Nazareth and Cesarea

Every morning of this trip my body insisted on waking up around 5 AM, but this morning that was rewarded with a view of sunrise over the Sea of Galilee through the window. We were determined to make an early start for Nazareth, and as we drove there the homes and scenery reminded me of the older parts of Newport Beach. Arriving in Nazareth, we found a place to park our car in the city center and found a restaurant for breakfast before hitting the sights. First stop: Basilica of the Annunciation (1). The roof was designed to resemble a lily turned upside down, and the massive church was filled with depictions of Mary from countries around the world. It was cool to see the different cultures represented, but the American submission was too modern for my taste--it made Mary look like a robot that could shoot lasers. As we entered with the crowds, a Polynesian group was having their worship service and it was beautiful to hear their singing. Down below, pilgrims filed past what was believe to be Mary’s home when the angel Gabriel appeared to her. It was so small and plain compared to what had been built around it. Next door, we visited the church built to honor Joseph’s home. It was tiny and ignored compared to what we had just visited, but it was nice to see his role was at least acknowledged.

Church of the Annunciation (1)

 

 Polynesian pilgrims singing in the Church of the Annunciation (1)

Examples of the depictions of Mary from around the world

Church of St. Joseph

Getting to the next church involved wandering through the narrow, winding bazaar, which was a sight in itself. While there were a few shops selling souvenirs, it was obvious from the selection and the people that this catered to locals doing their regular shopping. I still wasn’t feeling the need to start my souvenir shopping, but when I spotted apricots I couldn’t resist—plus it gave me a chance to show off one of the few Arabic words I know. Munching on my mish mish, we arrived at the Synagogue Church. This clearly received very few visitors despite the importance of its location: it was built by the Crusaders on the site believed to be the synagogue where Jesus worshiped as a youth, and first taught. Given all the Christian tourists we’d seen at the Church of the Annunciation, how did we manage to have this place to ourselves? I can only chalk it up to the inability for tour buses to get too close. 

Wandering through the bazaar in Nazareth

Church of the Synagogue

There’s actually two Annunciation churches in Nazareth, because the Orthodox Christians believe Gabriel appeared to Mary at a well near her house, and that’s where they built their church. It was as ornate and incensed-filled as you’d expect from our Orthodox friends, and climbing down the stairs you could hear the running water below. Pilgrims consider the water to be sacred, and I enjoyed my sip. The fresh juice guy was even harder to resist than the apricots and we all enjoyed some grapefruit and orange juice before continuing our walk.

Church of the Annunciation (2)

I didn’t expect Nazareth to be so steep and hilly, so we only wandered up and down a bit more before going back to the car to drive to some of the other churches. Looking at the guide book, we decided the “Church of the Fright” was worth visiting. Apparently this commemorated the event when those upset with Jesus’ teaching wanted to throw him off a cliff. Mary was below, and frightened. Finding it was easier said than done, though, as we drove in circles trying to find it. Stopping to ask for directions didn’t help either, as there was a language barrier and clearly not everyone shares an interest in visiting it. We later learned it was the church on top of a hill that we’d seen several times, though it didn’t look like it was accessible by road. The last church we visited in Nazareth commemorated Jesus’s youth. It was a beautiful church attached to a school on top of a hill overlooking the city and was worth seeking out.

the elusive "Church of the Fright"

Once again, we’d travelled faster than expected and with the extra time, decided to drive west to the coast. Our first stop was the Roman ruins of Caesarea. It was surreal to see the remains of an aqueduct sticking up out of the sand and running parallel to the ocean, but the geography nerd in me was most excited by the ability to stick my feet in the Mediterranean Sea. Four seas in one trip! (even if one of them is really a lake). My favorite parts were the hippodrome where the chariot races were held and the amphitheater. As we sat in the hippodrome stands imagining what it was like to be a spectator anciently and channeling “Ben Hur,” we overheard a nearby group’s devotional about Paul’s epistles that mention the race of life (2 Timothy 4: 7-8). He was imprisoned here, after all. And in the amphitheater, a Korean group got up on the stage and started singing “How Great Thou Art”. The acoustics were great and their singing was sincere.

