the ticket booth selling tickets to go inside the chamber, and they weren’t sold out.  Not too sure how accurate my guidebook info is…the surcharge is about US$17 and for me it was a no-brainer.  Walked inside, there’s soon a ramp you need to climb, not that hard but the ceiling is low.  Some more walking, stooped over, and you’re pretty soon in the burial chamber, the sarcophagus is still there (at least the huge stone outer one, the other sections are elsewhere), and the room smells like ancient days.  Hard to describe this.  Very quiet inside (there was only one other tourist in there, incredibly – outside there were squillions).  Not much airflow either…you just stand there, looking at the huge ceiling blocks and sarcophagus, sweating.  Somewhat spiritual.  Spent 15 minutes hanging out, when I heard voices coming toward us it was time to go.  See ya, Cheops.

Saw the other two Pyramids after that – Khafre’s is nearly the size of his daddy Khufu’s (Cheops’s), and Menkaure’s, which is smaller.  Both impressive.  Khafre’s still has a section of the original white limestone casing at the very top, originally these Pyramids were all encased in this material and they must have gleamed like quartz in the sunshine.  Would have loved to have seen that.  As it is, the Pyramids were startling sights and in no way a letdown, despite my fairly high expectations.

The Sphinx.  A bit smaller than I imagined – perhaps 25-30 meters?  Also, I would have liked to have seen the nose – do any of you know where it is?  Perhaps buried with Alexander somewhere?  Anyway, the Sphinx sits in front of the Pyramids and ‘guards’ them nicely.  Another classic sight.  Many writers have described it with far more skill than I ever could, so I’ll just leave it at that and drop in a few shots:

There’s also a “Solar Barque Museum,” with a reconstructed barge that transported the dead pharaoh’s corpse for parade and burial.  They buried the boat next to the Pyramid and it was eventually found.  Pretty impressive.

Egypt’s typical culture was very much in evidence all day long.  By this I mean, of course, baksheesh.  Every security guard was on the make – and there were randoms hanging outside the Pyramids that would grab you and show you good panoramic shots, and pose you for those stupid tourist pics you always see.  And, of course, they’d want a ‘tip.’  It’s hard to fully resist them – you’d need a pretty strong carapace and sense of utter cynicism about your fellow man.  I’m well-developed in those areas and have little trouble saying no – still, the Egyptians are masters at scrounging handouts and even I’m susceptible now and then.  Carol and Rachel were visibly perturbed and I think it got to them a bit.

Besides the Pyramids of Giza, there are numerous others scattered around the north, some significantly older than those in Giza, which are the most well-known.  Our little tour included a look at other prominent pyramids, so off we went.  En route, we passed a newish KFC standing just outside the Pyramids gate.  Classic.  Then Said steered us to a pricey lunch spot…I’m sure he got a cut of that.  At least they had beer.

After that, we visited Saqqara, a few km outside town.  There’s a great little museum built to honor Imhotep, an ancient engineer often credited with designing the early pyramids and many other structures.  And there’s King Zoser’s famous Step Pyramid, built, as the name suggests, in steps.  It’s supposedly the oldest stone monument in the world, but I wonder how they define that fairly broad term…

And wasn’t Zoser the evil spirit Rick Moranis kept babbling about when he was possessed in “Ghostbusters”?

Then we drove a few more km to Dahshur, to check out two more classic pyramids.  First, the Red Pyramid, reddish stone, natch.  This was the oldest true pyramid, and the lessons learned from building the Bent Pyramid (hold your horses) were leveraged for this one.  Went inside (for free) with the ladies – fairly brutal downhill ramp to start, then some easy stairs and we were in the burial chamber.  Similar to the Great Pyramid in many ways.  Strong stink of ammonia in this one – I guess they’re trying to dispel an even worse smell??

Next, to the Bent Pyramid. So named because they started building at a steep slope, greater than 50 degrees, and when they saw it becoming unstable, they dialed it down to 43 degrees.  So in the middle, the slope declines and it looks quite cool.  The Red Pyramid, built soon afterward, is entirely 43 degrees.  So there.

