In the flow...

In the flow 12/28
I hate alarms, especially on vacation! There is something so wrong about having to set an alarm when you’re on vacation. That said, once I got over the shock of it being 3:30AM and freezing outside I did the repeat of yesterday and got ready for my trip to the beach.

Still dark outside I cruised through the dark market passing muslims going to prayer. I sat on the concrete steps waiting again for my ride wishing I had some warm coffee. Finally, the bus was here to save me from the cold and stares from passerby's. The tour bus doors opened to Alon, my bus driver from yesterday, with a big smile on his face, “Nicole!!!! Good morning! How are you?”
“Good morning to you! I’m great.”
“How was your day yesterday?”
“Fantastic!”
“Are you ready for your tour?”
“I am!”
“You handled everything yesterday so well. It really impressed me.”
I had made my way back to my seat at this point but thought what a nice thing to say. He must be used to people being complete assholes. He proceeded to explain the itinerary for the day: hour and a half drive to Masade, hike, then drive to Ein Gedi, more hiking, then drive to the northern most point of the Dead Sea, then home. We’d be back by 1:30pm, he promised again.

We arrived at the entrance to Masada around 5:30AM and were told we had until 8:30AM to get back down. According to Alon it was the full moon so we would have plenty of light to hike with until the sun came up. It was colder here. I had to wrap myself up in my scarf and start trekking just to keep warm. Part way up the beginning sun rays started illuminating the sky. Somewhere between there and the top I realized I had left my water bottle in the van...way to go Girl Scout! I pulled a mind over matter moment and convinced myself I didn’t need water, slowed my pace, and kept going.

Trying to stay warm.

The point where I realized I forgot my basic survival skills.

I made it to the top before the complete sunrise to find a massive city of ruins on this desert plateau. I found my own little piece of historical rubble and sat down to watch the sun rise over the Jordanian mountains.

Just as I made it to the top.

It's a sunshine day!

It was amazing to see the sky change colors from dark blue, to purple, to orange, to red and begin lighting up the Dead Sea below. Given the theme of watching a new day break and with my birthday and New Years coming I contemplated the past year and all of things I was thankful for and all of things I am looking forward to. I felt so fortunate to be there and have that time, that experience. Most of you know that I am not a morning person, but if they were all like that I certainly would become one. With the final rays up, I did some sun salutations and said hello to the day.

My sun salutations!

I spent the rest of the morning exploring the ruins and taking in the amazing vistas.
 
I was at the last lookout and started to make my way down the steps when all of sudden I was on my ass. I felt pain in my ankle, wasn’t sure if I heard it pop, and really wasn’t sure if I could move it much less walk on it. FUCK!!!! There was one other person out there with me who was staring at me deciding what to do. Having a personal moment of panic I saw the end of my trip flash before my eyes from a broken ankle. The stranger decided to come over to help. I slowly stood up for the moment of truth. I could feel my ankle throbbing. Nothing tender yet. I could bare weight without too much problem. The final test, could I walk? One step, fuck this really hurts, two steps, JFC this is not happening, three steps, okay not as bad as the last, four steps, getting better, five steps, I think I can walk it off. I began hobbling across this desert plateau making a beeline for the tram station to get me down. There was no way I was going to be able to hike another 40 minutes downhill in rocky terrain. Determined not to let this dampen my experience I waited from the tram, elevated my foot, and closed my eyes to think about the sunrise. I boarded the tram, thankful for an easy way down and headed straight for the bus. Next stop Ein Gedi.

The moment just before the ankle incident.

I just thought this was beautiful pic of the flag at sunrise.

We arrived 30 minutes later at Ein Gedi nature preserve. My ankle seemed like it was doing okay so I popped two advil, followed Alon’s advice and went up to the waterfalls. I easily made it to the top and sat on a rock with my feet in the ice cold water while the rest of my body enjoyed the sun rays.

So far so good!

Taking a look at the gimpy ankle, no swelling yet, no real tenderness, I think I’m in the clear. Phew! I just need to be careful on my way down and the rest of the day should be cake.

Beautiful! Oh, and the waterfall is nice too! :)

I met up with Alon in the rest area while we waited for the remainder of the group. He struck up a conversation about my past, present, and future trying to figure out who this crazy red head girl is that doesn’t seem to care about being thrown off a tour, keeps hiking after an injury, and has traveled the world and doesn’t mind doing so by herself. We talked culture, travel, nature, music, and theology in a matter of minutes. I learned his parents are from South Africa and he was brought up Orthodox but renounced his faith two years ago and went through the myriad of life changes and adaptations that come with a decision that impactful. “Wow, that’s big.” I said in a not so eloquent response. “Yeah, it really is....but I’m happy now, I wasn’t before and now I am.” My heart went out to him as I pondered the repercussions of making a decision like this. He did indeed seem happy now.

Back on the bus we headed for the north of the Dead Sea. According to Alon, this was the only place where they still had the good mud left because of the water receding so rapidly. We arrived at a small beach resort tucked behind an old military outpost. It was warm outside, perfect for donning a swim suit and taking a dip. Alon and I chatted as we made our way to the beach. We ran down salty mud dunes and across salt slabs to get down to a section of shore he recommended and came to everyday on the tour. He told me this was his beach. He would sometimes come here in the middle of the night during the heat of the summer just to get relief from the city and from the heat. I wish we had something like this in Arizona.