Cesearea's aqueduct, running parallel to the sea and just yards from the water

Dipping my feet in the Mediterranean

Where Paul was tried before Felix

The amphitheater is still used for performances.

The Hippodrome, scene of chariot races

Deciding the fate of imaginary competitors at the Hippodrome from our stadium seats--Danny was far more merciful.

We had just enough time to drive up to Haifa before sunset. High on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean was a church commemorating the cave where they believed Elijah hid. Reflecting on the episodes from his life, particularly when he challenged the priests of Baal, confirmed that he’s one of my favorite prophets of the Old Testament. Bold and not afraid to mock some false priests, he clearly had some sass (1 Kings 18:27).

Elijah in his chariot of fire at the church believed to contain his cave.

By this time it was too late to visit the other site in Haifa, the Baha’i gardens, but given all that we’d squeezed in I couldn’t complain. That was one of the sights that fell into the category of “things we’d never heard about before planning this trip”, but as we drove by it I can understand why it’s a popular sight. The Baha’i have built a beautiful terraced garden that while narrow, goes all the way up a large hillside.

Driving back to Nazareth, we began the challenge to find our guest house. We’d picked a convenient location to the city center, and while we had a GPS app on our phone to help with the navigation, it was no match for the increasingly narrow alleys. Finally, we gave up and tried finding it on foot, only to discover some overhead signs we’d walked by earlier in the day that clearly pointed the way. Upon our arrival, the son went with Danny to properly park the car and we settled in. The owner and his wife were incredibly hospitable, and when we mentioned wanting a light dinner, she provided a home-cooked meal that could easily have fed a group twice our size. We were almost the only guests there, and in a small-world coincidence the only other guest was a guy from Japan who’s also LDS. What are the odds? 

Before calling it a night, we ventured out to find a place mentioned in Kara's guidebook, arriving shortly before it closed. Abu Ashraf specializes in katayef, a sweet traditionally made during the holy month of Ramadan. It's like a sweet crepe stuffed with either nuts and cheese and was fantastic! The decor was a collection of eclectic antiques, so distracting it was hard to focus on the owner making these sweet delights to order. Another great end to a great day.

Welcome to Israel

Today Kara and I had to fend for ourselves (barely). Leon dropped us off at the bus station to take the earliest bus from Amman to the border crossing, where the plan was to meet Danny on the other side. Riding to the crossing, it was fascinating to look out the window but I also hatched a plan. I’d heard horror stories about border crossings into Israel, and the internet confirmed that we should expect to wait several hours and for it to be an ordeal. Praying for patience and the ability to hold my tongue, I’d intentionally worn my nicest outfit. Using the bus ride to look as presentable and non-backpacker as possible (while carrying backpacks on my back and in front), I busted out the earrings and lipstick.