Good lesson in pyramid-building and design, to be sure.  I’d probably read tons about this topic over the years, but it was usually in one ear and out the other.

We also saw the Black Pyramid in the distance, this one is in pretty bad shape.  We didn’t linger long, we wanted to stop in Memphis, the ancient capital nearby, and see the small museum and statues there.  The major attraction of once-proud, now nearly vanished Memphis is a massive reclining statue of Ramses II.  Absolutely enormous – reminded me of the reclining Buddha in Bangkok’s Wat Pho.  And also Samarkand’s coffin of the Prophet Daniel (still growing, mind you).  I’ve seen a lot of reclining figures in my day – including myself after a long day in the deserts…

That was it for the day – we’d seen a lot and were happy with the tour.  Said was a lot of laughs all day and we gave him a good tip.  The lessons of Egypt are not being lost on us.

I’ve taken so many pictures that my camera counter (the “odometer” of the camera, if you will) turned over.  I’ve only had the camera for a year and a half.  Fast.

Went to Felfela Restaurant near my hotel that night for dinner.  It’s a classic old Cairo place, decent food but great atmosphere.  And very cold beer.  Important after tramping around the sights all day long.

Also got a few shots of the Nile in Cairo before sunset:

The rest of my Egypt trip (ex-Sinai) loomed.  My India side-trip kicked off December 1, so I had about 10 days remaining before then.  Issue:  I had to be back in Cairo in a bit less than a week to hand over my passport to the Indian Embassy and get my visa, so in reality I only had 6 days to cover the Nile Basin.  A bit quick – but by no means impossible, or unprecendented.  After all, 90% of people have a week or so for this.  So I’d already bought my air ticket to the southernmost town of Abu Simbel, and from there I’d head to Aswan, then to Luxor, and finally back to Cairo.  Tight, but the distances aren’t huge (except for the initial Cairo-Abu Simbel flight), so I’d manage OK.

The Abu Simbel flight was at 7 a.m., necessitating a grim early morning vignette.  And the airport’s domestic terminal was chaotic – I wasn’t happy.  You’d think that by now Egypt would have figured this gig out.  The package tours were just blasting through, accompanied by these Gizan-sized wagons of hard-cased luggage.  Higher than fucking Pyramids, really.  With scenes like these, sometimes flying is harder than taking a bus or train – at least those systems tend to be more relaxed and organized.  And people who take buses and trains are generally more practical – they don’t carry as much luggage, they’re less fussy, etc.  My kind of peeps.

As I was waiting for my flight to be called, I looked at the electronic departures screen and saw that there was a computer virus warning message on it.  Classic.  And no one seemed to be doing anything to fix it.  Only in Egypt…well, let’s say only in Africa.  When you see shit like that, you wonder about other systems in the airport – the air traffic control system, the plane’s on-board systems…

Had a layover in Aswan’s airport.  Much calmer and nicer than Cairo’s, naturally.  Just a few destinations, and it’s a newish, fairly sizeable building.  Used my time to make my future hotel bookings – I’d be tight for time, and given how many tourists I was seeing, I was a bit nervous about being relegated to the dreg accoms unless I planned ahead.  My Jordanian SIM card served me well – it lasted precisely as long as I needed it to, then died.  I made a note to pick up an Egyptian SIM.

I was getting edgy by the time they called my Abu Simbel flight.  Watching package tourists shop for worthless trinkets does not make my day.

I realized that by this point I’d been traveling solely in new places for the past six months, since I’d gotten to Mongolia in May.  One of the longest such stretches in my life, and a relatively demanding experience.  When you’re in new places, you’re compelled to do the sight-seeing and experience everything there is on offer – when you’re in favored, familiar places, you don’t have those challenges (anymore).  I tend to like to mix it up, but the way it’s worked out, I’m on a new-country run.  India will break that up, for a couple weeks, then it’s back to Egypt (Sinai) and over to Israel, a country I’ve spent the grand total of 3 days in long ago.

