My Misadventures on an Educational Sabbatical

More Limestone Karsts - Halong Bay-on-Land and Beyond

2009-08-24T08:03:00.001-07:00

We were heading south from Halong Bay to Tam Coc, driving the second leg of a triangle and it would take the same amount of time to reach our destination as our road trip this morning. The roads were bumpier and as the sun set, the drive became more boring than not!

Arriving about 4 hours later under the shroud of darkness, we checked into the hotel. The darkness was stark and we had no idea of our surroundings. The four of us dined in a large almost empty dining room. It was an early night for all of us. Awakening to the sound of roosters crowing, I was pleasantly surprised at the vista outside of my window.

Vendors were setting up stalls in the plaza below and flat rowboats were tied up on the river. Roosters and goats were roaming around unattended. This small village was coming alive. We returned to the very empty dining room; over breakfast we made a plan for the day.

Caroline and I boarded one boat and Penny, Jenny and Phuong a second boat and we headed down the river toward the caves. At one point I turned around and was very surprised to see that our guide was rowing the boat with her feet! The river was still pretty quiet and the scenery was beautiful. The green reeds of rice against the backdrop of the limestone cliffs provided many Kodak moments.

As we continued down the river, boats filled with children were heading up river. There was a virtual parade of these boats, with children laughing, young couples kissing (!) and most of them posing for snapshots. We thought they might be going to school, but later realized that it was a state holiday and there was a festival in the plaza by our hotel.

Tam Coc means Three Caves. The limestone mountains that line the river eventually
become caves – and yes, we would travel through three of them on this journey. The caves were created by wind and water, dating back to a time when the sea had occupied the area. There is a tidemark on the rock a few feet above the water. Higher on the mountainside there is evidence of erosion that created some interesting shapes. Over time these crevices have filled in with green grass, which keep the goats happy as they graze on the cliffs. It is these geological shapes and structures: the limestone cliffs arising from the river that give Tam Coc the name of Halong-Bay-On-Land.

The local people who row the boats speak only a few words of English. They are very friendly, but their role is clearly to row the boat. They are not guides in the true sense of giving an explanation of the sights on the river. Temples and Pagoda are visible on the river edge and high into the hills.

The activity on the river increased and the window of opportunity of feeling that we owned the river was gone. Boats filled with beverages and snacks for sale were now following us; this is a very entrepreneurial country!

When we were back at the plaza, I couldn’t resist a photo op for Mr Bill. He really is an ambassador, in his own right, as most people will gladly pose with him!

We made one last stop at Phat Diem before returning to Hanoi. For unknown reasons, I was quite taken with the church. The topography in the delta is flat and because the Phat Diem Cathedral stands on flat ground it impossible to appreciate the grandeur of the building from afar. It is a magnificent structure.

Built between 1875 and 189 by Father Tran Loc, the Cathedral is about 250 feet long and 70 feet wide. Each of the four roofs rests on six ranks of wood pillars (each rank has 16 pillars that are 36 feet tall and are 7 feet in circumference). The main cathedral was closed, but looking in the windows we were able to see the beautiful lacquered woodwork. The jewel of the complex is the adjacent Stone Chapel that is constructed completely in stone: walls, columns, beams, windows and towers.

The priest wanted the church to be apart of the community and it was constructed in what is referred to as a hybrid Asian architecture. There is a larger than life marble statue of the Sacred Heart overlooking pond; the bell tower has an upturned tile roof and stands significantly taller than the church roof. The columns have been carved to resemble bamboo. The mortal remains of Father Loc are interred at the base of the tower.

The total effect of the sprawling compound creates a serene space. The design of each building has you looking up as you enter. Intricate wall paintings add to the artistic quality. The simplicity of the unadorned wooden pews adds another dimension. As a non-Christian, I was surprised that I was in awe as we roamed through the buildings. For over a hundred years of its existence, Phat Diem Cathedral has welcomed visitors and worshippers from all over the world.

As we board on van for yet another bumpy, somewhat arduous road trip back to Hanoi, the adventure continues…

Halong Bay – Will it be the Newest Seventh Great Wonder?

2009-08-24T05:50:00.001-07:00

We took a break from the hectic pace of city life for a day trip to Halong Bay. It was an adventure! Did I mention that the infrastructure of roadways in Vietnam was lacking? The distance between Hanoi and Halong Bay is about 100 miles. The driving time on some very bumpy roads was 3 ½ hours!

Our boat was awaiting our arrival and the next challenge was walking down a steep 6” plank to board the vessel. Certainly not for the faint of heart, we accomplished the challenge and set off to explore. The marina was full of beautifully lacquered boats with many colorful flags. There are about 1600 islands and islets in the Gulf of Tonkin that form a rather spectacular seascape of limestone pillars. Because of their precipitous stature, few are affected by any human presence; most of the islands are uninhabited.

The area was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994. Halong Bay is not only a natural wonder, but also a symbol for Vietnamese. Some of the islands have their own legends. One such legend is how Halong Bay got its name. The name originated after a dragon visited the area to protect Hai Phong from the Chinese invaders. The dragon's mighty tail carved the rocky seabed. Vinh Halong —Halong Bay— means Bay of the Descending Dragon.

As we made our way through the bay each of the karsts, limestone mountains, was more fascinating that the next. We had a very decadent seafood lunch on board. White napkins certainly took it up a notch! It was a leisurely boat ride and the serenity of the bay truly engulfed us. It felt like the other end of the continuum from the hectic pace and noise of Hanoi. It was easy to sit on the deck and totally entertain ourselves naming the limestone formations.

Our destination was one of the grottoes that we would explore. There were stalagmites and stalactites that resemble animals and plants. Yes, we enjoyed the cave as much as the kids who were doing the tourist thing with us. My favorite is the “ET, phone home”! Photo credits go to Jenny who did a fabulous job with this picture.

The locals live mainly from the sea, as the bay is very rich in fish and seafood. Most of the rock islands are too poor to sustain any type of cultivation. The locals, who live in the floating homes, spend their mornings fishing and sell their catch to the larger boats that bring the fish to the continent.

There was so much to see and so many pictures to take. Halong Bay really is a must see – and it gets my vote for one of the Seven Wonders of the World!

More Hanoi – The Remnants of a Communist Country

2009-08-24T05:45:00.001-07:00

A visit to Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum is on the short list of “must see” in Hanoi. We were up and out early to join the very long line of tourists, which may have been longer than usual because it was a Saturday. We left our worldly possessions (including cameras and passports) with our guide, Phuong. It was an eye-opening experience and it was the first time since arriving in Vietnam that I felt as though I was in a (formerly) communist country.

We entered the line to go through the metal scanner and in single file entered the queue that stretched along the long block in front of the mausoleum. The line was under the “direction” of the guards, who repeatedly asked that we remove a hat, take our hands out of our pockets, and at a particular point to form a double line. It was like being in grade school. Penny was assigned a new partner, and became instant best friends with Sue from the Singapore. Did I mention that there was NO talking? At a corner, our line merged with one of many large groups of school children that were on class trips. We walked in silence – almost marching – along the front of the very large boxy building. We were told to wait (in the steamy Hanoi sunshine) as we watched a wreath laying ceremony on the steps. And then we were allowed to proceed up the stairs, in pairs, quietly into a blast of very cold air conditioning.

As we wound our way through the corridors, the guards were very vigilant, maintaining quiet, reminding us to keep our hands at our sides, and making sure we kept a constant pace. The queue moved around the glass enclosed embalmed body of Uncle Ho on three sides. There are motionless soldiers standing at attention. It is surreal. It is rumored that the body is returned to Moscow on a regular basis for maintenance, which may be more fact than fiction. The waxy sheen made it difficult to determine if this is a real body that has been heavily embalmed or a wax replica. I’ll never know…

His diminutive stature is very evident, in death as in life. As the engineer of the country’s independence, he was instrumental in defeating the Americans, French and Japanese. This small country also fought the Chinese and Cambodians. Whether you like Uncle Ho or not, one really has to respect his accomplishments. Ho Chi Minh stood in front of this very building to declare independence in 1945.

Adjacent to the mausoleum is the Presidential Palace (built for the General Governor of Indochina), a beautiful, mustard colored French Colonial building. Ho Chi Minh refused to live in the mansion after the defeat of the French, preferring to live in a small cottage on the property and later the house on stilts. His choice of living and working environment illustrates the importance of simplicity and modesty to this Vietnamese revolutionary. This building is elegantly crafted with lacquered and polished wood, following the model of a traditional communal house on stilts.

It was a very busy day and we joined the masses to see the sights of Hanoi. We pushed on to visit the Temple of Literature. Amidst a lot of tourists, you can still feel the serenity and calm as you walk through the gates of what is the city’s first university. The complex is home to Van Mieu, a temple that was built in 1070 to worship the Chinese philosopher Confucius, and Quoc Tu Giam, an elite institution to teach the doctrines of Confucius and his disciples. This was the center for Confucian learning for more than 700 years to about 938 A.D. It is representative of the strong cultural heritage of the Mandarins.

Within the walls are a series of four courtyards that served as an entrance to the university. In addition there are lotus-filled pools and red-roofed temples. Architecturally, it is an example of classic Chinese with Vietnamese influences. Still present are rows of stone tortoises with stelae: stone diplomas, really -- erected between 1484 and 1780, bearing the names and birthplaces of more than 1300 doctor laureates who managed to pass the university's rigorous examinations. The turtle is a symbol of long-life and wisdom and rubbing the turtle’s heads is thought to bring good luck!

We couldn’t leave Hanoi without seeing the Maison Centrale, better known to Americans as the Hanoi Hilton. The prison was built in 1896 by the French to house up to 450 “opponents” of colonialism. The Hoa Loa Prison, as the Vietnamese knew it, is now a museum. Most of the original building was demolished during construction of an adjacent high-rise building.

The interrogation room where many newly captured Americans were interrogated and tortured, notorious among former prisoners as the "blue room," is now made up to look like a very comfortable, if spartan, barracks-style room. Displays in the room claim that Americans were treated well and not tortured, in stark contradiction to the many claims of former prisoners that the room was the site of numerous acts of torture. The audio-visual presentation is classic propaganda.

The name: Hanoi Hilton is a sarcastic reference to the Hilton hotel chain. Its most famous inmates were John McCain, the US pilot who later became a senator and Douglas Pete Peterson, the first US ambassador to the Socialist Republic of Vietnam.

Yes, the undercurrent of communism is ever present –
And the adventure continues…

Heading North – Hanoi

2009-08-24T05:32:00.000-07:00

An early morning flight to Hanoi was the only sensible way to travel 300+ miles. The highways in Vietnam are not limited access in any direction and this “lacking” infrastructure would make the trip a very long day’s journey!

The ride from the airport was a snapshot of the crowded and hectic pace of Vietnam’s second largest city. We made a brief stop at our hotel and headed to a very old (in existence for more than 100 years) restaurant for a grilled fish lunch. We walked up a very narrow staircase and sat elbow to elbow with the locals. Little did we know at the time that this lunch would be our most favorite meal. The picture captures the beauty of the meal: boneless white fish cooked at the table in a sauté pan over a small charcoal grill. The greens were abundant and spices wonderfully fragrant: dill, tumeric, cilantro and mint. The meal is served with rice noodles, chili peppers, chopped peanuts and fish sauce. It seemed as though they kept replenishing the bowls as we reached bottom. A (not so) cold Hanoi beer was the beverage of choice!

The Old Quarter in Hanoi is the oldest continuously developed area of Vietnam. Its history spans 2,000 years and represents the heart and soul of the city. Dating back to the 11th century when the Vietnamese attained independence, the Old Quarter acquired its reputation as a crafts area, and it morphed into cooperatives/guilds and villages by the 13th century. Members, working and living together, developed a cooperative system for transporting merchandise to the business district.

The villages became streets in a very homogenous manner. The market stalls evolved into homes and because the storekeepers were taxed according to the width of the storefront, storage and living quarters moved to the rear. Consequently the narrow buildings were called “tube houses”; they typically measured about 9 feet by 200 feet.

The rich religious heritage grew parallel with the development of the guilds. As craftsmen moved into the capital they brought their religious practices and transferred their temples and pagodas.

Although the Old Quarter is often called The 36 Streets, it is misnamed, as there is almost twice that number today. There are many different theories on the origin of the name. One is that the number 36 refers to the number of guild locations in the 15th century. As the streets were later developed, each acquired a guild name. The written history of the country offers a plethora of ideas on the subject.

Some streets have achieved fame by their inclusion in popular guidebooks. Hang Gai Street offers silk clothing ready-made and tailored, embroidery, and silver products. Jenny bought some lovely silk shirts.

A majority of the street names in the Old Quarter start with the word hang, which means merchandise or shop. The guild streets were named for their product, service or location. Hang Bac, one of the oldest streets in Vietnam, dates from at least the 13th century. Bac means silver, and appropriately, this street started as a silver ingot factory under the reign of Le Thanh Tong (1469-1497).

Hang Thiec is the street of tinsmiths. The craftsmen originally produced small tin cone-shaped tips, which were used to preserve the shape of the traditional conical hats. The range of products has increased significantly. The street echoes busily with the clanging of hammers against the sheet metal. Workers spread out on the sidewalk shaping metal storage boxes and other objects to custom order.

In Dana Sach’s memoir, The House on Dream Street, the title refers to the street where she lived which housed motorcycle repair shops. The Honda Dream is the gold standard of motorcycles in Vietnam. It is a common practice for the shopkeepers to extend their shops onto the sidewalk and sometimes, into the street itself. It makes walking hazardous to one’s health, climbing over tools and dodging puddles of soapy water from freshly washed cycles.

An evening performance of the water puppets proved more enjoyable than just being a “tourist trap”! Water puppetry is believed to have originated in the Red River delta in the 11th century. The vignettes are snapshots of the daily activities in the rural areas of Vietnam. Often performed in a lake or pond, there is a permanent theater in Hanoi where the art has developed into an important part of the country’s cultural heritage. A traditional Vietnamese band, composed of two sided drums (trong com), cymbals, flutes, gongs, ancient-style guitars and other traditional percussion instruments, accompanies the performance. The “Phoenix Rising” was one of my favorites and I managed to capture it (in its entirety) as a video!

Tomorrow – another day of seeing the sights in Hanoi…
Of course, the adventure continues!

The Perfume River – Not as Fragrant as One Would Expect

2009-08-24T05:23:00.000-07:00

The Tombs of the Emperors was the theme of our morning activity. A boat cruise on the Perfume River is the usual mode of transportation; however, we decided to drive to the tombs and get a head start on the usual crowds that flock to these favorite tourist spots. It was a smart decision!