As we arrived at the Jordanian side of the crossing, the bus arrived at a small and plain building and we went inside to begin the process. We had a funny moment when after waiting for quite some time by the first window with no signs of progress, I noticed an employee sitting in another booth with no line. I approached it, thinking she could also help process us, and was informed “this is window 2” (in case the “2” above her didn’t tell me that). That was all. What she didn’t tell me was whether everyone regardless of citizenship had to go through window 1 (they did) to pay at window 3. Eventually we boarded the crossing shuttle to drive across the no-man’s land between the two countries to the Israeli side. This included several stops to have the vehicle inspected (including mirrors underneath), the passports of all passengers inspected, etc.. At the Israeli building, we had to stay on the bus until we were granted permission to get off, grab our bags, place them on a trolley, and begin waiting in line to be processed at the windows outside the building. This gave me time to admire the landscaping and the nicer building than their neighbor’s. Despite the linear appearance of the line, once you made it to the front it was a chaotic jumble of people going up to the multiple windows, and I swear some people figured out a way to bypass this step altogether. Once we did, we then had to traverse the chaos with all of our luggage to drop them off at another window and go inside the building, where we were greeted with an airport-style security check, and another window. This was the one where I sprang my plan into action. The one thing these countries shared were grumpy border staff, and this woman looked determinedly surly. Forcing my biggest smile, I gave her an enthusiastic “Shalom!” in the most obnoxious American accent I could muster and acted like this window was the highlight of my day. When she asked the purpose of our visit, I happily told her about our plan to visit the Christian sites. In a matter of minutes, our interview was over and we were through! Total time to traverse the crossings: about 3.5 hours. Picking up our bags and heading outside, I was so relieved to see Danny. Apparently he was just as relieved to see us, as they wouldn’t let him drive the rental car to the building, and assuming he meant to make the crossing himself, they kept trying to make him enter Jordan. Eventually we made it to the car and were on our way, driving due north to the Sea of Galilee.

The Israeli side of the Jordan River valley was much greener than the Jordanian side with all the agriculture, which aside from the banana plants reminded me a lot of driving through central California. We also saw several Israelis trying to hitchhike, which Danny explained is a fairly common practice. It wasn’t long before we encountered a checkpoint, and I decided to use my “trick” again. A friendly “Shalom” goes a long way, but we were surprised when they didn’t even ask to see Kara’s passport. Soon we arrived at the Sea of Galilee and after a quick lunch in Tiberius, started our “tour de churches.” There’s a church built to commemorate the possible site of everything Christ did there, including the Sermon on the Mount, the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, and telling Peter to “feed my sheep”. 

Church of the Loaves and Fishes

On the shore of the Sea of Galilee

Attempting to walk on water at the Sea of Galilee

 

We also saw the remains of Capernaum, with a large church built over what was thought to be Peter’s house. The outlines of the houses were all small and nearly identical to me, so I’m not sure how they decided which was “the” house. The gardens at the Mount of Beattitudes church were lovely, with young olive groves surrounding the property, but I had to smile at contradictory signs.

Signs at the Mount of Beattitudes: on the left, "Let anyone who thirst come to me and drink...." but on the right "water not for drink"

Garden at the Mount of Beattitudes

Almost all the other tourists were there with a tour group, and at each site at least one group was either holding a devotional or a worship service in their language. Not doing either, we got through them much faster than I would have expected. With this extra time, we headed north to Nimrod Fortress in the Golan Heights. I’d never heard of this crusader fortress, but was impressed with the view and the effort it must have taken to haul the stone up to it. We practically had it to ourselves, and stayed until the park closed.

Nimrod Fortress

Water storage at Nimorod Fortress--it can still hold water!

As we drove through the hilly countryside of forest and cherry orchards afterward, Danny explained what he knew of the history of that area and the Druze he researched in grad school. With the exception of a small village of pockmarked buildings that was abandoned, you’d never guess how recently this area had seen conflict. The years of conflict and moving borders have created a bit of a conundrum/limbo for some of the residents here, though—they ended up in a country that doesn’t want them, and they in turn don’t want to acknowledge that country’s potential legitimacy. Not sure how long I could live like that. There was a scenic lookout overlooking the border with Lebanon, and a machine played a recording explaining the Israeli perspective of the war and the UN-run demilitarization zone we were seeing while enjoying the cherries we’d purchased roadside.

Driving back to Tiberius, our long weekend and Danny’s jetlag started to set in. After checking into our hotel and finding a nearby pizza place for dinner, we called it an early night.

(kk update: just a few weeks after our visit, a radical Israeli group attacked “The Loaves and Fishes Church.”)