As I grabbed my pack and walked to the plane, I noticed a guard spitting on the floor, then using his shoes to ‘wipe’ it.  Charming.  Well, good to get a bit of training before heading back to India, anyway.

Sat next to a Japanese-Hawaiian woman on my flight – very pleasant.  She’s a real estate agent, made a killing for years and years but now things are obviously pretty slow, even in Hawaii.  Was married to an American, who passed away, now she’s traveling with some friends and seeing how she likes it.  We talked Japan for a while – we both miss the food, of course.

Got to Abu Simbel, which is a small village, just 5,000 or so people.  It’s famous for two temples, the Great Temple of Ramses II and the Temple of Hathor.  Both are stunning, with huge statues of the pharaoh and his wife Nefertari.  They were painstakingly moved when the Aswan High Dam was built in the 60s – the waters rose and threatened many sites, many of which were moved/saved.  Some weren’t and are now under the new Lake Nasser, the world’s largest manmade lake.

Checked into the decent Abu Simbel Tourist Village.  Met two cool Aussies girls also staying there, Emma and Dominica, and we wound up hanging out for the next couple days.

The three of us walked for a while and got to the temple site.  Nice, green little village, and laid-back people.  I was happy I’d decided to come all the way down here, and to spend a night as well.  I’d been moving around pretty fast in Jordan and when I got to Egypt, and was feeling a bit tired as a result.

The temples were spectacular and imposing – check them out:

They used to sit aside the Nile, now they’re situated near the lake.  They reminded me of nothing so much as the huge statues of the Lords of Gondor in the Lord of the Rings’s first book, “The Fellowship of the Ring.”  And, in fact, Ramses II put these statues up to warn the Nubians and other potential invaders not to mess with his kingdom.  So there.

Went to the ‘Sound & Light Show” that night at the temples.  Kitschy, but you gotta see one of these while in Egypt, many of the monuments (including the Giza structures) have one of these.  There’s a broadcast narrator and graphics projected onto the statues/hills.  Started out in high cheese overdrive (“I am Ramses and I have waited here in the sand for you to come”), then settled down into a meld of history and architectural design.  Worth the loot, I’d say.

Met the lasses at Eskaleh, a hotel/resto near ours that’s owned by a well-known Nubian musician.  I’d tried to book a room there, but it was sold out.  I resolved to at least see it and have a meal there, so there we were.  Had a few beers, chatted with Dominica and Emma (who were curious about the Sound & Light Show), and ate the very tasty Nubian food.  Nubians, I’ve come to learn, are quite good-natured and relaxed.  Hard to imagine them threatening Egypt’s southern borders.  I guess we all have it in us…

We had another early bell the next morning –  a 6 a.m. bus to Aswan.  Thrilling.  I was average a 6 a.m.’er every 2^nd day, and am not generally a morning person.  I can handle 8 a.m., but 6 a.m. is like the Twilight Zone for me.  Still, I always get up and am usually as on top of things as anyone else at that hour.

In the middle of the night I heard a repetitive noise – was it bad plumbing, or was it an angry mob come for us?  Not quite as startling as my cobra dream in Petra, but worth getting out of bed and investigating.  Sure enough, the toilet was running a bit.  I went back to bed, happy I wouldn’t have to pull out my Leatherman and defend the Aussies from a snarling mob of locals…

Buses in the Nile Valley that carry tourists must travel in a police convoy, so there are set times and routes.  Not that big a deal – these were put in place a few years ago in response to some terrorist incidents.  And you hardly see the cops – they race right off and the buses can’t keep up with ‘em.  The issue for me is that the timing of the convoys is well-known, and if an organized terror outfit got its act together, we’d be sitting ducks.  I’d rather be a bit more elusive and travel at random times.  Just stick a couple guards on the bus, and maybe have periodic checkpoints – the convoy system seems creaky to me.

Got on the bus, fell asleep pretty soon.  Was happy that my jury-rigged Nile tour was actually coming together nicely, and that the India visa bit was completely screwing it up.  Now, that visa had better come through, or I’ll really be tortured.