The royal tombs, scattered on both sides of the Perfume River (south east of the Citadel in Hue) are monuments to nine of the thirteen rulers of the Nguyen Dynasty. Most of them were built during the Emperor’s lifetime. Although the buildings reflect the individuality of the Emperor, the structures themselves share certain design conventions. The design and construction follow strict rules; at times, requiring substantial modifications to the existing landscape to ensure that the sight lines and orientation of the elements follow celestial and supernatural forces. The five requirements are (1) a courtyard with stone effigies of elephants, horses and mandarins; (2) a pavilion containing a massive stele with eulogies to the departed incumbent; (3) a temple containing an altar for worshipping the Emperor’s soul; (4) a pleasure pavilion, and (5) the tomb itself.

We would be joining the masses at the three most popular sites. The most majestic is that of Emperor Minh Mang, the second emperor in the Nguyen Dynasty. He was a staunch follower of Confucianism with many wives, concubines and a small army of children. Planned by the Emperor himself, and built shortly after his death, it is opulent and exotic, and laid out in formal Chinese style.

As we walked from the parking lot to the tomb, the surroundings were beautiful and serene. The reflection in the lake literally stopped me in my tracks.

As expected, there were animal effigies on one side of the courtyard, and the mandarins on the other.

As with many of the pavilions, the stairs are a great backdrop for a Kodak moment. The landscaping between the buildings is particularly well maintained.

Between the pavilion and the temple, Minh Mang’s “monogram” was re-created in the formal garden.

With the possible exception of Khai Dinh’s monument, no other tomb approaches the level of unity of the elements of Minh Mang's tomb. Its layout and symmetry draws the eye naturally towards the main features, and the architectural balance blends the elements into a pleasing whole.

On the return trip, the vendors (in this case many very young children) were there to greet us. “ma-dame-would-you-buy-some-ba-nan-as?” was spoken in the sweetest of voices with a staccato rhythm. Caroline couldn’t resist!

The tomb of Tu Duc, the ‘poet Emperor’, is set in an elegant garden with a magnificent lake and pavilion complex. TuDuc was the fourth Emperor and reigned from 1847-1883. The centerpiece of the tomb is simplicity itself, which is in sharp contrast to the lavish opulence of his reign (it’s really just a monument – he was buried elsewhere to thwart grave robbers).

Despite his cultural pursuits and desire to achieve a humble lifestyle, it was under Tu Duc that the Nguyen court reached its zenith of lavish opulence. Tu Duc withdrew into court life, seemingly indifferent to the people he ruled, and the brutal treatment of the three thousand artisans and workers pressed into service to build his tomb.

The entire compound at Tự Đức's tomb complex was carefully laid out according to Chinese Feng Shui principles, with angles set just right an lots of barriers (or screens) included to block and confuse evil spirits.

In complete contrast to Emperor Tu Duc's stylish creation, the tomb of Emperor Khai Dinh is of great interest as an architectural watershed, the cusp between the influences of a Chinese past and a Western oriented future. The lavish embellishments of fragments of ceramics and glass for decoration inside the tomb come as a shock after the grimy and rather somber façade and courtyard. A golden effigy of the Emperor seated on his throne under a magnificent cement canopy extravagantly decorated with ceramic fragments could be regarded as a masterpiece.

We returned to Hue for a boat ride on the Perfume River. By and large, the river did live up to the romantic analogies that I had read in many of the guidebooks. I know that its name: the Perfume River conjures up olfactory pleasantries; unfortunately, this was not the case.

The boats that were tied up on both sides of the river were reminiscent of the overcrowding on the streets in many large cities. The facilities on the boats were spartan at best; the river itself was an integral part the occupants living quarters. There were sections on the river that reminded me of “public housing” in the states.
Water travel is a significant means of transportation in Hue.

Further down the river, there were houses on the riverbanks. They appeared to be well tended.

On our way back to the hotel, we toured a crafts workshop where the women were embroidering a variety of pictures.

It was an early night for us, as we would be catching an early plan for a flight to Hanoi.
And the adventure continues…

2009-08-24T05:02:00.000-07:00

Hue – It’s Two Syllables and Not a Color

2009-06-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

Hue was the destination. Let’s get to the pronunciation. Penny thought it took me a very long time to get it right! It is not like the English word for color. It should have one of those little things over the “e”, but I don’t have that on my computer. The nuances of the pronunciations vary according to the region of the country, but “Who A” will be understood!

Spanning both sides of the Perfume River, the Imperial City of Hue is one of the most popular destinations in Vietnam. It is well known for its numerous 19th century ruins, royal tombs and of course a market. We checked in to our hotel (2-3 stars are more than adequate) and had enough time and energy to wander through the market. After the solitude of My Son, the rush hour traffic of two-wheelers (motorized and not) was at times overwhelming!

Dong Bo Market was busy and it had something for everyone: inside booths and outside stalls had produce, spices and a particularly large selection of seafood. Unfortunately, there were way too many flies for my liking. There were many Kodak moments, nonetheless.

As we headed out to dinner, the heavens opened up: thunder, lightening and a deluge of rain, coinciding with a momentary loss of electricity. Did I mention that Hue has the distinction of being one of the rainiest cities (about 120” each year) in Vietnam? This was our first rain.

By the morning the temperatures were in the 80’s and significantly less humid for the moment. Our first stop was the Imperial Citadel, a 6 square mile walled fort that dominates the city. Construction of the citadel was begun in 1804 and it served as Vietnam's capital until around 1945. This moated area includes the Thai Ho Palace and Forbidden Purple City, the former home of the royal family. The first thing you'll see on approaching it is Cot Co, the big flag tower.

The main entrance, through the Noon Gate, is so named because the sun, representing the emperor, is at its highest at noon. Facing south, the gate is also associated with prosperity. (I need to mention here that I became a millionaire in Vietnam – more about that later.) The Palace is the most important of the structures as this is where the emperor received important Vietnamese dignitaries and foreign diplomats.

The Noon Gate is behind us in this snap. Only the Emperor could use the central doorway, nobles used the side doors and mounted horsemen used arched doorways further to the side. The gate, constructed in 1833, is built in a U-shape to symbolize open arms for guests and incorporates repeated uses of the number 5 and 9 -- the luckiest numbers. 100 columns support the upper portion of the building.
I was fascinated by the decorative use of colored china and porcelain in the construction of all the buildings. The big drum is a magnet for tourist’s fingers!

There were a few busloads of school children visiting today and it appeared that this was the setting for their class picture.

I had to laugh when I remember my own grade school class pictures being taken on the stage of the auditorium.

The main palace inside, the Thai Hoa Palace, is ornately decorated in red lacquer and gold.

Further in, there are the halls of the mandarins on either end - military mandarins on one side and civil on the other. These halls were where the mandarins dressed in their ceremonial robes for royal functions.

Much of the interior was destroyed during the 1968 Tet offensive when the North Vietnamese held the fort for 26 days before being driven out by American forces. The damage inflicted to the architecture is still being repaired, but the Citadel may never be fully restored.

The moat is well stocked with carp; they are especially large from being fed by many tourists. There is a tale from Vietnamese folklore about a carp that wanted to become a dragon. The carp worked so hard everyday that it eventually became a dragon. Teachers and parents use this story to encourage their children to work hard at school so that they can become whatever they want to be.

The Thai Binh Lau (Royal Library) stands in a garden with a small pond and a large bonsai.

Beyond there were pavilions used by concubines.

Walking to the back of the citadel there was little to see. The theme of the dragon is very visible in the design of this pond as well as on many of the steps. The dragon symbolizes power and has long been associated with the emperors.

On the return, we turned down a side path to The Temple.

Outside, there are nine urns, cast at the request of Emperor Minh Mang in 1836, with nine different names symbolizing the Nguyen dynasty.

On each of the urns is a finely carved collection of the 17 traditional Vietnamese patterns like stars, rivers, mountains, seas an ocean, vehicles, forestry and sea products. The patterns on these urns constitute a real encyclopedia on the country. This precious cultural heritage is incredibly well preserved and reflects the exquisite talent of Hue bronze casting artisans.

The are many exits from the Citadel and some are more decorative than others. This one was one of my favorites.

On the left bank of the Perfume River set high on Ha Khe hill is a Buddhist temple that dates to the turn of the 17th century.

Thien Mu Pagoda, a seven-storey pagoda is one of the oldest and most beautiful of the religious buildings in the country. Located between a river and a pine forest, the pagoda is deeply rooted in local legend. As the story goes, an old woman once appeared on the hill and said that a Lord would come and build a Buddhist pagoda for the country's prosperity. Hearing of this, Lord Nguyen Hoang ordered the construction of the pagoda of the "Heavenly Lady" (Thien Mu).

The pagoda was renovated in 1665. A stele was erected on the back of a marble tortoise in 1715.

There is a special sort of "shrine" here to one of the former monks of the temple. At one end of a carport is an old rusty sky blue Austin on blocks.

It was in this car that the monk, Thich Quang Duc took himself to his self-immolation in a busy Saigon intersection in 1963. He was protesting against the persecution of Buddhists by South Vietnam's administration. Photos of his self-immolation were circulated widely around the world and brought attention to the policies of the Diem regime.

Behind the tower, the main sanctuary is situated at the back of a pleasant courtyard. In addition to the monks’ quarters, there are rooms for the novices, whom were walking about the courtyard when we were there.

Phung found a great lunch spot and it was almost like being in cooking school, only we were not cooking.

I photographed most of the shrines that were omnipresent.

After lunch we bicycled (hold on to the handlebars tightly) through the city to the home of a royal descendant. I thought this little oasis in the city was called the Temple of the Princess, but it might be a figment of my imagination. Within the walls of this estate was a feng shui designed sanctuary.

This delightful man, a bit self-serving, is connected to the royal family by marriage. We had a guided tour of the garden and then the house. His historical artifacts and memorabilia are extensive and he had stories about each piece.

Our brains were overloaded with new knowledge and it was time to tend to our bodies. Penny, Jenny and Caroline had decided early on that a massage in each city was reasonable. We found an establishment that appeared legitimate and we went in.

We started laughing when we were handed the smallest of towels to wrap ourselves in. Communication was a bit problematic, but eventually we were given towels large enough to cover-up.

This was my first experience of having a very petite Asian woman jump up onto the massage table with me. Quite an experience – enough said!

And the adventure continues as we explore the Perfume River…

Going to Heaven – Really?

2009-06-01T16:49:00.000-07:00

We were heading north into Central Vietnam and opted for an early departure to avoid some of the heat and the crowds of tourists who descend upon My Son. From Hoi An north to the former DMZ, the central part of the country is rich in historical sights and has a comparable amount of natural beauty.

If one thought that the Chinese shaped Vietnam until the French moved in, My (pronounced me) Son is the evidence that there was Indian influence as well. The kingdom of Champa flourished from the 2nd to the 15th century; the remains of the kingdom are mainly found at My Son. At its pinnacle, Champa controlled the entire central coast of what would later become Vietnam. The Chams, Hinduised through their trading contacts with India, functioned as a so-called confederation of five states that were named after regions of India. One in particular is Amaravati (Quang Nam).

At the beginning of the 10th century Champa was under military and political pressure, and lost ground during each decade moving forward. By the late 1400’s, Champa was essentially a “broken” country. It wasn’t until the 1800’s under the reign of Minh Mang, that the Vietnamese were victorious in taking the area as well as the southern Cambodian areas of the Mekong Delta and Prey Nokor (later named Saigon).

Although Champa disappeared, the Cham people did not. While the kingdom was enveloped by the Vietnamese, some of the Cham remained in their former homeland and others fled to neighboring Cambodia. Today, the “Eastern Cham” are divided between the Mekong Delta in the south and the central coast. They are Muslim and Hindu respectively. The “Western Cham” in Cambodia adopted Islam centuries ago. The legacy of the Champa, both religious and artistic, has survived in this area.

The ancient Cham ruins at My Son provide a journey back in time. The rust colored ruins covered in a leafy sea of myrtle and green vegetation are all that remain of the religious capital of Amaravati, the greatest of the Cham states. Built in the 4th century, the Kingdom remained fully occupied for 1000 years. This makes it the longest occupied of all the major monuments of Southeast Asia. The backdrop of Cat’s Tooth Mountain (God Mountain) was planned. It served as a religious and intellectual center where Champa kings were crowned and buried.

The Cham worshipped a dual cosmology, honoring both male and female deities.

My Son represented the male God king – evidenced by the sacred Cat’s Tooth Mountain and Bhadresvarain ( Bhad abbreviated for king; esvara abbreviated for Lord Shiva). My Son was the creation of its own cosmos: Cat’s Tooth Mountain, an earthly linga, as the symbolic link between heaven and earth and a nearby river representing female fertility.

The temples of the Champa follow one basic design. They represent the Hindu abode of God and face the rising sun in the east; there is normally a Shivalinga at the center of the sanctum sanctorum; and they are usually three stories high and were a simple interior.

The ornaments were attached after construction and then “fired” from the heat of a wood fire that burned around the structure for days. The outer walls of brick and sandstone were carved with amazing detail after construction.

During the height of the Champa kingdom, only a handful of attendants would have lived at My Son. When we arrived at the ruins, we were early enough to enjoy the solitude and beauty. It was easy to imagine these ancient structures decorated with colorful flags and energized with the humming of the monks’ incantations. You can feel the mysticism of the Gods of a bygone era.

Sadly, the last vestiges of the Champa Kingdom are in a significant state of disrepair.

The temples sustained major damage during the American War. The Viet Cong used My Son as a key base, which forced US bombing of the site leaving about 20 of the original 70 structures intact. Bomb craters next to some of the temples are clearly visible. A major restoration project is underway. There is one riddle regarding the construction of the buildings that hasn’t been solved. How were the Chams able to build brick structures without cement or glue?

The site is often compared with some of the other great Indian influenced archaeological sites of SE Asia including Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Ayuthaya in Thailand. Apparently not as grand as what you would find in either of these countries, it is a major contribution to Vietnam's history. In 1999 it was named a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Caroline, Jenny’s French friend from her high school days as an exchange student in France, has spent quite a bit of time in Viet Nam over the past ten years. She has raised money for schools in rural villages.

A building project was currently underway and we all wanted to see the school and children. It was off the beaten path, to say the least, but well worth the detour.

We were warmly greeted and the children loved having their pictures taken.

The new addition would more than double the size of the current schoolhouse. Noontime dismissal was interesting, as bikes seem to me the major mode of transportation.

And the bikes were loaded!