Happy Memorial Independence Day

Today was not only Memorial Day in the US, but Independence Day in Jordan, and I paused to think about both before we began the day’s adventure. It started with being the first ones into the Dead Sea, at least as far as I could see. The hotel provided little rubber shoes to wear, partly because of the rocky shore, but it was also an effective way to minimize the salt getting tracked up through the hotel. The water was only a little cooler than the air and as we waded in, it was all you could do to stay upright before floating. The water almost had the consistency of corn syrup, and it was fun to splash around while diligently keeping my eyes and mouth away from the water. After a bit we came back to shore to slather on the mud they conveniently provided in a pot—well, I slathered anyway. It didn’t take long for the mud to dry and it was fun going back in to try wiping it off while floating. I did pretty well but got a taste of the water in my mouth at the end. Strong and nasty, I couldn’t wait to drink some fresh water.

Floating in the Dead Sea

Mud treatment at the Red Sea

After a lovely breakfast buffet, Leon and Kara were kind enough to indulge me in one last dip in the pools before checking out. The resort had terraced pools, and my only regret is that we arrived too late and left too early to use the water slide. Otherwise, it was heavenly to paddle around and go under the jets of water. Of all things, I especially got a kick out of the underside of a little footbridge over the pool that was just the right height above the water to grab on to. With the buoyancy, it was easy to launch from one girding to the other and back like a gymnast on the uneven bars.

At last, it was time to return to exploring the things we came to see. Just down the road was the entrance to Wadi Mujib. Unlike Wadi Rum, this wadi stayed a narrow canyon the whole way and had some water in it year-round. This was also a protected area, though, and my work’s partners had a project there. If it hadn’t been a holiday for them, too, we probably would’ve tried connecting so I could learn more about their work. Instead, we enjoyed it with the locals. At the entrance we were given life vests to wear as we hiked/waded/swam upstream. It started with climbing down a ladder into a pool of pale turquoise water and pulling yourself on a rope to the boulders on the other side. From there the water was sometimes as shallow as ankle-deep, but usually deeper and there were a series of waterfalls and boulder to climb over and around. Thankfully there were always ladders drilled into the rocks or ropes to hang onto, but that’s not to say it was easy with the water fighting against you. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have spent my strength playing at the pool. At one point you had to hang onto a rope with water gushing on you and climb up the slope of a boulder. It was doable once your feet were planted on the boulder, but after so many of these and my antics back at the pool, my arms weren’t helping with the first few feet to get a good foothold. Enter those friendly, helpful Jordanian men to give me a boost, who were escorting some Malaysian girls in hijab to so the same. I relied on my height, so it impressed me to see those girls managing it with minimal assistance. The landscape was dramatic in its own way, with sinuous walls so high and close together it blocked out the sun at times, letting shafts of light through at others that made the water’s mist glow overhead. Far above I’d see signs of birds, but otherwise the only life I’d seen were tiny fish in that initial pool—no plants in sight. At last we reached the waterfall, and its powerful jet was deafening and almost painful to be under. It was a powerful sight and a great reward for our efforts. The way out was easier in many ways. I found the obstacles easier to navigate going down, and we could float for much of it. As I said, the water level varied considerably and my attempts to float as much as possible resulted in scraping the bottom to the point that my shorts were a casualty of this adventure. Before leaving, we paused at the lowest pool for a few rounds of jumping off the boulder into the water at ye olde Jordanian swimming hole.

Found this image online, but it captures what our hike was like.

From there it was a steep drive up the mountains out of the Jordan Valley to Madaba, passing olive vineyards along the way. In the 20th century, they discovered several mosaics in Madaba from the early Christian era and Roman periods. The town has since become famous for them, with the most famous being the “Madaba Map”. How could I not be intrigued with a name like that? Our first stop was a church honoring John the Baptist, and when it was hard to get a good view of the dusty floor mosaics from the platform he let us walk on them. I tried to walk as gingerly as possible, but it was so cool to get a closer look at their intricate designs.

mosaic at the church honoring the beheading of St. John the Baptist

mosaic detail in Madaba

mosaic detail in Madaba

The next site testified to the layers of history here, with churches built of top of villas and a Roman road cutting through the middle of it. He pointed out where the iconoclasts had replaced the heads of animals with trees, and described the different eras we were seeing and what some of the designs represented. He also poured water on one of them, allowing the vibrant color of the natural stone to be revealed. It was neat to think we were seeing it just as it had been created, with no fading or eroding to alter it.

an awkward attempt to replace the depiction of an animal with a tree

Mosaic in Madaba

This figure represented a city

The Madaba Tree of Life, featuring grapes and pomegranates.