Pit stop – had some sort of meat sandwich (salami-esque), and some chay.  Guys were already sitting round having a sheesha, at 7 a.m. or so.  Classic.

Caught up on some podcasts, including Groove Salad from NPR.  One of my favorites.  They played a track by a group called Kickbong – I liked it a lot, and I like the name a lot more.

Got into Aswan in under 3 hours.  Got off the bus in the town center, the girls came with me to the Hotel Hathor – they were heading north that same night, and they left their bags in my room while we checked out Aswan and did a felucca (sailboat) tour.

Aswan from the hotel roof:

The world’s coolest McDonald’s is in Aswan, right on the Nile.  We had a bite there before getting going with the boat – Dominica wowed me with her fries and sundae mix – hadn’t seen that before.  Apparently it’s big in Oz, but I don’t recall seeing it.

We all had to buy onward train tickets.  They needed theirs for that night, I had to buy a ticket on to Luxor, and then on to Cairo.  Went to the train station, a bit of a hike.  Waited in line…the system went down.  Ugh.  Resolved to return later.

Walked the Cornice, along the Nile, and eventually chose a felucca operator.  Got a nice low price, high supply and low demand it seems.  We chose a boat operated by two youngsters, Opus and Mohammed, who were huge fun and very Nubian in their attitude about life.  Opus played Bob Marley for us on his handphone, he handed out Cleopatra brand cigarettes, and we had a brilliant 2 hour ride around Elephantine Island.  These felucca rides on the Nile are terrific value – all local labor, no petrol etc., so the cost bar is very low.  We did our 2 hour tour for barely over US$10 for the 3 of us.  Yowza.

At one point we sailed by a Nilometer, used to measure the river’s size when it swelled.  Higher measurements generally meant better harvests…and higher taxes.

Returned to the train station.  System again down.  We were not happy – the girls had to go in a couple hours, and I wanted to stay a couple days ahead of the game.  Went for some kushary, an Egyptian snack – pasta, a bit of meat, god knows what else is in there.  Not too bad.  Much like frathouse food.  Well, a bit better than that.

Went back to my hotel – the girls got their packs and headed off, again, for the train station, determined to just board their train even without a ticket.  I assume it went well for them.

I checked emails, got a local SIM card, then went for my personal 3^rd try for tickets.  There was a near-skirmish in line, my presence seemed to divide the locals into ‘be nice to the foreigner!’ and ‘what foreigner?’ factions.  I elbowed my way in and got my tickets, finally.  The joys of independent travel.  There is some joy in this, actually, but it all comes at the end of the process – it’s hard to feel elated when you’re way back in one of these lines.  I know from yoga class that you’re supposed to relax within the pose, but I’ve always found that hard.

So I relax at the end – often with a cold beer in my hand.  Found Emy Café, where the more grizzled felucca captains tend to hang, drinking.  They had coldish Stellas and I had a couple.  Fuck, I’d earned ‘em.  Or am I merely self-enabling?

Exchanged texts with brother-in-law Dave.  His son, my nephew Jacob, had just told him that Grandma Cooki (my mom, passed away) lives too far away to visit.  Hmm.  That made me think, and made my eyes water.  I love this kid – I really think he gets it.  Now I just need to make a trip to Boston to meet my new niece – I feel guilty about not seeing her yet.

Emma and Dominica had regaled me with tales of how the local men had harassed them on the street, on buses, etc.  Egyptian men aren’t exactly renowned for their reticence and class – they’re repressed Muslims, for the most part, in a country of women wearing hijabs and sometimes chadors/burquas, and they act out on female tourists in sometimes ugly ways.  And I got a first-hand look at what they meant:  when I was walking with the two of them, I heard endless shouts of ‘hey Casanova’ and ‘lucky man has two’ and ‘how many camels for the two?’  I got sick of it myself and told a few guys to keep their mouths shut.  The sad thing is that adult men lead the way, their sons observe and parrot them.