The drive to Hue, our ultimate destination, is said to be the most scenic in all of Vietnam. The road, of course, is narrow and climbs at a steep grade along the coast. The 12 mile drive (just a bit different from the one in Newport, RI) was complete with switchbacks, hairpin turns, waterfalls and dense vegetation on the mountainside and breathtaking views of the bowl-shaped Bay of DaNang on the other. Amid the beauty of this vista, ironically, is a leper colony.

We climbed through many curves for close to an hour. Although a bit hazy at the crest of the Hai Van Pass, we lucked out with the weather. Hai Van means "Sea Clouds”, but the clouds would not ruin our day! It was a Kodak moment we couldn’t resist.

Let me go back to the title of the blog –“ Going to Heaven – Really?” As often as our guide Phung mentioned our route for the day, I always heard “heaven”, which at many points made sense, knowing that the road climbed to an elevation of over 1200 feet. It was only after doing a map check enroute, that I realized we would go through the Hai Van (not Heaven) Pass. Duh… So to answer that question – No, not really heaven, but glorious nonetheless!

Although not able to capture the “big picture” in my “snaps” the wide-angle view from the crest of the pass, captures both North and South Vietnam. Hai Van pass forms an imaginary boundary between the two.

There are remnants of the fortifications built by the French and later used by the South Vietnamese and the Americans. We had to stop here. Out of nowhere came a small group of souvenir sellers. One of the women was close on Jenny’s heels as she climbed this rock.

She was the most aggressive (still talking to us as the van door was closing on her basket) we encountered during the whole trip.

It was all downhill from here. The hairpin turns seemed sharper, but the valleys, rice fields and lagoons were beautiful to see.

We stopped for lunch at the village of Lang Co. The restaurant sits on a peninsula, which separates a shallow lagoon from the sea.

Dining on the porch, we indulged in what felt like a decadent lunch of grilled calamari and tamarind crab (which is much too much work for me).

Our server facilitated getting the crab meat out!

The remainder of the drive had small hills but more magnificent vistas. It was hard not to stop but there were only so many Kodak moment pit stops to make. As we got closer to Hue, the panoramic vistas gave way to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was wonderful to savor the beauty of this day.

And the adventure continues in Hue…

Viet Nam: Let’s Start at the Very Beginning

2009-05-28T06:30:00.001-07:00

Can you hum that tune – the Do-Re-Mi Lyrics? There were many firsts as I boarded my flight to Tokyo and on to Ho Chi Minh City. The first was the adventure of getting to JF Kennedy Airport in New York on public transportation! The second, undoubtedly, was the longest flight I had ever taken and Ambien was in order for some uninterrupted sleep. It all worked perfectly!

Landing in Tan Son Nhat International Airport left me with a little knot in my stomach wondering if the “plan” would come together. My suitcase was on the carousel and I breathed my first sigh of relief. The second big sigh was completing the “visa on arrival” process.

I was engulfed in a sauna as I exited the airport. It was still amazingly hot and humid at midnight: 29 degrees centigrade (85 humid degrees!). There were hundreds of people with lots of luggage, not really luggage but boxes of stuff meeting people outside the airport. Scanning the crowd, looking for a perfect stranger, had to be the most anxiety producing moment! Finally, my name – in English! The third big sigh was the charmer! I found MY driver. Meet Duong.

My stay at the hotel was limited to a few hours of shuteye and a middle of the night (4 am) return to the airport for an early morning flight to DaNang. I vaguely remember closing my eyes!

Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon, is the largest city in the country. It was here that I had my introduction to electricity in Vietnam.

Energy conservation – the key has to be inserted in this wall-mounted outlet for the lights AND air conditioning to work. Brilliant, it is impossible to leave the lights or air on when you are not in the room. The overall management of electricity is another story – it really isn’t managed and these nests of electrical wires abound!

It was a quick flight and my guide, Phung, found me and we were on our way to Hoi Ann.

I had the Cliff notes tour of DaNang: the bunker remains of an American Army installation just south of the city, the beautiful and famous Marble Mountain, and miles of beautiful beaches. Given the state of the economy in the states, I was amazed at the amount of active construction. There were major resorts being built near the beaches, including two golf courses.

There are almost 20 miles of beach along this section of the country; between DaNang and Hoi Ann is China Beach. It is most well known of these beaches having earned its reputation as a favorite place for American soldiers on R & R during the war, on a dramatic TV show, by the same name, in the late 80’s into the 90’s.

Hoi Ann, my destination, is a seaport that was used by the Champa Kingdom from the 2nd to the 10th centuries. This trading port had been home to Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, Portuguese and French merchants at various times over the years. The efforts of each of the successive regimes to influence development are evidenced in the diverse architecture that remains today. Hoi An, spared the ravages of war, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

I found Penny, Jenny and Caroline having breakfast at a virtual oasis of tropical paradise near the Old City.

The Vuon Trau Family Resort was lush and serene, complete with hibiscus, frangipani, fishponds and singing (or talking) tropical birds in large bamboo cages. How cool is this to rendezvous with my friends on the other side of the planet? We had breakfast in the garden and I caught my breath briefly before we headed off to cooking school and a tour of the market.

Penny and Jenny are part of the Moosewood Collective in Ithaca, New York. They cook for a living. I knew that going to cooking school with them would be fun. Our destination was the Morning Glory Cooking School. Here’s an analogy - My Vy : Hoi An : : Stephen Starr : Philadelphia. Both have influenced and elevated the food scene in their respective cities by opening many successful restaurants.

Today, Ms Lu would be filling in for Ms Vy who is taking a maternity leave from the day-to-day business at the restaurant and cooking school. First stop was the market: Ms Lu pointed out the local produce, spices, noodles, rice crackers and seafood. Our young teacher had boundless energy and we were on the go weaving our way through the bustling stalls! I’m sure you know by now how much I enjoy taking photos in the market! As we were leaving, Ms Lu “confessed” that the woman who was cutting pineapple was her mother.

Back in the kitchen at the Morning Glory cooking school,

we donned our aprons and got to work. Ms Lu was a great teacher and our results looked almost like hers!

We made spring rolls, learning the fine art of handling rice papers; crispy Vietnamese pancake with shrimp, mastering the frying of the crepe, green papaya salad and a barbeque grilled chicken (my absolute favorite) to die for!

We were on a tight schedule but wandered through the old city on the way back to our “piece of paradise”.

It was hot and the beach was calling.

We decided to get some exercise and pedal our way seeing the sights along the way. It was a relatively flat ride with beautiful scenery at each bend in the road. A slipping chain required mechanical assistance.

Swimming in the South China Sea – "delicious" is the adjective that my sister often uses to describe perfect water!

The beach was great, complete with umbrellas and lounge chairs. We hung out for a while before continuing our loop on the back roads through small villages where the farmers grow herbs and greens.

They are the most beautifully manicured vegetable gardens. (Mr Bill was having fun as well.) This felt like full circle in reverse, as the herbs and greens in the fields were what we saw at the market this morning.

The owners of our bungalow invited all the guests to a “family” dinner in the garden courtyard. We were a cast of characters right out of a John Irving novel: Penny and Jenny, restaurant people from upstate NY; a retired Canadian couple who spend quite a bit of time in Vietnam volunteering their time to assist NGO’s, a Dutch family with 3 year old son, who were traveling with her mother and a friend; a young couple (university professors) from Utah with 10 year old son, my roommate, Caroline, French by birth currently living in Amsterdam who has traveled to Vietnam 20 time over the past 10 years, and me, the school nurse on an educational sabbatical from Philadelphia. Does Hotel New Hampshire sound familiar? It was interesting dinner conversation, but jet lag caught up with me and I turned in early when my eyelids would not stay open.

And the adventure continues (after a night of sleep in a real bed)…

Sapa: Mountain Peaks, Amazing Women, Fog and Rain

2009-05-14T16:30:00.000-07:00

I heard the rain and thunder during the night and remember thinking, as I fell back to sleep, that maybe the storm would pass through the mountains and clear with the rising sun in the morning.

At daybreak it was obviously NOT to be. The hotel was shrouded in the grayness of low hanging storm clouds. The discussion at breakfast was “what to do?” It was telling that Penny, who never needs protection from the elements, had acquired an umbrella from the hotel staff.

Our planned destination was Cat Cat, a village about 2 miles to the south. The distance wasn’t the problem; the terrain was. It was a very steep and rocky trek. Add the rain and mud and it would be treacherous. Without a view, it was a no-brainer!

Phung decided that ponchos were in order if we were going to venture outside.

We headed out and for a brief moment, the clouds settled below the mountain peak – it was very cool.

We decided to go to the market and see the handicrafts of Red Dao.

The daytime market doesn’t compare to the folklore of the former Saturday evening market. As the story goes, Sapa was famous for its “love market”. This cultural highlight used to be the place for tribal locals to find a partner and get married.

Tradition has it that young Red Dao used to come to Sapa and sing songs to find their partners. Girls, hidden in the dark, would sing, play panpipes and mouth organs. When found by a boy - if they liked each other - they would disappear into the forest for three days. Some of them got married after that.

With the development of tourism, the real love market no longer takes place. There is a representative performance of the singing and rituals on Saturday evening in one of the community buildings.

Sapa would be considerably less colorful and interesting without the H’mong and Dao people, the largest ethnic groups in the region. The H’mong are more numerous and resourceful. Their villages may look primitive but most will have mobile phones and an email address to stay in touch. Traditionally, they were the poorest of the poor but have rapidly learned the spirit of free enterprise. Most of the Montagnards have no formal education but the arrival of foreigners/tourists has made them well aware of the value of money and many of the youngsters have picked up a basic level of English, French and a handful of other languages.

The incursion of tourism has forever changed the local tribes. Their simple lives: the cultures and languages, customs and clothing, with a backdrop of mountainous beauty are the attraction. The local women’s pursuit of tourists down Sapa’s main street, bartering over colorful clothing and souvenirs, can be an annoyance for those hoping to be left alone.

The rain really didn’t stop business in town. Umbrellas and ponchos were selling briskly and the Black Hmong women seemed to have matching umbrellas as they walked up the main street pursuing sales!

The market where the Red Dao were working was bustling. The billowing red headdresses of the Red Dao are visible all over town.

It is a surreal sight amid the accelerating development; that translates into hand embroidery and using cell phones simultaneously.

There were heavy negotiations over some handicrafts; photographs were involved. And there were some angry Red Dao as well. We made our purchases and continued through the remainder of the market to check out produce (greens galore, banana flowers, and bamboo) and poultry (chicken feet) among other items. There is always a Kodak moment to be found!

As the rained slowed we decided to make our way to the waterfall. Thac Bac (Silver Waterfall), with a height of more than 325 feet, is one of the highest waterfalls in the country.

It was a loop track, steep and scenic, and there were stairs all the way. Phung, Jenny and I decided to climb and we left Caroline and Penny with the vendors by the barbeques I’d taken on the role of stair counting: 473 to the top and 488 coming down the other side.

We had a snack of roasted sweet potatoes and eggs, rice stuffed in bamboo, and tea before heading on our way. Mr Bill was right there with us; on the grill, almost in the fire!

We drove to Ta Phin Village, home to Red Dao and about 6 miles from Sapa. Our arrival coincided with a few other larger vans with many more tourists. This allowed us to slip through most of the gauntlet of red headed women and children anxious to have a conversation and a sale with the tourists.

The scenario repeats itself at most of the villages: “Hello…what is your name? Where are you from? How old are you? How many children do you have?“ Most of the woman speak just enough of many languages to make an instant connection. More amazing is that these language skills are acquired from speaking with and making contacts with tourists.

I must say that there is always something to see in each village. I loved this young boy riding the water buffalo.

It felt as though spring was in the air. There were babies everywhere: humans,

ducks,

and pigs.

Ta Phin is one of the villages that offers overnight community-based tours. They have upgraded some of the facilities and offer an “up close and personal” experience of living amongst the minorities.

We stopped to see the ruins of an old church that was beautiful in its decay. The building had crumbled, but enough detail remained amid the moss to capture a by gone era.

Leaving Sapa, one might see stunning scenery on the passes were it not for the hovering clouds and fog. Intermittent clearing gave us snippets of the magnificent mountain peaks and vertical rice terraces.

I was sad to leave the mountains. There were still places to see and treks to make. It had been a pleasant relief to leave the hustle and bustle of the city.

Enroute to LaoCai, we stopped by the Sino-Vietnam border; it was the closest I would get to China on this Asian adventure!

We saw all that LaoCai had to offer (which really was not much) while we waited for a very delayed overnight train to Hanoi.

We settled into our “deluxe” sleeper cabin and realized that a later departure was advantageous, as we would have a later arrival (6:30am) in Hanoi. I was lulled to sleep in the rocking cabin.

And the adventure continues in Hanoi…

A Day of Trekking in SaPa

2009-04-29T06:26:00.000-07:00

Vietnam is a country of ethnic minorities, with over 50 of them recognized by the Vietnamese government. The two largest groups are the Kinh (Viet) and the Hoa (Chinese), accounting for 86% of the population. The remaining ethnic minorities are known as the montagnards (mountain people), so named by the French.

The Hmong and the Zao are the largest groups in SaPa. Each of the groups has its own cultural heritage, lifestyle and language. Having settled in the mountains more than 5,000 years ago, the tribes still hold fast to custom and rituals. Historically, these groups have not been educated. The women, however, have been very industrious with embroidered clothing and handicrafts.

Located near the Chinese border in NW Vietnam. SaPa is often called as "the Tonkinese Alps". It is an incredibly picturesque village, not unlike any of the ski villages in the Alps. The big draw to the area is the trekking expeditions out to local villages and beyond. With the backdrop of the Fanxipan peak at over 10,000 feet, there is spectacular scenery everywhere; that is when the area is not shrouded in a low lying cloud or fog!

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as we headed down the paved road; but when we stopped at the top of the dirt turnoff, I should have realized the adventure would begin in earnest. We would leave the road for a steep descent over a dirt road toward the rice terraces. Enroute we pass a few houses, buffaloes, pigs,and of course the H'mong girls trying to sell us their goods.

Women and children selling a variety of souvenirs AND bamboo walking sticks greeted us. We debated amongst ourselves about a purchase, and then with a young boy about the cost of the bamboo pole. In the end, we each spent 5,000 VN dong (roughly 50 cents) for a touch of security and stability. As I write this sounds it sounds absolutely absurd, but in the moment, it was real!

The women and children are persistent in their sales approach. ”Hello, will you buy from me?” “What is your name?” “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” And the questions go on. Having learned the language from other tourists, they have the ability to bond with you on many levels. The chatter continues and at some point I realized that these women would be with us for the day! I did not know at the time how opportune that would be.