Another nearby church’s mosaics weren’t as remarkable to me, but it did allow me the chance to draw water at a Moabite well—I felt just like Rachel in the Old Testament, if she had spent the morning climbing up a river in a canyon.

Drawing water at a Moabite well.

It also had a bell tower we could climb for a great overlook, and photographs of the area and its people 100 years ago. Our final mosaic stop was the famed Madaba Map. It depicts important Christian pilgrim sites, including Jerusalem, and apparently helped archaeologists confirm and find other religious sites. The church with this mosaic is owned by the Greek Orthodox, whose icons also fascinated me by showing Christian saints with Arabic labels.

Leon points out where we stayed on the reproduction of the Madaba Map.

Orthodox saints with captions in Arabic in the church of St. George, Madaba

 This area is clearly used to Christian tourists, and accordingly is ready for them with gift shops galore. It felt too early in the trip to worry about shopping, but Leon did show us a particular shop creating mosaics. The symbol for Madaba is a “tree of life” with pomegranates and grapes. The story goes that someone who’s LDS mentioned to the owner that our church also has a tree of life, and commissioned one of Lehi’s vision (rod of iron, great and spacious building, tree with glowing fruit, etc.). He’s since found a niche in creating these, and Leon explained that their meetinghouse in Amman had one. It was so cool to see this design depicted in this ancient medium, and the owner was kind enough to chat about his work with us. He now uses strong, sharp clippers to break the stones into small fragments—coarser ones for the background, and smaller ones for facial details. He let me try my hand at it, and I can see why they have such strong hands after doing that all day. On the way back, we stopped at Mount Nebo. I was ready for my Moses moment of overlooking the Promised Land, but in the afternoon haze I don’t think I saw past Jordan. Still, it was good to be there.

view from Mount Nebo towards Israel

Driving back into Amman, the houses and villas became denser and nicer, with pines lining the road at times. Amman is built on several hills, and people refer to where they live by which “circle,” or concentric road they live on. Since the next time I’d enter it would be via taxi without him, Leon carefully gave us instructions and helped point out landmarks as we drove in. His neighborhood was a relatively new one on the outskirts of town that was near the embassy and popular with expats, but this didn’t mean it was any better at having street signs. The distinguishing feature of his apartment building: it was the one with the little guard booth. I tried to imagine how this would go over if I’d had armed guards outside my house, but maybe that’s not so unusual here. After showering and starting the laundry, we headed downtown for dinner.  Several cars were proudly flying the Jordanian flag, and some had passengers nearly falling out their windows in their enthusiasm. I couldn’t see it, but we could hear the unmistakable sounds of an air show that was a part of the day’s festivities. Downtown, it was interesting to see their shops, and the bridal stores intrigued me the most. The women dressed fairly conservatively on the street, but when it came to their wedding gowns, apparently all modesty standards were set aside. Their wedding parties are segregated by gender, so when a bride is with her female relatives she can dress however she chooses, which apparently is poofy skirts, bright colors, and showing as much skin as possible in a full-length dress. After a great meal of traditional Jordanian food, we stopped by a bakery to buy a sampling of “breakfast cookies” to take with us the next day. Driving back to the house I joked that the only thing missing from Jordanian independence day was fireworks, and as if on cue we saw some in the distance. Truly a magical holiday, for whatever reason we were celebrating.