My second day in Aswan, I hired a cab for a few hours and hit the major sites.  First, the Isis Temple on Philae Island.  Nice enough site – much still intact.  Bit of a hassle getting to the island, you buy the entry ticket on the mainland, but that doesn’t include the boat ride so you need to dicker with the cheating boatmen for that.  I got a decent price but would have preferred to just have it included in the admission.

Next, saw the Aswan High Dam.  The sun sparkled and danced on the Nile as we drove to the dam.  The structure itself is seemingly pretty basic – the wall is not that high, the technology basic as far as I can tell.  But the effect is major – on one side you have the Nile flowing and looking normal.  On the other – Lake Nasser, several times wider than the river and quite impressive.  Not easy to show this with photos, though.

Next, the Unfinished Obelisk.  This would have been Egypt’s largest single piece of stone, but while they were carving it out of the ground a flaw was detected, and they abandoned it.

Finally, saw the Nubian Museum.  This was a terrific place, with loads of history, well-labelled exhibits, and a good vibe.  Why can’t the Egyptian Museum in Cairo be half this good?  I learned a lot in 90 minutes and came away impressed with the role of Nubia in history.

In this museum they had a graphic of the Temple of Dendur, which would have been submerged by Lake Nasser.  The Egyptians donated (or sold) it to the NY Met Museum.  I went to a holiday party in NYC in the early 90s and it was held in the very room at the Met that housed the Temple of Dendur.  Small world.

I wonder how Nubians today feel about how the lake’s covered much of their ancestral homeland.  I suppose there are many benefits from having the water, but sometimes people are funny about land – it really tugs at the heartstrings.

Walked back to my hotel.  Saw a beautiful mosque on the way, no idea what it’s called but it’s striking:

Had dinner that night at a local haunt, El-Masry.  A local kid showed me where it was, and when I offered him a tip he wouldn’t take it!  Now that was impressive.

Had a grilled pigeon – pretty good, a lot like squab.  Not that meaty, but not that pricey either.  And the accompanying dishes were excellent and very filling.  I’m not starving over here.

Walked back to the hotel.  Saw some commotion on the main drag a ways up.  Kept walking, but at one point some local guys asked me to stop.  Turned out there was a bag lying in the street, and the bomb squad (or just regular cops with nicer duds) were working on it.  A young guy named Yahir who spoke English told me what was happening.  I noticed that all the action was within a few meters of my hotel.  Terrific, my passport, computer, etc. were all up there.  But it all got resolved in a few minutes and then the crowds dispersed.

Had enjoyed waking up at a normal hour that morning, but the next was another early one.  Had a 6 a.m. train to Luxor, historic Thebes.  Managed to get up, felt pretty woozy but was getting used to this drill by now.  Caught a cab to the train station and found my seat.

Uneventful ride to Luxor.  Got off the train around 9 a.m., looked at my map and walked toward my booked hotel.  A fellow came up and told me that he was the son of the owner.  I was suspicious – Luxor is known for lying touts.  He could have been legit, in any event I kept walking towards my hotel, the Oasis.  He kept up with me.  At one point we were joined by another fellow, who started talking about Princess Hotel.  Torture.  Then the ‘son’ said that the Oasis only had a dorm bed for that night, afterward I could get my own room.  Whoah, Nelly.  That did it.  I had booked a single room, the owner had confirmed it, and now I knew I was getting the good tout-bad tout routine.  What a simple yet sophisticated operation, though – I’ll bet that most tourists fall for this one, you’re pretty tired when you get off the train and the ‘son’ is fairly credible, at least for a while.  I told them to fuck off or I’d get the tourist police, and I kept walking to the Oasis.  Got there and told the owner what had happened – happens every day, he said.  To be fair, he had told me on the phone to just proceed from the station to the hotel – I guess that was his way of warning me about the tout scams, but I think he should figure out a better method.

Luxor is stuffed with sights.  My first day I spent an hour or so apiece at Luxor Temple and Karnak.  The former stands right in the town center, near the Nile, and is impressive.

An obelisk taken from this temple is the very one that stands at Place de la Concorde in Paris.  Good to know that, if for trivia’s sake alone.