Yesterday we saw many of the terraced plantings from afar. They are a magnificent vista. It’s only when I got “up close and personal” that I realized that the terraces were all flooded with water. (Think mud!)

The rice fields are completely under water, which is refreshed continuously by the water flowing from the mountains. The water flows from one rice field to another via small canals until it reaches the river in the valley. The rice is planted three times each year with a 3-month growth cycle. The various shades of green that we have seen are month two in the growth cycle.

I want to give you a clear visual on the non-terra firma! Yes, this meant that at different points I would be trekking across a stonewall that felt like a 4 inch balance beam!

Did I mention that I loved my bamboo walking stick? I was doing pretty well, not feeling confident, but managing and then this very rough hand took mine and kept me on the very narrow edge of the stonewall.

It was Girl Power all the way! So how do you thank these women for their guiding hands? Giving them a tip is not culturally acceptable, so purchasing some of their embroidered handicrafts is the best option. I have a new embroidered cummerbund!

As we continued on the trail, the footing was more secure and we walked through very small villages. More often than not, we were the only trekkers; that allowed us the quietude to really take in the environs.

The terraced landscape was a constant, the homes varied: some were in disrepair and others were well constructed.

Open fires (in the houses) for cooking and drying meat were common.

There were children everywhere, as the morning session of school had dismissed.

We heard music as we passed through a village and stopped in for a closer look. A young man was playing a keyboard, and it was pure gold to our ears.

Caroline took a turn on the “ivories” and this young man was intently watching and listening. We continued to listen, after bidding farewell, as our new friend resumed practicing and it sounded familiar. This young musician had mastered Caroline’s tune melody and replayed it was we left the church.

The river itself was low and we crossed a very rocky beach before coming upon another “toll bridge”.

This one was not as well maintained as the previous one, but nonetheless, there was a fee to cross. Because it felt like a tightrope, my hands were trembling too much for any photos - a "missed" kodak moment!

Back in town, we walked up hundreds of steps to the top of Dragon Jaw Mountain, which has a botanical garden and a small performing center. The fog had settled in and the view was the length of our arms. As the saying goes, “over here you would see….” (Caroline promised to send pictures of previous visits when the sun was shining!)

We saw an ethnic dance performance and I must admit that I had a laughing attack when a young man was “making music”, blowing into a leaf. On the return trip down the hundreds of steps, we stopped for an herbal bath and massage.

This wooden tub was filled with the hottest brown, herb infused water my little tootsies have ever touched. This is a picture of my massage girl, and the older woman who owns the place. The massages are inexpensive by US standards, and the technique differs as well. The first time this young girl hopped up onto the table with me I wasn’t quite sure what to do! (Breathe deeply…in and out…)

We made our way back to the village stopping for a snack at the corner. It is a very common sight for women to set up a small barbeque and cook kebabs of beef, lamb, small “unnamed” birds; roast eggs, chestnuts or sticky rice in bamboo. We pulled up stools and sat for a while.

Later that evening we headed out to sample a Vietnamese specialty, Hot Pot: a simmering metal pot of stock. While the hot pot is kept simmering, ingredients are placed into the pot and are cooked at the table.

Our hot pot included lots of leafy greens, mushrooms, tofu, and ginger. The cooked food is usually eaten with noodles and a dipping sauce. The greens that we had were wonderful!

With our stomachs full and my bed calling to me, the adventure continues….

The Fanxipan Express

2009-03-30T16:56:00.001-07:00

I’ve been in Viet Nam for a week, taking in the sights and struggling with an enormous amount of history that I don’t think that I ever learned. I’ll get back to the sights of the first week later on. We left Hanoi last night on the overnight train, the Fanxipan Express, to Lao Cai, a small town on the China border. Hanoi was participating in a Save the Earth program and the lights were dimmed at 8:30pm. We were waiting by the railroad tracks; ready to board the train and it became apparent that there was a problem. Our car was missing. Wait long enough and magic happens: a car backs up and attaches itself to the train. We were good to go! There is nothing like riding in the caboose, with your fingers crossed, hoping that the mechanic hooked the last car up correctly!

I don’t know when I was last on an overnight train, if ever, but it was cozy and comfortable enough for a few hours sleep. Let me introduce my cabin mates. Penny Goldin is a childhood friend of mine; she and her friend, Jenny Wang are both members of the Moosewood collective in Ithaca, NY. Caroline Chauteau, a French woman living in Amsterdam, is a friend of Jenny’s dating back to a high school exchange program in France. Caroline has traveled often to Viet Nam and was the organizer of this great adventure. That is the cast of characters, in addition to our guide Phung (who was not sharing a cabin with us!)

The train rocked and rolled and chugged along climbing to over 4000ft in elevation during the 8 hour ride. Our arrival in Lao Cai seemed to be the morning alarm for the town. It came alive. A quick breakfast at a local restaurant and we were on our way to the BacHa Market. Although only 40 km away, the drive to BacHa over winding narrow roads with many switchbacks, that climbed another 1000 vertical feet, would take almost 2 hours!

The market, as promised was large and colorful. The Flower Hmong people predominate, and they are friendly, photogenic and persistent saleswoman.

This weekly market is a major gathering place and meals are prepared in addition to everything (fruits, vegetables, spices, tobacco), and anything (tools, wooden yokes for the water buffalo, brooms, and animals). We did our part to support the local economy.

Before leaving town, we stopped at the Hmong Kings House.

Built by the French colonists and Chinese in 1920, it is a beautiful saffron colored building that would fit right in with the mansions in Newport, RI.

The terra cotta roof is very distinctive. The house is vacant at this time, but plans are to develop a hotel at the site.

We stopped at a Hmong village and the children were thrilled that Phung had treats for them. They love having their pictures taken. The Flower Hmong people are best known for the colorful dress they wear. At this home, the grandmother was eager to join in the photo-op.

We trekked across the rice fields visiting the remote villages of the Black Yao, Nung and Phu La tribes on the way.

The manicured fields and vistas were breathtaking; the shades of green were endless.

We crossed this small bamboo toll bridge, which kept us out of the river and feet dry. The young woman who built the bridge has no problem charging for her efforts.

Did I mention that there are a lot of water buffalo? Mr Bill could not believe the size of this “patty” on the path. I have to admit that it was bigger that any bison deposits that I ever saw in Yellowstone!

At the water’s edge, we took a boat ride down the Chay River.

There were more beautiful vistas and an interesting industry of reclaiming sand from the water for construction.

We backtracked on the same winding road to La Cai and then up a similar winding to SaPa. There was a stark contrast in the dress of the people as we climbed toward SaPa: the Black Hmong, with black skirts and tops and Red Yao, with red triangle scarves covering the women’s heads made up the majority.

We checked into the Bamboo Sappa Hotel; the climb to our 5th floor rooms was worth the view alone!

Unfortunately, the clouds descended from the mountaintop before we were able to enjoy the sunset.

Tomorrow – more trekking and an adventure that continues…

Home Sweet Home

2009-03-30T07:59:00.001-07:00

There is nothing better than having your bags roll off the carousel timely and in one piece; even better is when you get to the train station at the airport and the train that pulls up, is the direct train to Jenkintown. All good! Let me add to the list: sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow…and having hundreds of pictures to entertain myself if the memories start to fade. Those are the highlights.

The lowlight is the “back to reality” thing. Worse, however, is rejection. I was actually shocked when I learned that my services were NOT needed at Yellowstone National Park this summer. Adding insult to injury, the WXPN Humanitarian Mission to Cuba (of which I was scheduled to attend) had been cancelled. Bummer!

I wasn’t even settled in at home, and I was restless. I had spoken with a friend, Penny before I left for Israel and we talked about travel plans. She was surprised that I was staying less than 6 weeks in Israel (she thought it was 3 months), and I was a bit envious that she was planning a Viet Nam trip for 3 weeks at the end of March.

I called and floated the idea of joining her in Viet Nam and a plan was hatched. I was able to buy a ticket the next day, and with a flurry of emails and the help of her friend who planned the trip, I would obtain a “visa upon arrival” in Ho Chi Minh City, fly to Danang, and meet them in Hoi Ann.

It felt a bit hectic reorganizing, but there was one highlight that I perceived to be my good luck omen. It involves my little friend Mr Bill, who has been traveling with me for almost a year now. Last June, when I was packing the car for my annual pilgrimage to RI, Mr Bill had a photo op riding on my bike that was on the roof rack. When I got to RI, I absolutely could not find him. Of course I figured he had an “oh noooooo..” moment under the tires of an 18-wheeler on the PA or NJ Turnpike. And I mourned his passing. I eventually found a new Mr Bill. Long story short, as I was driving out of my driveway one day when I was home, there was a very dirty Mr Bill sitting on the fence. He’d been in the yard for almost a year. Very dirty, but no worse for wear, he had the opportunity to meet his brother. Mr Bill #1 is looking a bit like Pigpen from the Peanuts strip, but still as photogenic as ever.

I transitioned nicely in East Coast time and within 8 days of returning home I was packed for yet another chapter of the great adventure (with Mr Bill #2 in my bag).

The Packer Cousins Tour –The Last Hurrah

2009-03-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

My sister, Gail and I had a couple of days to explore the city and check off everything on our “wish lists”. The group was slowly disbanding. We had kept a hectic pace over the past week and some down time was sorely needed.

My Sar-El friend Scott was still at the Adiv when we returned. We had an opportunity over dinner to rehash the highlights and lowlights of his Israel experience.

Gail and I decided that our remaining time in Israel would be a combination of R&R, culture and retail therapy. We planned our time accordingly. The sun was shining the next morning and the Mediterranean was calling to Gail. Since I had never taken a full plunge myself, I thought this was the golden opportunity.

The Rubin Museum, in the former residence of the Israeli painter Reuven Rubin, was on our short list for culture. Although many of the permanent Rubin pieces were in storage for a temporary exhibit, the Van Gogh exhibit was a reasonable substitute.

Rubin graduated in 1912 from the famous Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts. For the next few years, his travels took him to Paris, Italy and finally back to him homeland of Romania. He crossed the Atlantic in 1920 and his paintings were noticed enough to have a one man show in New York City later that year.The video and photographs of Reuven Rubin captured his colorful life.

In 1922 he opened his own studio in Tel Aviv. During his career, his works included woodcuts, paintings (often described as having a naïve style), and eventually designing sets for Tel Aviv theatres. Early on he was the chairman of the association for painters/sculptors. Rubin’s paintings primarily depicted the landscapes and life of Palestine. A collage of his works graced one of the downstairs ceilings.

A walking tour of Neve Tzedek was the default activity as we roamed the tiny streets looking for the Ayala Bar gallery/store. It is very much an artists’ community and many buildings become the actual canvas!

We past by an interesting ceramic studio, only to find out that the artist had a vessel in the Biennial Ceramics Exhibit at the Eretz Israel.

This was the piece in the show. Our sense of direction was working and we covered a large area on foot.

Since I was still in search of the best hummus, we had lunch at a small hummus spot in the north end of the city.

Yes your geography is correct, Neve Tzedek is in the southern end of the city and we crossed town to the river’s edge for a bowl of smashed chickpeas!

The city was getting ready for Purim. It was the full moon and children and adults alike were donning their costumes.

Only in Israel is the holiday celebrated as such. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do…” we found ourselves back at the synagogue on Bograshav to hear the reading of the Megillah. It was standing room only and Haman’s name brought a roar from the congregation. It was a toss-up for the best costumes: adults or children! The best part of the evening was that Gail was able to cross the last item on her wish list – dancing the horah in Israel. A Klezmer band started playing after the service was over.

We stopped to eat at a neighborhood café; the flatbread pizza was great.

Look closely at the sign; if you have any knowledge of the Hebrew letters, you have easily spot the "peh" and "zed". That's contemporary Hebrew! It was a shame we were too full for one last frozen yogurt at our favorite corner store. So the story goes - if you everything on your first trip, there is no reason to come back!

We had a 4am taxi to the airport. While we waited, Mr Bill had one last Kodak moment with Raviv the night desk clerk.

We had one good laugh as we were leaving; we could hear the “Oh Nooooooo……” coming from the computer in the office as Raviv checking out the story of Mr Bill.

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Tour – Back to the Negev

2009-03-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Saturday was another early checkout and departure. We were heading back to the Negev: this time to Masada and Ein Gedi National Park. The Packer Cousin’s Tour would officially be ending in Tel Aviv later in the day.

Our route from Jerusalem was the north-south highway near the West Bank. The security fence was intermittently visible. (This is where it might be helpful to say that the West Bank is an area in the eastern part of Israel along the western banks of the Jordan River.) We passed by the caves of Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.

The distinctive silhouette of Masada, situated atop an isolated rock cliff at the western end of the Judean Desert, is identifiable from miles away. The view of the Dead Sea is amazing.

It is a place majestic beauty. It was a big day for the cousins! As it turned out, this would be our only opportunity for the official group picture.

Joan had gotten us “family” t-shirts and we were looking our best! We smiled for many cameras in support of the theory that “more is better”.

Snake Path is the footpath on the eastern face that winds its way from the tourist center to top. The able-bodied were walking and remainder would take the cable car to the summit.

It was a “take-your breath away” hike; but one of my dreams come true. When I came last year, the tour company would not allow us to walk, and my year old disappointment would be resolved today! Mr Bill was along for the hike.

Years ago, the heroic story of Masada and its dramatic end attracted many explorers to the Judean desert in attempts to locate the remains of the fortress. The site was identified in 1842, but intensive excavations did not take place until the early 1960’s. This was with the help of hundreds of enthusiastic volunteers from around the world. To Israelis, Masada symbolizes the determination of the Jewish people to be free in its own land.

Its colorful history is best told by Josephus Flavius, a young Jew who became a Roman citizen and respected historian. (Many who would have been happy to see him killed also considered him a traitor.) During the 30’s BCE, the Roman overlords crowned an Idumean, named Herod, King of Judea. His Jewish subjects apparently hated him. As a master builder, Herod indulged every need and whim in the construction of Masada.

Some 75 years after Herod’s death, (66 CE) the Great Jewish Rebellion was successful in overcoming the Roman garrison of Masada. In turn, the Romans established camps at the base of Masada, laid siege to it and constructed a rampart using thousands of tons of stones and earth against the western approaches of the fortress. By 70 CE, with the fall of Jerusalem, the Zealots joined forces in Masada. For the next two years, they raided and harassed the Romans. In the spring of 74 CE, a battering ramp was able to breach the wall of the fortress.

