In short (I must be tired...!) Jericho today, leaving at the unfriendly time of 6.30 from reception, which necessitated a 4.45 start. Not good after the 3.20 call to prayer...will I ever get used to that????
Everyone kept telling us it would be hot in Jericho, but no one (not even the guide, Elias) had EVER experienced it as hot as it was today....they kept saying high 40s. I have no idea whether that was the case, but it was so hot we were melting.
We began our day with the walk to the bus: always a fun beginning (that is after we have packed our lunches- not today, we're having lunch in a restaurant! whoo hoo.... and filled water bottles and made sure our ear pieces and walkey talkey things are ready to go...then you have to add the bible, a notebook, a hat, sunscreen, sunglasses, and if you are particularly fussy, a roll of toilet paper: the pilgrim's essential survival pack!) We usually walk down the Via Dolorosa, out Lions Gate and through to the bus which waits outside the old city walls. Our bus is pink, very stylish, and we take our seats and run through the whole 'Check your buddy' routine, to make sure we haven't left anyone behind. An important safety tip, and usually fool proof, unless BOTH buddies are missing!
Upon reflection...(added later)
Our day began with a surprise experience: I had seen someone's photos of Wadi Kelt, back in Australia, and oohed and aahed over them, but I hadn't expected the sheer beauty of the place. It is one of life's little lessons that magic happens in the most unexpected times and places. Our drive in the bus took us to somewhere which looked like 'the middle of nowhere in the middle east'; sandy coloured sand and stones...the sort that looks deceptively like there is nothing there. We scrambled up a hill for our morning reflection, being followed quite closely by people keen for us to buy some beads, bracelets or necklaces. When we got to the sitting area, directly opposite the most majestic vista of Wadi Kelt, it was to find that the merchants were ready and waiting for us, with their wares laid out on tables right in front of the view. My first thought was frustration and annoyance: that we were there to listen, learn, experience and reflect, but along the way somehow I began to realise that this was life. For these people, who obviously relied on tourists for their living, Wadi Kelt was their business; not just my reflective space.
The experience had many layers: we gazed out at the hills, watching the shade shift across them as the rays of the sun got stronger, and were invited to walk off to spend some time by ourselves in reflection. I tried to walk somewhere a bit isolated, where I could look at the desert uninterrupted, and for a while I did. This time I was able to still my mind more successfully than at the Nahal Tselim Canyon (the night in the desert), and as I looked at the hills and what seemed to be emptiness, I saw more and more detail; plant life, the change in the colours of the sand etc, and could identify valleys. It was a bit of a revelation; that the desert was filled with life, that was just waiting to be recognized. My reveried didn't last all that long however, the silence was broken by a group of students and their very American-accented teacher, who chose the 'quiet side' of the hill for his open air lecture. Once again I found myself thinking 'the best laid plans...'. It is so true that you can't manipulate life to get what you want; even in the desert it is hard to be still.
From Wadi Kelt (remember the little boy who was lying on top of the stone wall, rolling around while Elias spoke to us about the place? His face was screaming 'Hurry up and let them start shopping!') we went to Jericho. Along the way we passed the site of the Inn of the Good Samaritan, and the enormity of what it would mean to 'walk down from Jerusalem to Jericho' was very clear: nothing has become clearer than the whole 'desert hospitality' thing and the need to look after each other in such a hostile landscape. No wonder it was seen as such a horrendous thing to ignore someone in need; failure to act would mean fairly certain death for the injured one. Our first stop in Jericho was at the coffee stop, where we lined up for a long time to get drinks and where Jenny and I bought some sycamore nuts to share. They tasted a little like cashews or ....? Very crunchy and sweet (and turned out to be ideal with baileys).
We then took cable cars up to the Mount of Temptation, to the Monastery of St George. The cable cars were a novelty, although the sign on the window 'Stops half way to unload passengers' was an interesting touch! The monastery itself looked precarious, perched on the side of the cliff face, built directly into the rock. The temperature by now was very hot, and the walk up the many stairs from the cable car was warmish, to say the least. We sat in a sort of cave-like gathering space opposite the monks cells- and fanned ourselves and drank from our trusty water bottles while Elias told us about the place. I can almost guage my level of heat-affectedness by how much I remember from each place: the poor old Monastery of St George is visually etched in my mind, however I can't remember any of the details about it -only what is now in my photos!~
I do remember we went into the Greek Orthodox church/chapel and were able to go up into the upper room which was 'the site' of the temptation of Christ. Once again, marked by a rock which has been surface rubbed by centuries of pilgrims. We also walked out onto the balcony and gazed at the cliff face beside us and the valley below. It was gorgeous in its dramatic starkness.
After our lunch at the Sycamore tree restaurant, during which we were very conscious of what special guests we were, in a place which is not really frequented by visitors now, we visited an incredible Romanian Church which has been constructed and which looks for all the world like an alien, made of glorious pink and creamy marble, landed in the middle of the desert. It was filled with icons: every surface covered with images of saints, including one icon showing the death of Mary, with Jesus nursing her soul, depicted as a little baby. The Romanian Greek Orthodox nuns running the place were christened 'The Audrey Hepburn' nuns by one of our group, as they had beautiful black veils which framed their faces; just like Audrey in whichever film she was in. They also kindly gave us drinks and biscuits: again, the hospitality of the desert, perhaps, before we made our way back to Jerusalem.
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