I walked a ways and saw a guard sitting there.  He motioned me over, we had a chat.  Turns out he’s Christian – so was my taxi driver in Aswan at 5:30 a.m. that day.  Christians seem to live a secret life here, amongst the 90% Muslim population.  They seem a bit besieged and eager for foreign contacts.  Interesting.

Karnak is a bit of a hike, but is worth it.  And my timing was fortunate – I’d heard that the package tours descend on the place at 10:30 a.m. in droves, so I’d visited Luxor Temple first and tried to wait out the crowds.  Worked perfectly – they were mostly leaving/gone when I got there.  I’m usually not quite this structured in my approach to sight-seeing, but you may have noticed that I detest crowds…and Egypt may be the most touristy place I’ve ever been.  Seriously.

In its heyday Karnak was the largest religious structure in the world, and in one particular section, the many-columned Great Hypostyle Hall, you can fit St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s combined.  Or so they claim.  I didn’t love Karnak – it was huge, but not in great shape and, except for the columns in the Hypostyle, not that exquisite or visually compelling.  It was simply huge.  I much preferred Angkor, the Taj, or various other places I’ve been.

The cruise boats moored along the Cornice were endless – I think there were nearly 100, three abreast on the river.  Ugh.

Took a long nap, then had my first run in a few weeks.  Walking has kept me in decent shape, but I am feeling a bit soft and paunchy – the local food isn’t light.  While I was running, two cabbies didn’t get it, and offered me a ride.  And the schoolgirls got a kick out of seeing my sweaty large body lumber down the Cornice promenade.  I don’t mind being a spectacle, as long as I can break into a decent gallop…

Had dinner at a nice resto, Sofra, right near the Oasis.  They had a mezze platter and I had that.  Excellent.  Then managed to locate the Kings Head Pub, where I sat and had a few beers.  Pretty dead, but then again it was a Monday night.  It had been a long day and I was more than ready to head back to the hotel.

Broke down and signed up for the Luxor West Bank tour offered through my hotel.  The West Bank is a large area full of sights – the Valley of the Kings, the Valley of the Queens, etc. etc.  Hard to get there, it’s over the river and a few km away.  And once there, the sights are so dispersed that you really need transport to make it doable.  So I went for the tour, but was worried about the quality.  I had generally had pretty good luck on these sorts of tours, but you never know.

I was pleasantly surprised.  The guide, Nana, was a cheeky, funny local woman who spoke good English and knew her stuff.  And there were only two other customers, from a hotel down the street – Greg and Sarah, two Aussies who’d been on the road for a year already.  Cool.  We had a large minivan all to ourselves, and the price was actually not bad – when you figured in the (included) entry fees, which were not low, we weren’t giving the tour that much extra.  Must be loads of competition for us tourists here…

First visited the famed Valley of the Kings, where there are 63 or so tombs, including the famous tomb of Tutankahmen, discovered by Carter in 1922.  We visited three other tombs, Nana’s three favorite (of those that were presently open), Ramses I, IV, and IX.  They all had superb murals…Ramses IV had a massive stone tomb…Ramses IX had depictions of prisoners tied up and beheaded, apparently grave robbers had desecrated his father’s tomb and he caught and punished them.  Interesting factoids along the way provided by Nana – a pharaoh generally began his tomb when he was enthroned, and construction ended when he died (or before, if it was completed).  So King Tut’s tomb (for which there is a hefty surcharge) isn’t that great, now – it’s pretty small.  When Carter found it, it was stuffed with awesome treasures – now, those are elsewhere and the tomb is apparently unimpressive.  I didn’t bother to go in – lots of Japanese queueing up, they want to spend a lot to do things like this – huge brand focus for Japanese and Koreans (and now, Chinese too).

We then drove a ways to the incredible Temple of Hatshepsut, she was a female pharaoh with a complicated family tale that I won’t recount here.  A classic edifice in a brilliant setting:

Then over to the Valley of the Queens, where we saw a couple tombs.  The guards, I should mention, were seriously on the baksheesh take and we all thought they put a dent in the experience.