Rather than be taken alive, Eleazar ben Ya’ir and a group of Zealot defenders, almost one thousand men, women and children, decided to burn the fortress and take their own lives. The Zealots cast lots; ten men were chosen to kill the remainder, and among themselves, chose the last Jew who would kill himself. Because Jewish law strictly forbids suicide, this decision sounds more shocking today than it probably did at the time. This, of course, is an abbreviated version; I trust my editing has not substantially changed the course of events.

Two thousand years have passed since the fall of Masada. The climate of the region and the remote location has helped to preserve its remains to an extraordinary degree. Masada was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2001.

There is an interesting tale that I heard while volunteering on the army base. Years ago, when Moshe Dayan was Chief of Staff of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), he initiated a custom of holding the swearing-in ceremony of new soldiers on the top of Masada. After the soldiers completed their basic training, they climbed Snake Path at night and were sworn in under the light of torches. The ceremony ends with the declaration: "Masada shall not fall again."

Our next stop was Nachal David, one of two spring fed streams and waterfalls in the National Park. Ein Gedi National Park was founded in 1972 and is one of the most important reserves in Israel. The park is situated on the eastern border of the Judean Desert and covers an area of 6,250 acres. The park is a sanctuary for many types of plant, bird and animal species. As a migratory path, an additional 200 species join the resident birds in the spring and fall. Ibex and hyrax are two mammal species that are often seen.

The combination of an unusually warm day and Shabbat brought out the crowds. It was literally “teaming with humanity”. Many streams fed into the pool under the waterfall and it was amazing that the temperatures varied from warm to “take your breath away” cold. I know that someone has a picture, but unfortunately, it is not on my memory card. It was a quick dip; we still had places to go.

It's called the Dead Sea because nothing lives in it. It is some of the saltiest water anywhere in the world, almost six times as salty as the ocean! There are no fish, moving creatures, no seaweed, or any living plants of any kind in the Dead Sea. Actually, the only thing you'll see on the shores of the Sea is the covering of a hard white crust, which are crystals of salt. The crust covers everything: it has razor sharp edges and easily slice your skin.

Don’t be confused, as this is not ordinary table salt. The salts found in the Dead Sea are mineral salts, just like you find in the oceans of the world, only in extreme concentrations. Because of these concentrations, the body is more buoyant in the Dead Sea; buoyant enough to bob like a cork. It makes swimming difficult, so people tend to float and enjoy the experience! Gail found her zen moment.

The Dead Sea experience is usually followed by the black mud application. It’s dirty and fun and always worth a few laughs. We dragged Lynda into the Hear no evil, See no evil, and Speak no evil threesome!

Needless to say, showers followed and we were heading north again.

We made a pit stop at a junction along the way and decided it was the perfect opportunity to share our feelings about the Cousins’ Tour with Julian. It was a kumbaya moment!

And of course one picture of the sisters in our "team" t-shirts.

As the sun set this day our heroines/heroes were speeding back to Tel Aviv for a bit of R & R at the Hotel Adiv after a fabulous 8-day tour of the motherland.

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Tour – Jerusalem

2009-03-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

Our early morning departure for Yad Vashem, the Holocaust History Museum, allowed us some quiet time on the grounds before the crowds arrived. We walked on a path to the entrance that is lined with carob trees, symbolic of supporting life.
Many of the sculptures that grace the grounds integrate the number six,

representing the six million Jews who perished at the hands of the Nazis, into their designs.

The Garden of the Righteous pays tribute to the courageous non-Jews; Oscar Shindler is one, who risked their lives to save Jews from certain death.

These rescuers are awarded the title of Righteous Among the Nations and given a certificate and a medal with the Talmudic inscription “Whoever saves a single soul, it is as if he had saved the entire world.” Trees have been planted on the walkway, marked by a plaque bearing the name and nationality of the Righteous Person. 22,000 helpers have been remembered and honored with planted trees and plaques.

Particularly moving is the Children's Memorial. In a completely dark underground room are glass walls reflecting the flames of five memorial candles, a customary Jewish tradition to remember the dead, and creating the effect of countless flames, each symbolizing the soul of a child. In the background can be heard a woman's voice giving the names of the children, their age and their place of birth. This memorial is a tribute to the approximately one and a half million Jewish children who perished during the Holocaust.

This relatively new museum presents the story of the Shoah from a unique Jewish perspective, emphasizing the experiences of the individual victims through original artifacts, survivor testimonies and personal possessions. Yad Vashem has been entrusted with documenting the history of the Jewish people during the Holocaust period, preserving the memory and the story of each of the six million victims, and imparting the legacy of the Holocaust for generations to come through exhibits and educational programs at this multi-faceted complex.

In the spacious windowless interior, the events of the pogroms and death camps are told in a myriad of ways; recollections of the survivors bring tears to your eyes. One of the last rooms, a healing room for me, tells the story of the marriages of some of the survivors – 7 couples. The nurses provided the brides with gauze for their veils. Of the seven couples that married, each woman gave birth to a baby nine months later.

Upon exiting the museum, the bright daylight and panoramic view of Jerusalem are a stark contrast to the darkness of the interior. The air smells sweet, but the grim events resonate. I find it ironic that it is one spot where capturing peoples faces with the amazing vista of Jerusalem as a backdrop is difficult to accomplish. For me the experience is indelibly etched.

Situated on Ha HaZikkaron, the Hill of Remembrance, Yad Vashem is just west of Mt Herzl. Mt Herzl is a hilltop and national cemetery dedicated to the founder of political Zionism, Theodor Herzl, whose tomb is at the summit of the mountain. As we sat in front Herzl’s marker, our moment of silence was broken by the voices of a school group singing HaTikvah. We joined in.

Mt. Herzl is the burial place of Israel's former prime ministers Golda Meir and Levi Eshkol. Since his tragic murder in 1995, Yitzhak Rabin's grave has also become a magnet for tourists.

He is buried beside his wife, Leah. Israeli presidents and other prominent Jewish and Zionist leaders are also buried on Mt. Herzl.

Since 1951, the northern slope of Mt. Herzl has served as Israel's principal military cemetery, comparable to Arlington National Cemetery. Soldiers, living in the Jerusalem area, who have fallen in the line of duty, are buried there. Mt. Herzl is the venue for many commemorative events and national celebrations.

For those who have never been to a Jewish cemetery, flowers are not placed at the graves; instead, it is traditional for visitors to place small stones on the tombstones. This holds true throughout most of the cemetery. Noticeably different is a section of Mt Herzl when fallen soldiers of the second Lebanon War are interred. These headstones are covered with mementos and remembrances. There are also plastic stools nearby; it is a frequent sight to see family and friends sitting together around the graves sharing stories and memories.

We headed to the Israel museum to see the model of Jerusalem at the period of the Second Temple. Having been here just a few weeks earlier, I listened to Julian’s historical review, and when the kids needed a bit of space,

I headed to the Children’s Museum and Sculpture Garden with Michelle, Jacob and Sarah. I sent Gail to see the Dead Sea Scrolls, knowing we would be passing the cave near where they were found the following day. Boundless energy best describes the young ones! How opportune for a sand box and jungle gym of sorts.

Last stop of the day was a tour of Kibbutz Tzorah, Julian’s home. This is a modern day kibbutz with most of the members working outside the kibbutz. As a community, they have been creative in re-inventing most of the available space to generate income and add financial stability. A winery has met its 10-year goal in under that time frame and produces a success boutique wine;

a Guest House allows tourists to experience life on the kibbutz firsthand; the early education program draws children from nearby communities; and like many kibbutzim, dairy cows are thriving.

Julian’s wife is a mosaic artist and assisted a young group in decorating a bomb shelter as one of their mitzvah projects. We said shabbat shalom to Julian and returned to Jerusalem.

Shabbat was approaching and we discussed many options for observance. The cousins would gather for Shabbat dinner at the Prima Kings Hotel. As the sun set on my last Friday in Israel, I heard the call to go to synagogue. Gail, Buddy and I went to Kabbalah Shabbat at Kol Haneshama, a reform synagogue in the German Colony. It was a lovely, melodious service and my spirit was renewed.

Dinner at the hotel was an experience. The dining room was full to capacity with young, old, ultra-orthodox and the not so observant. There were women in magnificent hats and men, rather slovenly dressed. It was an experience! The buffet was an endless feast of soups, salads, breads and entrees; and, of course, desserts! It was downhill to Beit Shmuel; and we rolled home that night.

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Tour – Getting Dirty

2009-03-20T10:57:00.000-07:00

Today we were going to get dirty. Our destination was an archeological site at Bet Guvrin National Park.

We would be participating in a “Dig for a Day”. Archaeological Seminars is digging at Tel Maresha, the ancestral home of King Herod.

We met with our guide, Ian and headed down into a cave that is currently being excavated.

We were given tools (hand picks were in demand), and went to work searching for artifact.

So we dug, and we sifted and found some treasures (mostly pottery shards). Ian found the partially intact jaw and teeth of an animal.

We carried the earth filled buckets out of the cave and finished fine sifting above ground.

I found a perfectly intact shell in the screen when we were sifting.

We had an opportunity to go “spelunking” – walking like a crab in combination with slithering through small openings - in a cave that hasn’t been excavated. The underground labyrinths were lighted with candles so that we could the rooms. We saw the remains of cubbyholes where doves nested, olive oil production, weaving installations, and water cisterns and baths. There is a wealth of discoveries to be found and we were happy with our small contribution to the cause.

Next stop was Abu Gosh, an Israeli Arab town located about 5 miles west of Jerusalem. We were going for lunch; the house specialty is lamb, and it became a feast for the carnivore cousins. It was goood! The little salad plates were seemingly endless. A picture is worth a thousand words.

The Kotel was the next stop – I had spent a fair amount of time at the wall in the past few weeks: sometimes sleeping and sometimes awake. I had a special prayer to leave at the wall for my friend Doris Cochran-Fikes, who would be having major surgery in the middle of April. Gail had to reach high to find a crevice for family pictures of Marj and Hank and our grandparents.

We spent some time at the southern wall and the serenity of it enveloped me. Julian particularly likes this vantage point for a few reasons.

One is that the steps to the top are not even and when you climb them, you are cognizant of your footing. You can’t take it fir granted. The second is the view of an Arab neighborhood, which is a constant reminder that Jerusalem is very much a shared city.

Gail and I went off on our own in the afternoon exploring other parts of the city. I wanted to get back to Machane Yehuda to make my spice purchases before leaving the country. Since Gail had never been, I was her personal tour guide and personal shopper. It was Thursday and the market was crowded in anticipation of Shabbat.

We sampled halvah, ate a date (Gail swears it was her very first), bought some spices and generally checked out everything and anything the market had to offer. These “granny pants” caught my eye.

My niece Jessie and I have a joke about them – these were blue ribbon winners! We took our time going back to the hotel experiencing retail therapy on Ben Yehuda and Jaffa streets along the way. Zionism is alive and well in the Packer family. I made Gail try on this Celtics kippah.

Although she cloaks herself in green when the Celtics play, she deferred on this purchase!

Still full from the feast at lunch, we did site inspections of potential places where we could get a “bite to eat” if needed and headed back to Beit Shmuel. We hung out at the guest house with Louise, Lynda and Buddy. We drank wine and had a "show and tell" with our purchases. Buddy took to modeling the pashminas in some new Packer ritual!

And, of course, the adventure continues...

The Packer Cousins Tour – Day Trip to the Negev

2009-03-20T05:09:00.000-07:00

Correction: In previous blogs, I used the term dunam/acre interchangeably and have since learned that they are not equal. Dating back to the Ottoman Empire, the dunam was defined as "forty standard paces in length and breadth", but varied considerably from place to place. Current conversion according to Wikipedia is 10 acres exactly.

We were off to an early start with our bags packed and checked out of our very fancy hotel. The breakfast buffet at the Dan was so abundant that it was almost difficult to navigate.

We were heading to the Negev for a hike that Julian called the Ma’alei Palmach Hike. We drove into major congestion near Beer Sheva and were uncertain of the cause. Julian identified the roadblocks as emergency drills that necessitated re‐routing ourselves; turning off onto smaller roads to avoid most of the traffic. At this point, Gail was shvitzing! (She had promised her family that she would not be traveling near any of the borders or into harm’s way and she was “uncertain” as to what we were really in the middle of. She had already been in very close proximity to the border of Lebanon and Syria). We knew we were in the desert because military installations and training facilities dotted the landscape. When we finally pulled into the trailhead parking lot at the Great Crater Slopes Nature Reserve, it was teaming with students. That would be busloads of students.

We moved quickly to stay ahead of them and managed to enjoy the serenity of our surroundings. Julian lead the way to the crater.

The vistas were breathtaking, and we watched the students go down a rope ladder on a rock face in the distance.

We took time for a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of our surroundings. We heard the sounds of many birds in competition the intermittent roar of F16’s. A white dirigible in the sky provides constant monitoring of the area.

It was obvious that it had also rained in the desert as we saw small blooming flowers and residual water near a rock formation.

We drove west to Yeruham. On the way we continued to see military installations and firing ranges. One site referred to as “The Textile Plant” is actually Israel’s nuclear power plant. Yeruham was one of Israel's first development towns in the Negev, created to settle frontier areas in the early days of the state. For many years, Yeruham was economically depressed and had a corrupt government. The Prime Minister removed the mayor and assigned a retired Army General to straighten out the problems. His success was significant as industry was enticed to settle in the Yeruham, and unemployment decreased. The locals took pride in the town and the image problems improved.

A movie, Orchestra, was filmed there recently and we ate a restaurant that was featured in the flick! It was a great lunch.

Our next stop was Sde Boker. I was excited to visiting the place when Ben Gurion spent his later years. Last year, traveling on public transportation, I had tried in vain to stop and explore the site. A language barrier did not allow me to confirm the bus schedule and I fear being stranded here.

David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister and defense minister, loved the desert and wanted to make it bloom. Kibbutz Sde Boker is the realization of the dream envisioned by the man who loved the Negev and its expanses, and wanted to settle there. A kibbutz, built in 1952 in the northern Negev Mountains, attracted the public’s attention when Ben Gurion moved to Sde Boker to live there with his wife Paula.

His vision has been realized as the area is dotted with communities and thriving farms. The hut where he lived has been preserved and the surrounding area has been developed to house his archives. The Ben Gurion archive, which is actually his private library, contains over 5,000 books about all the things he treasured.

Just south of the kibbutz is the Ben Gurion Heritage Institute, which houses a desert research institute, a field school, sculpture museum and guesthouse. There is a high school where Israeli youth come to study nature. Ibex roam freely.

The location of the Ben Gurion memorial site, where David and Paula Ben Gurion are buried, offers a beautiful view of the Nakhal Tsin rift.