Alon called this my freedom picture! (all except for the guardrail)

I was given strict instructions about no splashing because you don’t want it in your eyes, nose, or mouth. You might feel stinging from little cuts as you go in and you want to start face up. Off I went into this unusual body of water. I did feel some minor stings as I walked in. The water was perfect. I turned my back to the water and let gravity take hold as I pushed backward...whoa! The unusual sensation of sinking below the surface then bobbing up didn’t happen, it was all up! I got more instructions on the appropriate floating technique, Dead Sea swimming modifications, and how to appropriately relax in this amazing place. After my tutorial, I was thoroughly enjoying myself Dead Sea style drifting in the mild current and feeling the sun on my skin.

Complete relaxation!

After several minutes, Alon declared it was mud time. We hiked out onto mud fields next to the shore. There were also instructions on how to enjoy the mud here...I never realized how serious a business this was. First, get the deep mud and rub it on the legs, then arms, and leave the face for last. Soak in the sun and let it dry. Most of all play! I felt like I was five again. This was so much fun! Covered head to toe in my therapeutic mud mask Alon declared it was time for pictures to memorialize the moment and then a rinse to cleanse, more floating, then home.

I thought this was more my freedom picture!

A full body mud mask.

True happiness!

An up close view of the mud.

I was so sad to leave this place, but I needed to get my car as I had plans to make it to Nazareth tonight. On the way back we saw Bedouin camps on the side of the road. We were told, the IDF occasionally uses their help to track people in the more rural areas. They are also experts in botanicals. Interesting.

I enjoyed the drive back seeing the change in scenery from the Dead Sea landscape to the more green hills on the outskirts of Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives. Alon, made good on his promise and got me to the rental car agency with plenty of time.

In his post-Orthodox life he had a Friday afternoon tradition of going to the Mahane Yehuda market just before Shabbat starts. He said he always felt frantic trying to buy everything for Shabbat before they closed and now he gets to watch from afar relishing in his freedom and happiness. He invited me to come along for a locals tour. I had been last night, but how could I resist a guided tour? Nazareth would have to wait a bit longer.

I navigated my way to our meeting spot after picking up the car, getting my luggage, and making a quick change into something less salty. We walked to the market and he guided me to his favorite places. He was right, the energy was frantic. Last night it was busy, but this was a little better than chaos. We had 40 minutes until the doors were forced to close and you could tell by the vendors shouting and cutting their prices. We bought fruit, hummus, cheese, wine, dates, and nuts. We were searching for some good bread when a horn started to blare. Alon pointed, “get your camera! Get a picture! Here he comes!”  A man in Hasidic garb was walking down the market blowing his horn and yelling at store owners to stop selling. The market was closed. Shabbat was starting. Doors were closing.

The official horn blower.

Later as we were walking, Alon explained to me how every Friday he felt like experiencing that every week made him feel like walls were closing in on him, that life had too many boundaries of which he was reminded on a weekly basis. That was only the beginning of why he felt like the Orthodox lifestyle was no longer for him. Now he was trying to catch up for lost time. He felt like the world was new to him. I spent four years in med school in a place that observed the Sabbath by closing down and was frustrated on a weekly basis by those restrictions. I always remember how great it felt to go into the NYC where things weren't shut down. During that time I had never stopped to imagine what it felt like to live this way your entire life and how truly refreshing and wonderful the world is when you live without boundaries.

The organized chaos of the market.

After enjoying our market purchases for dinner, I got a gift bag of dates, walnuts, cookies, and oranges to take on my road trip. I was armed with instructions on how to get to the freeway (which I had to recite like I was five to make I sure I didn’t get lost) and sent off to Nazareth.

My local market tour guide.

Two hours later I was making my way through the winding, neon-lit, unmarked streets of this part-Christian, mostly Arab town. I eventually found signs pointing to my hotel, parked, took note of my surroundings, and started to follow the bread crumb trail of signs to my hotel. A quick 5 minute jaunt I was there in a quaint home with an inner courtyard that was wonderful. I checked in and was eager to get my stuff and head to bed. I was tired and needed a decent nights sleep.

Off I went back to the car, or so I thought. I spent the next two hours trying to retrace my steps back to the car with no avail. I walked all over the city, subject to cat calls and inappropriate attention from the locals, which is my fault for being an unveiled young woman walking alone late at night in a predominately Arab city where this is the custom. It was pushing midnight, my ankle was now throbbing, I had blisters on my other foot, I had had one too many whistles and offers of sex that I swear I was about to cause an international incident. I eventually found the car on the opposite side of where I was, but not before I sat down on some dark steps in the deserted souq and had a good pity party. That’s right people, I broke down and shed some tears.  Part of being strong is knowing when to let yourself be weak.  I was tired, in pain, cold, and frustrated. It seemed like as good a time as any.  Thank goodness I wasn’t hungry, that would have been the seventh level of hell in my world. Anyway, pity party over, car found, I trekked my way back to the hotel only to find my key didn’t work to get in the door. I sat there cursing and banging on the door as a group of teenage locals sat staring at me. Really?! Really?! I should have stayed in Jerusalem. I had just seen the attendant leave so I quickly hobbled my way off in her direction hoping I would find her. Luck was on my side, she was just around the corner. Finally inside, I slipped into my pj’s, put some ice on my ankle, and went to sleep hoping to dream of only the good parts of today, and already feeling homesick for Jerusalem.

How is that some places just feel like home from the moment you get there?

Sun, mud, and sea...everything I need to feel at home and happy!