Finally, over to the Colossi of Memnon, two massive statues that serve as the entranceway to the area.  Still in solid shape, quite imposing:

We drove by, but didn’t visit, the so-called Ramesseum, Ramses II’s memorial temple (but he seems to have temples everywhere along the Nile, from Abu Simbel up to Memphis).  This structure is now in poor shape, and has been for some time.  I believe that Shelley’s famous poem ‘Ozymandias,’ one of my favorites, was written about the Ramesseum – seeing it in ruins inspired Shelley to muse that no king’s power and creations can last forever.  Certainly Luxor in general gives one the feeling of insignificance – we’re just specks on the Planet Earth.  And it’s not a bad feeling to realize that.

Running joke:  Greg asked at one point, ‘Is Carter still alive?’ just after Nana mentioned that Carter found Tut’s tomb in 1922, and died very soon afterward (apparently the first 15 people to enter the tomb all died soon thereafter, perhaps from breathing the bad air down there).  For the rest of the day, we teased Greg about Carter still being alive.  Good fun.

The tour was definitely the way to see the West Bank.  Sites are spread out, and they also say that this is the very hottest place in Egypt.  I felt pretty hot myself, and this was late November.  I can’t imagine touring there in summer, even though the tourist count would be far lower.

Got back to the Oasis.  Did some computer stuff.  Somehow my iTunes library got ‘damaged,’ and the system created a new library file.  It didn’t seem to be missing any song, it was actually a bit larger in terms of size than the old file, but there were a few dodgy/corrupted songs that seemed to be duplicates.  Had to do some analysis and surgery to fix it up – took a while.  Hardest part is setting up the podcast subscriptions again – Apple really should make a library recovery easier.  But anyway, I don’t think I lost anything – and I think that all my music files are on my hard drive, the library file is actually an overlay and doesn’t itself have the songs within it.

Had dinner with Greg and Sarah.  They’re veggos, and knew of a place called Salt & Bread near the train station.  Dirt-cheap, and pretty good.  Had a nice oily moussaka and some fuul (fava spread), that filled me up.  We talked India for a while, they’re heading there fairly soon.  Then we walked off dinner by strolling down the souk road.  The first kilometer is very touristy and you get tortured by the vendors, after that it gets rougher and more local, and you don’t get bothered as much.  Still, we had a couple locals attach themselves to us and serve as a bit of a bother.

Went over to their hotel, not far from mine.  Obvious copycat place – I’m sure they’re into the toutscam game.  But…their roofdeck was far better than mine…it seemed a much more sociable place…and they played Marley non-stop while one of the employees rolled nonstop funny cigarettes.  Greg (after trying a few ciggies) dubbed him ‘Mohammed Marley’ and we all thought that was about the funniest thing we’d heard in ages.  I wonder why we kept laughing so much?

I wondered, at one point, whether Ramses II was the pharaoh during the Biblical Exodus?  The timing of his reign matches up pretty well…and somewhere it’s written that Ramses II died by drowning.  I saw his mummy in Cairo, but couldn’t tell how he died.  And he has had 3500 years to dry out…

Long, fun night.  Crashed around 2 a.m.  Got up a bit woozy the next day, my last in Luxor – that night I’d take an overnight train to Cairo.  Visited the Mummification Museum first – pretty good exhibits, they had a mummified baby croc, an adult croc, a baboon, and assorted other preserved living creatures.

Then went to the Luxor Museum, a superb place with tons of statues and other pieces from the West Bank.  Again, why can’t the Cairo museum be this good?

Before catching my train, went for another run – gotta get back into the habit.  Had a couple falafel sandwiches.  Showered, packed, and checked out.  The Oasis only costs about US$5 a night – quite the bargain.

Walked to the nearby train station.  I love it when the station is right in town.  Met some Brits – James and Rachel – who were on the same sleeper train.  Heard from them that our train was often late.  Then a market research guy came over to survey me, and he told me that the train would probably take 12, not 9 hours.  Uh-oh – I had to be in Cairo before 11 a.m. to drop off my passport.  The original arrival time was about 7 a.m., but if we were very late I’d be screwed.  Thankfully the train came only a few minutes late, and was largely on time throughout.  I wasn’t in the mood for more shenanigans – this visa had already tortured me thoroughly.