Our last stop of the day was the Tzora Forrest in the Judean foothills. The forest was green and lush and the antithesis to the desert where we had spent the day. The blooming almond trees are the first sign of spring; the buds were visible.

Along the way we saw the beginning of a sculpture garden; it was a photo op for Mr Bill as the sculpture was in a scale that made him look BIG!

When we reach the top of the trail, Julian pointed out that in the vista below were Beit Shemesh and Kibbutz Tzorah, where he lives. It was beautiful.

We left Julian at the kibbutz for the night and we went on to Jerusalem, where we would be staying for the next few days.

And the adventure continues.

The Packer Cousins Tour – Leaving The North

2009-03-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

Before the comments come in, let me acknowledge that the days may be mixed up, but the events are accurate to the best of my recollection!

There were a few stops that fell in the category of “quick stops” and the Church of the Annunciation was one of them. The Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth is a modern Catholic church that was built over the remains of Byzantine and Crusader churches. It was consecrated in 1969, and incorporates the cave in which the Virgin Mary received the news from Gabriel that she would give birth to Jesus. Magnificent mosaics, works of art and ceramic reliefs (banners) contributed by Roman Catholic communities from around the world adorn the vast interior and courtyard.

The inside of the dome is designed to resemble a lily.
The site has been a pilgrimage destination since earliest times and remains an important stop for Holy Land pilgrims today.

Mr Bill had a photo op with a new statue of Mary in the courtyard.

Young Jacob was celebrating his 8th birthday. We each took an assignment and fanned out over Nazareth to pick up appropriate party supplies. Julian, Gail and I found a party store, aptly name Happy Day. Julian was a good sport and tried on Barbie’s tiara!

We celebrated at Nof Ginnosaur that night! The birthday boy blew out all the candles.

Tsfat was an early morning stop to see two synagogues. The Ari Ashkenazi Synagogue was definitely my favorite. The detail on the Ark is magnificent. Built in the sixteenth century, the synagogue is named after Rabbi Isaac Luria, who was a great kabbalist who arrived in Safed in 1570. A Hebrew inscription above the entrance lintel reads: "How awe-inspiring is this place, the synagogue of the Ari of blessed memory.” The synagogue is known for its colorful and ornate Holy Ark.

Sephardic immigrants from Greece who arrived in Safed during the sixteenth century established the synagogue. When Rabbi Isaac Luria arrived he prayed in this synagogue on the eve of the Shabbat. During the service, he was accustomed to leave the synagogue with his disciples and walk to a nearby field to welcome the Sabbath. The Ari’s tradition of welcoming the Sabbath during Kabbalat Shabbat is still echoed in Jewish communities around the world during the singing of Lecha Dodi, when worshippers turn toward the entrance of the synagogue to "greet" the Sabbath.

Tsfat is a mystical place and the clouds had settled so that we were actually above them. Very cool, given our surroundings. We walked on the cobblestone streets admiring the doors; they are a study in design in their own right.

The blue gate with the blue evil eye (which is said to protect the house) piqued my interest.

There were time constraints for the day. Julian allowed us a very limited “shopping” time, which meant going to the Safed (yes, these are many spellings) Candle Company for a supply of Shabbat candles. It was good that some one was looking out for our finances. The money would be left in the country, the question was – where?

Our destination upon our return to Tel Aviv was Nachalat Benyamin. Adjacent to Shuk Ha’Carmel, the street is transformed two days each week. You’d be hard pressed to recognize it as the same place. On Tuesday and Friday, the street comes alive with an Art & Craft Fair that features the works of many artists. We had been rained out on previous days and this would be our last opportunity. It is a favorite shopping place for anyone who has been to Tel Aviv.

Since 1987 the street (which has many textile shops) has been home to the Art & Craft Fair. The artists, who exhibit and sell their creations each have a regular stall, which corresponds to one of the street’s numbers. Artists are accepted by a public committee, which must approve not only the artist, but also the actual items that will be exhibited and sold. The requirements are like those for a juried craft show in the states.

We prayed that it would not be raining and our wishes came true. Retail therapy at its finest! Gail and I spent quite a bit of time with Ahuva Elany’s booth. She designs beautiful copper wall hangings with inspiration from biblical texts.

Her husband, Ami, was showing Gail a translation on the computer. We had a heartwarming conversation with him; I told him of my Sar-El volunteer work on the army base and he shared with us that talking with people at the booth has changed some of his thinking about the country, and he has fallen in love with Israel again. Priceless….

Our overnight accommodations were four stars this time.

We checked into the waterfront Dan Panorama and we each had a room with a view – AND a balcony!

We didn’t leave enough time to enjoy all that this hotel had to offer; we’d be checking out early the next morning as we headed south to the Negev to go hiking.

And the adventure continues.

The Packer Cousins Tour – The North.2

2009-03-19T09:44:00.000-07:00

Our luck was prevailing, and the rain was holding off at the critical moments. Nightline rain and daytime sunshine seemed to satisfy Israel’s need to replenish the watershed and our desire to see the country in the best light!

We headed to the northwestern corner of the country, adjacent to the Lebanon border, this morning to see the grottoes of Rosh Hanikra.

We stood in front of the gate at the Lebanon border crossing at the entrance to a military installation that includes: the Israeli Army and Navy, UN forces and the Lebanese Army. It was near this site that ill-fated transfer of detainees from the second Lebanon War in 2006 occurred: the bodies of Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were returned in coffins.

The grottoes (sea caves) are steeped in history. These grottoes date to 323 B.C.E. and Alexander the Great. The cliff is at the foot of a chalk mountain range, which dips into the sea, creating a steep, white pillar, 70 meters high. It is often described as a white elephant’s trunk.

In the past, the only access to the grottoes was from the sea and experienced divers were the only ones capable of visiting. This rare beauty became accessible to the general public in 1968; when, a tunnel was excavated to the natural grottoes, slightly above the sea surface Today a cable car takes visitors down to see the grottoes. The ride takes about a minute in each direction and provides a panoramic view of the cliff and sea.

Documents and drawings of pilgrims show stairways carved into the rock, facilitating the passage of caravans. The first road accessible to motor vehicles was cut by the British Army during World War One. At the time of the British Mandate in Palestine, a road was laid for commercial and private use. It has since been closed off, but there are tunnels to the north and south carved out that could connect Damascus and Cairo.

Throughout human history, Rosh Hanikra served as point of passage for trading caravans and armies between Lebanon, Syria - the northern cultures - and Israel, Egypt, Africa - the southern cultures. Of current interest is the accord that existed between Israel, Egypt and Jordan, allowing free travel between the countries, is no longer in existence. The reneging of the pact no longer allows free travel to Israel.

The labyrinth of tunnels in the cave was formed by sea action of waves lapping on the soft chalk rock. The total length of Rosh Hanikra grottoes is some 200 meters. They branch off in various directions with some interconnecting segments. The season of the year and time of day greatly alter the grottoes’ appearance.

The caves are wet and it was slick walking; a handrail provided a bit of security. The caution of the moment was “watch the waves”. Soon after snapping this picture of Gail, the next wave soaked them all.

Oops! If the water isn’t coming from the sky, it’s coming from the sea. The strange sounds the waves make as they rush in and out of the caves make it easy to believe the old legend that a pair of star-crossed lovers used to meet here, and the voice of the would-be bride can still be heard.

Just south of Rosh Hanikra, the city of Acre/Akko is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, dating back to the time of the Pharaoh Thutmose III (1504-1450 BCE). A part of the kingdom of Israel, Acre was incorporated into the empire of Alexander the Great after his conquest in 332 B.C.E. Through subsequent takeovers, and various names, confusion over what to call the city was compounded by the Crusaders' conquest in 1104, after which it became known as St. Jean d'Acre, or Acre for short.

Akko is also a city rich in history, with a focus on the Crusaders. (My knowledge of Crusader history is sorely lacking.) The Crusaders were literally wiped out by the Mamluks in the late 1200’s. With this major event, Acre ceased to be a major city for almost 500 years. When a Bedouin sheikh carved a small fiefdom out of the Ottoman Empire in the mid-18th century, he made Acre his capital and built a large fortress.
The fortress was later fortified by the Turkish governor (1775-1804); the mosque al-Jazzer built is one of the most beautiful in Israel and the most distinctive building in the old city.

Acre fell under Ottoman control until the Turks were defeated in 1918 by the British. The city then became part of the British Mandate for Palestine. The British used the ancient fortress, which had never been breached, as a high-security prison to hold (and execute) members of the various Jewish underground groups. On May 4, 1947, members of the Irgun staged a dramatic rescue (dramatized in the film Exodus). Though few Jews escaped, the audacity of the raid was a serious blow to British prestige and a tremendous boost for the morale of the Jews. Today, the fort is the site of the Underground Prisoners Memorial Museum, which depicts the history of Acre and the prison.

On May 17, 1948, shortly after the Arab invasion, Israeli troops took control of Acre and most of the Arab inhabitants fled. It was subsequently incorporated into Israel after the War of Independence.

The clock tower was built in 1906 in honor of the Turkish sultan Abdul Hamid. (Remember the clock tower in Jaffa?)

One of the more spectacular rooms in the subterranean Crusader city is the Knights' Halls, which were used as a fortress more than 700 years ago. Today, the main hall is used for concerts. The lowest level is the Crypt, a great hall that may have been used for great ceremonies by the Crusaders is a focal point for the annual Akko Performance Art Festival.

Today, the population of Akko is approximately 40,000 and has one of the higher proportions of non-Jews of any of Israel's cities, with roughly 25 percent Christians, Muslims, Druze and Baha'is. The city is a magnet for tourists and the home of the country's steel industry.

Lunch near the Akko market was fabulous hummus with whole chickpeas at the only restaurant owned by women in a predominantly Arab market. Gail and I were checking out what other people were eating as we found our seats.

We struck up conversation with a couple, only to find out that Jonathan lives in Allentown, PA. He asked me if I noticed his car with the PA license plate outside. Of course, this was a Kodak moment! Jonathan gave me a hot tip for a restaurant in Philadelphia. This lunch: Israeli salad and hummus still resonates in my taste buds!

Our next stop was the Kinneret Cemetery. This is the site of the graves of the founders of Moshava Kinneret and Kibbutz Kinneret - the early 20th-century leaders of socialist Zionism. Among the many well-known figures buried here are the poet Rachel, songwriter Naomi Shemer, Zionist labor leader Berl Katznelson and many others it is a "sacred" place to most Israelis, on the hills overlooking Lake Kinneret. The Kinneret is an atypical Jewish cemetery as the pioneers wanted to re‐define “Jewish”.

Rachel (1890 - 1931, b. Vyatka, Russia) published all her poetry under her first name only. She arrived in Eretz Israel in 1909, and lived in an agricultural school for girls on the shores of the Sea of Galilee until 1913. While studying in France, the outbreak World War I necessitated a return to Russia, where she contracted tuberculosis. In 1919, she returned to live on Kibbutz Degania. Unable to work with children because of her illness, she left the kibbutz and settled in a lonely one-room apartment in Tel Aviv, where she lived the final five years of her life. She died at the age of forty, and was buried near the Sea of Galilee. She published most of her poetry during her last six years. Her life has taken on mythic proportions for Israel’s reading public and a volume of her collected verse remains one of the country’s greatest bestsellers. Some of her best-known verse expresses love for Eretz Israel and nostalgia for the Sea of Galilee.

Naomi Shemer (1930 - 2004) was one of Israel's most important and prolific songwriters, considered by some "the First Lady of Israeli Song". Shemer wrote both words and lyrics to her own songs, composed music to words by others (such as the poet Rahel), and set Hebrew words to internationally known tunes (such as "Hey Jude" by the Beatles); she has probably made more lasting contributions to Israeli song than any other single songwriter. Due to her virtuosic use of language, Shemer has also been called a poet, though her published writing was always set to music. Naomi Shemer was born and raised in Kinneret, a kibbutz on the shore of Sea of Galilee (where Rahel the poet lived), of which her parents were founders.

Julian’s stories on the lives of other lesser-known pioneers scream to be put into print. He declined the request to become the author. I wasn’t taking notes at the time and regret that I did not have a tape recorder.

The grave of this baby (Lotan Huff) is the unfortunate tale of the young pioneers. The baby died because his young mother did not know what to feed him after she stopped breastfeeding. Because there were no elders to lend advice, the pioneers struggled to manage on their own. This baby was a relative of the wealthy Rothschild family.

This marker belongs to a young man named Borkahv, who feeling that he had failed his parents, made aliyah as a pioneer in Israel. When he experienced difficult times in his new homeland, he took his own life He could not bear to have failed a second time. The marker of this 17 year old indicates that “he lost his ability to make a decision”, which is the terminology that allows him to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.

Our minds were overflowing with knowledge and history; the next stop would be a place for the intrepid, weary travelers.

Hammat Gader is a Roman/Byzantine thermal complex, and a modern therapeutic and resort center on the north bank of the Yarmuk River, between the Golan Heights and Gilad mountains. Its geological structure and volcanic history produced the hot and mineral springs that make the site so special. In the area there are 5 springs, one cold mineral spring and 4 hot springs, ranging from 125 degrees and down to 85 degrees (F).

Although the area is also steeped in history, this was an evening plunge into some very smelly sulfur springs to soothe the body. We skipped the history lesson! We may have stayed too long soaking in the warmth of the water; Julian had to call the Guest House and let them know we were running late for dinner!

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Tour: The North.1

2009-03-18T19:06:00.000-07:00

The following morning brought some blue sky. It was a hallelujah moment. We knew that the rain was necessary, but underneath, we were all thinking “not on my parade”! We had an early start to meet the guide for a Jeep Tour of the Golan.

The Golan Heights is of great strategic importance in the region. The area was under Syrian control from 1944 until Israel captured the region in 1967 during the Six-Day War. Since then, the area has remained under Israeli control. Israel successfully defended the territory in the 1973 Yom Kippur War, though a portion was later returned to Syria. In 1981, the area was annexed by Israel, a move not recognized and condemned internationally and called "inadmissible" by the UN Security Council.

With heights ranging in elevation from 9,230 feet on Mount Hermon in the north, to about sea level on the Yarmuk River in the south, the Golan Heights is strategically important as it provides significantly to the water resources of the region. This is true particularly for higher elevations, which are snow-covered, much of the year in the cold months and help to sustain base flow for rivers and springs during the dry season. The heights receive significantly more precipitation than the surrounding, lower-elevation areas. The occupied sector of the Golan Heights provides/controls a substantial portion of the water in the Jordan River watershed, which in turn provides a portion of Israel's water supply.