Meanwhile, the sleeping train, called the Abela, was excellent.  US$60, had my own cabin, very comfy, they served food, and the cabin fellow got me a couple Luxor Beers (5% alcohol) that helped get me right to sleep.  Very civilized all the way through.

I made some progress on my latest book, Agatha Christie’s “Death on the Nile.”  I rarely read potboilers like this, but it’s about time I tried one of her many books – and this one is topical.

Got into Cairo around 7:30 a.m.  Even had time to linger in Ramses I Train Station and buy a ticket for Alexandria for the ensuing morning.  Good to take care of that stuff right when you get into a train station – saves a trip there.  Caught a cab to my hotel, Pension Roma, a place I was looking forward to trying out – had heard great reviews.  Checked in – immediately loved the place, it’s a classic old building that’s well-maintained, and the rooms are stylish – a bit of class in the budget category.  Nice people who run it, too.  I mentioned that I had to walk over to the Indian Embassy for my visa – they said two things that worried me:

1 – there had been a terrible terrorist attack somewhere in India just now, and

2 – the Embassy was closed.

She knew little about #1, so I asked about #2.  The woman said it was Friday (Muslim Sabbath).  I said no, it’s Thursday – she apologized for her mistake.  Whew.  Then I got on the web and looked into the terror thing – and learned about the hideous attacks in Mumbai by gangs that had targeted numerous places where foreigners tend to congregate.  The Taj, the Oberoi, Leopold’s Café.  Just awful, I had tears in my eyes – how can people bring themselves to do things like this?

I resolved to stick to my plan to fly the next Monday, barring any further news.  Walked with a  heavy heart to the Embassy and submitted my passport.  That went smoothly enough.  Then returned to Roma to rest a bit.  Finished the Christie book – very good, although I came up with the murderers even before they actually killed anyone.  Maybe I should read more of these detective novels…

Had a slew of emails from family/friends asking me if I was in India yet.  I reassured them I was not.  I have a history of missing incidents like these by a matter of days.  Got a call from a friend in Mumbai, connected to the job opportunity I’m looking into in Mumbai, with his take on the incident.  That was helpful and reinforced my decision not to he hasty and not to cancel the trip or anything like that.

Tried to take my mind off the tragedy.  Took the Cairo Metro (pretty good, actually) over to Old Cairo, which mostly consists of a walled Coptic section with loads of churches and graveyards.  In one church there’s a cave/crypt where Jesus and his family supposedly took shelter from King Herod.  And there’s a synagogue, Ben Ezra, the oldest in Egypt, which has a few claims to fame.  First, it was (supposedly) where the prophet Jeremiah gathered the Jews when the Babylonians destroyed the first temple around 600 B.C.  Second, there’s a well/spring outside where (supposedly) the pharaoh’s daughter found the baby Moses in a basket in the reeds of the Nile.  Third, the Virgin Mary (supposedly) drew water from here to wash the baby Jesus.  The Nile used to run right here, now it’s 1.5 km away.

Also walked by the oldest mosque in Egypt, the Mosque of Amr ibn Al-As, he was the Muslim general who took Egypt in 642 A.D.  Huge place, just looked around for a bit.

Headed back to the hotel.  Saw a sign on the street for Timken Industries, a large industrial company owned/run by a classmate of mine, Tim Timken.  “Timken – Where You Turn.”  Pretty cool.

Got a call from brother-in-law Dave.  It’s Thanksgiving in the States, everyone’s getting together for the annual feed.  I hope they don’t waste any time worrying about me and my India trip.  I know Jews like to worry, we’re at a loss unless we have something to fret about…but I think everything will be just fine.  At least it will be when I accidentally discover the lost tomb of Alexander the Great this very weekend, in his namesake city of Alexandria, while eating a very large shawarma on the street.  Before I sign out, a very Happy Thanksgiving to those of you about to eat turkey.  Over and out.