The first stop on our tour was at the water’s edge of the Sea of Galilee, also know as the kinneret.

The receding shore was very evident from years of inadequate rains. The Packers were bringing much luck to the area as major rains (with thunder and lighting) coincided with our arrival. If I remember correctly, 40% of the annual rainfall had fallen in the few days that we were in the area.

We climbed deep into the hills crossing rivers, driving through abandoned Syrian army posts, and had great vistas of the Hula valley. The side flaps on the jeep, which protected us from flying mud and water did not allow for many pictures. The water was running amazing high; in riverbeds that were almost dry a week before.

Unfortunately, we reached the river we could not cross and had to change direction.

The kids were checking the flow of the river by tossing twigs and watching them speed away. This was a great opportunity for pictures. Hard to complain that the sun was shining and it felt great.

Link to mt bental: http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Society_&_Culture/geo/bental.html

As we boarded the bus and headed north, we were driving into a fog bank. Visibility dropped to just a few feet. By the time reached Mt Bental, we were in a wet snowstorm.

On a good day, the Mount Bental overlook, at 1,170 meters above sea level, must be beautiful, providing endless views of Mount Hermon and the Golan. On this day we had to imagine!
This is what we were told: Kibbutz Merom Golan, the first Kibbutz established in this region after the 1967 war manages the area. From the overlook one might see Mount Hermon (3,000 meters above sea level), several Druze villages as well as a network of old bunkers and trenches (on a clear day of course) Just to the east of Mount Bental is Syria, with Damascus lying just 60 km away. This mileage post best represents that this particular point is closer to Jordan and Syria than to Jerusalem.

Mount Bental is a key strategic point for Israel due to its advantageous observation point, and was the site of one of the largest tank battles in history during the Yom Kippur War of 1973. According to a history book, Israel knew it count not risk losing this mountain, nor any of the Golan Heights. The Syrians attacked the Golan with 1,500 tanks and 1,000 artillery pieces. Israel countered with only 160 tanks and 60 artillery pieces. The long stretch of valley in between Mount Bental and Mount Hermon became known as the Valley of Tears. The 100 Israeli tanks were reduced to seven under extreme enemy fire. However, the Israelis managed to take down 600 Syrian tanks in the process. The Syrians eventually retreated, but not without inflicting heavy casualties on Israel.

As we drove down the mountain the skies cleared once again.

A fast food lunch stop was the first of many falafels in which this family would indulge! Yes, I ate at one too many fast food establishments while traveling with the cousins.

The Golan Heights Winery was a good tour and a better tasting!

The winery was founded in 1983 and is located in the small town of Katzrin, high up on the Golan Heights. The winery tour was heavy into AV, as most of the Israel's tourist attractions are.

Today, the Golan Heights Winery is a company owned by 4 kibbutzim and 4 moshavs. They manage the vineyards, which rise from near the Sea of Galilee to the foot of the snow-capped Mount Hermon. This constant supervision ensures that the maximum potential of quality is realized in each of the vineyards that are scattered throughout the area. The chief winemaker is a graduate of the University of California at Davis. The winemakers ensure that the special benefits of the grapes from the Golan Heights are transformed into one of the many wines they produce under 3 labels: Yarden, Gamla and Golan.

The Golan Heights Winery has not only raised the standards of Israeli wines, but has also allowed the country to successfully compete on the world stage. The state of the art technology in combination with traditional vinification techniques is the equation for producing award-winning wines, firmly placing Israel on the international wine map.

The next story begins in 1919, when 2 Jews from Tel Hai were killed. After these two were killed, a man named Joseph Trumpledor decided to come up here and help protect these villages.

Joseph Trumpledor was an assimilated Russian Jew, and a dentist. Following in his father’s footsteps, he joined the Russian Army in 1902 and went on to become the most decorated (for bravery) Jewish soldier in the Russian Army. After being captured during combat, he became the first Jew in the Russian army to receive an officer's commission. Like his father, he lost his arm in combat.

During his time in the Japanese prison camp, he heard a lot of anti-Semitism and decided that a Jew should live in Eretz Yisrael. Because of his disability, he was no longer able to practice as a dentist, so he began to study law. He also became very involved in a Zionist group, and in 1911, they immigrated to Israel and joined a farm on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.

When World War I broke out in 1914, and he traveled to Egypt where he collaborated in the development of a Jewish Legion to fight with the British against common enemies. In 1915, the Zion Mule Corps was formed. It was the first all-Jewish military unit organized in close to two thousand years, and became the ideological beginning of the Israel Defense Forces.

The Corps saw action in the Battle of Gallipoli and remained in Gallipoli through the entire campaign. They were disbanded shortly after being transferred to Britain. In 1918, at the end of the war, Trumpledor was offered a commission in the British army, but he refused it, and began working to bring Russian Jews to Israel. He lived on Kibbutz Deganya on the Kinneret until the first two Jews were killed at Tel Hai…

Trumpledor commanded the defense in this area for HaShomer. The Arabs and the French were still fighting, and on March 1, 1920, hundreds of Arabs showed up at the gates of Tel Hai, in search of French soldiers that might be in hiding. (The Jews generally tried to maintain neutrality in the chaos, occasionally sheltering both Arabs and French.) On this day there were no French soldiers, and the Jews allowed a search. One of the farmers fired a shot into the air, a signal for reinforcements from nearby Kfar Giladi, which brought ten men led by Trumpeldor. Fighting broke out, and it became a losing battle. The Jews of Tel Hai carried their wounded up the hill to Kfar Giladi. Trumpledor was seriously injured in the fighting, and he died along with five other Jews. The name of the city just south of here, Kiryat Shemona is for the eight people who died at Tel Hai.

Trumpledor’s last words were reported to be "Never mind, it is good to die for our country" (Ein davar, tov lamut be'ad artzeinu). You will see this printed on the side of the monument.

Trumpeldor is regarded as a hero by both right wing and left wing Zionists. After his death, he became a symbol of Jewish self-defense, and his memorial day on the 11th day of Adar is officially noted in Israel every year. A street is named for him in Tel Aviv.

Trumpeldor and the other fighters where initially buried inside the kibbutz. They were interred there until 1924 when the cemetery was moved to its present site. By 1927, the cemetery was neglected and a man named Lord Meichert hired an artist to build a monument. Since this was the first monument that was erected, there was much discussion about what it should look like. A statue of Trumpledor was considered; the consensus was for something more symbolic. The lion prevailed, as it is common in Jewish art. The eight fighters who died at Tel Hai are buried here in a kever achim (mass grave).

Across the valley you can see the Golan Heights; below you is the Hula valley. Take a look around the cemetery; many of the members of Ha Shomer are buried here.

Behind this cemetery, Near the gate of Kibbutz Kfar Giladi is another poignant memorial. On August 6, 2006, during the 2006 Israel-Lebanon conflict, twelve reserve IDF soldiers were killed after being hit by a katyusha rocket launched by Hezbollah from Southern Lebanon. The group of artillery gunners was gathering on the kibbutz in preparation for action in the conflict.

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Tour – Heading North

2009-03-18T04:59:00.000-07:00

After months of planning, the Packer Cousins were together in the “motherland” for a family tour.

This picture, in front of the Hotel Adiv, has most of the family included. From left to right: sister, Gail; me; friend of cousin Joan, Marsha; daughter of cousin Joan, Michelle; cousin Joan (our beloved matriarch), cousin Louise (sister of Joan); Roberta, cousin of Joan, Louise and Buddy on the their mother’s side; Lynda Mitchell, friend of Joan, (in the back) cousin Buddy; (in the front) Sarah (daughter of Michelle and granddaughter of Joan). Missing are Buddy’s wife Lynda; Roberta’s husband Bob; and Sarah’s brother, Jacob.

In summary, these are my first cousins on my father’s side. My father, Henry and Joan, Louise and Buddy’s father, Max were brothers. Phew! That might be too much information, but I thought the little family tree was important. You might also be interested to know that Joan is the oldest of the generation and I am the youngest. There are 10 years between us. When we were younger I used to get her monogrammed “hand me downs” as there was no one else who was interested in JP embroidered clothing!

With that said, the family was introduced to Julian Resnick, our intrepid tour guide for the next 8 days. We loaded our luggage, boarded the little bus and headed north to the Kinneret, also known as the Sea of Galilee. Our destination was Nof Ginnosar, a kibbutz with a large guesthouse where we would be staying for the next three nights.
Kibbutz Ginnosar, founded in 1937 by a group of young socialists, was originally an agricultural community. Now its primary source of income is from tourism. During a severe drought in 1986 the level of lake dropped to reveal the frame of a fishing boat that has since been carbon dated to 100BCE to 70CE and is now known as the Sea of Galilee Boat.

It was foggy and rainy which make it difficult to see through the steamy windows on our little bus. Julian talked to us about Israel. Over the past 15 years, there has been a steady influx of immigrants who now account for 20% of the population. This number is comparable to the population of France. Israel is clearly as much of a melting pot as the US, on a smaller scale. The best-known immigrant is Madonna, who is known as Esther in the country.

There is a new wave of immigrants being absorbed into Israel on a regular basis. Their home countries have traumatized the immigrants; the burden for assimilation falls to Israel as the host country. Ethiopians, for example, have the challenge of color and culture, a former powerful patriarchal system and low literacy. The women, in general, are better able to acculturate. Over 25% of violence against women is present in the Ethiopian families. This is the result of changing roles.

The discussion of immigrants included the evidence of anti-semitism. Julian told us that Israel’s efforts to support the Tsunami relief effort were initially rebuffed and then accepted only when the Jewish stars were removed from the cargo containers. A tidbit that stuck with me is that Israel has too much history and not enough geography.

We arrived in the shroud of darkness, settled in and hoped that the much-needed rain would take a break when the sun rises in the morning.

And the adventure continues…

The Packer Cousins Israel Tour - The Prologue

2009-03-17T09:43:00.000-07:00

It’s a big day today, as the family arrives to begin a tour of the country. More about the cast of characters and plans later.

I was up early to accompany Jack and Sylvia to the bakery that makes this unbelievable treat!

Kurtosh – a hollow bread that is baked with cinnamon, nuts, halvah, and chocolate, OR, with any combination. The dough is rolled out, cut into strips, wrapped around a thick skewer, and brushed with something that makes the spices/nuts stick. It is then baked in a rotisserie-like oven. Yummmmmm is all that I can say. A kurtosh store in Philadelphia would be fabulous, particularly when I need to re-invent myself.

My day was empty until I had a date to meet my sister and a friend at the airport later in the afternoon. I would facilitate the airport transfer with them since we would be traveling on public transportation. Not having any luggage to take with me to the airport, I have time to check out the train station on the way.

Doris had first pointed these out to me and they are fascinating! These vending machines sell a meal in a box. When you scan the box, the microwave knows how much time is required to heat it. Pretty cool, huh? Full service rail stations in Tel Aviv without human contact!

The rendezvous was seamless and I was so excited that Gail and I were together in this country that I loved so much. We went elbow to elbow with the soldiers to board the train and made an easy transfer to the city bus. Next stop: Hotel Adiv.

Being the tour guide for the day, I barely let Gail get settled before we headed down the street to the Mediterranean. Rain was in the forecast, and I didn’t want her first “toes in the water” to be a washout.

It was a glorious moment!

My buddies from Sde Teiman also returned to the Adiv after their third week on the base. It was a real love festival in the lobby of the hotel as we drank wine to celebrate the official end of our Tour of Duty. It was even better that I was able to share my new friends with my sister.

We joined Steve Schwartz for dinner, this time only walking as far as Jaffa. We ate outdoors at the Aladdin Restaurant, high on cliff overlooking the sea, with a backdrop of the Tel Aviv skyline. Very cool! (Look carefully for the lights of the city)

As promised we woke to rain and lingered over breakfast. The cousins had arrived! It was a great mix of family and friends for me.

The Erezt Israel Museum had a highly recommended photography exhibit of the Haredim ultra-orthodox sect and we decided to see it.

Menachem Kahana began photographing the ultra-orthodox community in 1995. A surprising sight of ultra-orthodox people bathing in a spring piqued his curiosity and he began wondering about the concealed life of ultra-Orthodox Jews outside the routine circumstances in which we frequently see them. He created a close and trustful relationship with the Haredim community. This was no easy feat. The ultra-orthodox community regularly faces ridicule, derision and disrespect from secular Jews. Kahana managed to investigate their world in depth. The photographs are intriguing, and at times disturbing. It was a mutually beneficial relationship as its members began trusting him and eventually used his photographs for their own purposes.

The exhibit has been very controversial, with many detractors incensed that the museum would allow such an exhibit. Some have described it as “appalling and un-Jewish”. There is nothing like the camera for opening locked doors.

It was still raining when we left the museum and cousin Lynda went out to flag a cab; Gail was under cover outside, and I was inside watching the whole thing!

We went to the synagogue on Bograshav for Friday night services. It was yahrzeit for my Uncle Mandy (my father’s brother). The rabbi was pleased to see nine of us walk in. We provided him with a minyan(the quorum necessary to recite certain prayers, consisting of ten Jewish adults)and services started. It could not have been raining any harder when we left the synagogue: cats and dogs is the description that comes to mind. We had to split up to get cabs and eventually reconnected at a restaurant: Barbunyia. Dinner was great and of course another Kodak moment. The family adopted Sar-El Scott this night.

The next day was dry and windy. Did I say really windy? I had a flash back to the sand storm in the Negev, and had little interested in walking by the beach.

We abandoned those plans and headed toward Rothschild Blvd. On the way, while I was assisting a young man with the local ATM, the rest of the crew was waiting on the corner. It was an amazing convergence on that corner as a motorcycle rider pulls up, takes off his helmet and gives my cousin buddy a big hug.

It was Etei, an Israeli who was a friend of his daughter, Joanna. I had met Etei a few summers ago when he and Joanna were touring around Newport on a cold and rainy day and sought shelter at the Pooc for a cup of hot coffee!

We stopped at this sculpture on Dizengoff and noticed that the “private parts” were rubbed very smooth and shiny!

We needed to be back at the Adiv for a rendezvous with the other cousins and our guide. The Packer Cousins Israeli Tour would officially begin.

The adventure continues…

Friends and Family

2009-03-16T16:00:00.000-07:00

After an overnight at Hotel Adiv, I was heading north to Ramat Hasharon, just north of Tel Aviv. I would be spending the weekend with Cara, Asaf, Mia and Ya’ir Kobrovsky.

Cara is the daughter of my assistant principal and friend, Jean Nixon. Travel was much easier this year as I knew how to negotiate the city on public transportation. #10 bus to Arlozoroff Bus Station, transfer to the Train Station @ Savidor Mercaz and take the train to Herzliyya. Bingo – I got it!

Rainy weather had the city moving at a snail’s pace, but the trains are an “on time” mode of transportation. Seeing Cara at the train station almost felt like I hadn’t been gone for a year. I had spent a fair amount of time with them last year when I was traveling in Israel.

I was warmly welcomed by 5 year old Mia, younger brother Ya’ir and Asaf. Mia was excited about my visit and shared with her teacher that "Joanne was coming to visit"! Ya’ir had just celebrated his 3rd birthday and had his first haircut. He was all little boy!
It was great to hang out at the house with the kids; I was ready for some R & R.

Asaf, always the barrister, still makes a great cappuccino! Shabbat dinner would be at home as Asaf’s parents were unexpectedly going away for the weekend. The good new for us was that dinner had already been cooked and we picked it up at the house. Just like going to Whole Foods for take-out, but tastier!

It was a laid back weekend of doing wash (thank you, thank you, Cara), eating and playing with the kids.Ya'ir was entertaining himself and us with pencils in his toes.

My third floor “suite” has been converted into storage space after there was a major flood in the basement/Asaf’s office. I was staying in the guest room, next door to the kids. I loved it. Being an early morning person, I felt little eyes peering into the room, and saw little fingers around the door. Mia climbed into bed with me for early morning reading ; moments later Ya’ir joined us. Unfortunately, no was else was up to catch the Kodak moment. It was priceless! Mia was working very diligently on her English and much to my surprise, Ya’ir was trying to speak English with me as well; when necessary, Mia translated!

The rain (with thunder and lightning) was much needed in the country. I had no complaints with just hanging out. Asaf’s parents returned from the Galilee (too much rain for his mother) by mid-day on Saturday. We returned the leftovers when we gathered for a family lunch. We spent the day watching movies. The Kobrovsky home is decorated with much of Asaf’s mother’s fused glass creations. I loved the monkeys in the bathroom and let Mr Bill meet some new friends.

Mia also took a liking to Mr Bill!

With clean clothes in my bag, great food in my stomach, and the kids delivered to school on Sunday morning,

I was heading south to the Negev for a visit on the kibbutz. Even with Cara’s help I still didn’t get the direct train to Beer Sheva and transferred again in Tel Aviv. The Central Bus Station in Beer Sheva is fairly easy to navigate. When I got to the ticket window, I had a flash from the past. There was a surly, non-English speaking agent at the window. He was not helpful this year and I remembered his similar demeanor form last year. With the translation assistance of a woman behind me, I purchased a round trip ticket to Ketura. When he handed me the ticket, he slammed his window closed. Obviously, I was slowing him up to get somewhere.

I made arrangements to meet Cailin Burke at coffee shop near gate 15 in the bus station. We chatted for the next hour, catching up on law school for her, med school graduation for Ezra, unknown residency placement, Israel travel for her mom and brother, and wedding bells in the future. She was wearing a beautiful new engagement ring! It was worth the stop.

I had hoped to miss the crush of soldiers traveling to/from the military bases on Sunday, but the bus was filled to overflowing in the afternoon. As the sun was setting in the west, the bus pulled over to the side of the road deep in the Negev, and I got off at Kibbutz Ketura. My cousin Seth was there to greet me.

A lot was happening on the kibbutz and Seth was deep into digging trenches and laying sewer lines for a new neighborhood.

That translates into learning to dig trenches and helping install manholes. There was no time for hikes or other adventures. I rolled up my sleeves and learned what I could and help as best as I could.

The backhoe was a little nerve wracking - yes, that is me at the wheel in the cab! Seth was a very patient teacher.

Seth’s children were both celebrating birthdays on the same day: Shir was 12 and Asher was 9. Asher’s party would be at the house the following day and party planning was right up my alley!

Shir was greeted at breakfast with balloons; Asher’s friends gathered after school for games and rewards based on Webkins money that became Asher money on this day. Shir was a pro at running the games and keeping the kids very entertained.

All the Webkins were invited and came to the party.

It was a short visit and the following day I was heading back to Tel Aviv; unfortunately, that was not what my ticket said. Seth spent quite some time on the phone with Egged Bus Line. In summary, nothing they could do. My fingers were crossed that I would have a seat for the 2-½ hour ride to Beer Sheva.

I took myself on a tour of the kibbutz in the morning and allowed Seth to really get some work done! The cows were very happy; I met the vet who was doing routine exams and loved his mobile office. Mr Bill checked out the algae at the Arava Institute. One could not miss the banner on the fence noting that the interest in freeing Gilad Shalit is a national passion. The view of the mountains is really breathtaking.

The seat on the bus, unfortunately, was not to be. It was standing room only when I bid farewell to Seth.

I shared the rear stairwell with a young Korean traveler. We were very close by the end of the trip! My view from the floor was limited, but I could watch the clouds move!

My new friend and I traveled on to Tel Aviv together. The bus virtually emptied at Beer Sheva and we had seats for the 1-½ hour trip to Tel Aviv. We caught the #4 bus and I sent him on his way to find his destination of the Korean Volunteer office. Amazing that he was headed to the same area as the Adiv. More amazing that I could help him with directions!

Patsy was waiting for me at the hotel. If you’re going to traveling half way around the world, it’s great to stay at a hotel that feels like home and the Adiv fits the bill. We bought a bottle of wine and caught up on our respective adventures. This was Patsy’s last night in Israel and we were the welcoming committee for some mutual friends, Sylvia and Jack Borden, who were with us at Matzrap last year.

It’s so much fun to be the “official greeters”. We had a celebratory bottle of wine in the lobby. and then off to dinner to catch up in earnest. Pam Lazarus, the Sar-El coordinator for the volunteers, and her friend Szabo joined us at dinner.

I was excited that Jack and Sylvia were back. I love them like my parents! In their 80’s, they have been Sar-El volunteers for many years and have the energy of ever-ready bunnies.

With the sun shining the next day, I was thrilled that Jack and Sylvia wanted to join me on a walk to Jaffa.

The Tayelet is a paved beachside walkway, which provides a 1+ mile path between Tel Aviv and Jaffa. Since last year, the Promenade had been completed;

the swirly design can be seen from an airplane just before you land, when you fly into the Ben Gurion airport.

Just south of Tel Aviv, Jaffa is a beautiful city that is rich with historical and cultural significance. High on a hill, Jaffa’s strategic hilltop location, natural harbor and abundance of wells have been the variables that created a contested location dating back to Biblical times. Today, it is bustling with its integrated mix of Jewish and Arab citizens, who run an array of colorful markets, fine seafood restaurants and interesting little shops.

Jaffa has been a melting pot since the late 1800’s. Jews began resettling in 1840; by the end of the century, the birth of Zionism and anti-Jewish pogroms in Eastern Europe, had boatloads of immigrants arriving. The overcrowding in Jaffa encouraged some Jews to move out in 1886 and build a new neighborhood to the north, Neve Tzedek. This historic district became popular with artists and intellectuals and today is a sought after address.

The landmark clock tower in the center of Jaffa was built in 1906 to mark the 25th year of the Turkish Sultan Abdul Hamid II.

We continued walking through the narrow streets looking at the tiny shops along the way.

We stopped for beverages: gelato with espresso, nanno (mint tea) and cappucinno

and then caught the bus back to the hotel.

My walking tour continued later that evening as I headed to dinner in Neve Tzedek with Steve Schwartz, a friend of my sister’s college roommate. Liz Bien. We took a circuitous route and finally found our destination. The restaurant is in the building complex that includes the Suzanne Dellal Center.

Dinner at the restaurant, Bellini, was fabulous!

This complex is a fitting centerpiece to the Neve Tzedek neighborhood. The main building was originally a boys' school, built early in the 20th century. During the War of Independence, the complex became a strategic center for the Haganah (the Jewish Army). The schools stayed open until the 1970s. In 1989, the complex was restored, and became the Suzanne Dellal Center for Dance and Theatre. It is one of Tel Aviv's premiere performance venues.

The following day, my sister Gail, a slew of cousins and my buddies from Sde Temain would all be converging at the Adiv.

The adventure continues…

My Tour of Duty Ends –Highlights

2009-03-15T14:02:00.000-07:00

There are some notable facts and pictures from Sde Teiman that I want to share with you. The first is what a wonderful group of volunteers we were. Last year, we were split up working in small groups in different warehouse; this year we all worked in the same space. It wasn’t quite 24/7, but we did spend a lot of time together and our productivity was high.

At the end of our first 2 days, we packed enough kit bags to support an infantry company of 120.

At the end of the second week, we had completed 650 bags!

At times, the piles of equipment seemed larger than life:

At the end of the second week, we sorted and returned to the warehouse in Beer Sheva for repairs:

1030 pairs of pants
1010 shirts
2106 jackets
706 sleeping bags
We filled palettes with clothing that was bundled according to Shuki “10/10” (for pants and shirts) or “5/5” (for jackets). His code for returning anything to the warehouse was “Outside”. Sometimes it was too much for the forklift!

And amidst this productivity, we had fun:

I am unable to put into writing what Patsy and Stuart are doing:

Uniforms were sorted by size: Bet = Medium, Gimmel = Large, Mem = Extra Large. Patsy had an unbelievably difficult time with these Hebrew letters. Her translation went like this: Bloomies = Medium, Gimbels = Large and Macys = Extra Large. Everyone has a pneumonic device that works for them.

Do you remember that I mentioned how we gave people nicknames?
While we were sorting uniforms, we found many never worn pants and shirts. Not necessarily the size we needed, but they were brand new.

Enter an officer in search of new uniforms. He looked through the piles of XXL,selected what he wanted and I tied a lovely little bundle for him. Of course it was secured with a bow! His nickname was Double Mem. Later that day we chuckled as Double Mem was back in the warehouse in search of additional uniforms. and when we looked a second time, he was head up the road with “shopping bag” full.

We laughed so hard that we almost wet our pants.

One day we had additional assistance in the warehouse from some hearing impaired young adults.

They were delightful and helped us be on our best behavior for one day.

We found a variety of equipment that required modeling:

We had our official picture taken on the tank:

After this, all I can say is boys will be boys –
Ken was fascinated with ….

And Stan was on top of the world!

Mr Bill had a great time at the base, traveling in my pant pocket whenever possible:

and was well accepted amongst the group. He got a bit knotted up in the heavy-duty twine,

And then donned his own ammo belt, ready to serve! Some thought he might be a Jihad suicide bomber, but I clarified that. He’s a nice Jewish boy.

It was great that Patsy was willing to return with me this year. Her influence as my mentor last year was legendary. This year I proved that I had learned my lessons well and had a bit of contraband to celebrate being back on the base together!

This was the one and ONLY time that I wore my official hat. A picture is worth a thousand words.

The food was, well, kosher sustenance at best. This was a great way to start the day - we initially thought that this soldier was going to fix the eggs!

Although the facilities may have been lacking, Eden, a logistics officer was very available to us; she stopped by our bunks to see what furniture might be available for our belongings. We laughed that a pair of “granny panties” were hanging to dry in the picture!

Commander Pinney also requires special mention. He had a presence on the base and a heart of gold. He chatted with us whenever our paths crossed and smiled whenever the paparazzi were around!

He handed each of us the “group picture certificate” and personally thanked us for our service on his base.

He’s so photogenic and very easy on the eyes!

The madrichot: Shachar and Daphne were the best: They were helpful, funny, creative, and wise beyond their 19 years. Their wealth of knowledge about Israel was amazing.

Patsy, Doris and I enjoyed the back of the bus, whenever possible. Mr Bill loves traveling with the girls. We were roomies and a dynamic trio. It reminds me of the Girl Scout motto: Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold.

I was amazed at the acres of greenhouse tomato plants at Kadesh Barnea

Last but not least is Shuki, our warehouse manager. He is a retired IDF Master Sergeant who was volunteering (just like us) with the IDF in support of Operation Cast Lead. He always had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, his shirt was a little snug around the waist, and his persona was larger than life. Although he struggled with his English, he was organized and motivated his Sar-El volunteers to work beyond his expectations. He opened his home to some of the volunteers for the weekend; the guys said the Moroccan food that his wife cooked was a never-ending feast!

As the sun set on this Sar-El tour of duty, I had many mixed emotions. Being on sabbatical has allowed me to be a volunteer and with the return to full time school nursing in September, I do NOT expect to be in uniform next year at this time. Retirement cannot come fast enough!

The Outing – Into a Sand Storm

2009-03-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

Our last day at the base was a scheduled trip to the area near the Egyptian border. It’s the Sar-El version of a class trip. Before we could leave, our bunks were cleaned and our uniforms returned, as only six of the group would be returning for the 3rd week.

With our bags packed and loaded on the bus, we bid farewell to Sde Teiman and headed southwest. We were enroute to Qeziot, an army base very close to the border, to pick up another group of Sar-El volunteers. This base was clearly in the middle of “no man’s land”!

Looking out the windows of the bus, the haze was increasing. If I was in RI, it would be fog; if I was in Philadelphia or NYC, it might be smog; if I was in Hawaii, it might be vog (from volcanic ash), but here in the desert, it is a sand storm.

This extremely arid climate of the Nitzana region is best known for the sandy landscape, which typically sprouts a variety of shrubs and blooming flowers in winter. Unfortunately, this winter has been dryer than most. It would be hard to see anything through the fine sand that whirled around us. There are a few heritage sites as well as small communities of unusual people who have chosen to settle here.

Our first stop was Kadesh Barnea. The history is fascinating. In 1977 a group of pioneers, who had just completed their army service, turned to the Sinai Desert with the intention of joining the national collective effort of making the desert bloom. The group settled in Kadesh Barnea in the Sinai desert. Following the peace agreements with Egypt in 1979, the group was forced to duplicate their Sinai settlement in the Negev. The pioneers chose to settle in the Nitzana area as they recognized its potential for agricultural development and also because of its proximity to the Sinai.

In 1980 the first settlement was established- "Kadesh Barnea” adjacent to Tel Nitzana. The settlement operated as a "moshbutz," a kibbutz that develops into a moshav (types of collective agricultural settlements), and they made a living mostly from cooperative agriculture, while the budget was divided equally among all the members.

In 1986 the settlement became a working moshav and each family worked its own farm. In 1987 the permanent settlement was established near the border of Egypt by the Nitzana border crossing, and the young families toiled with great effort and developed extensive branches of agriculture, including tomatoes, flowers, fish, vineyards, and more. There are currently 50 families, 30 of who are growers and the rest are professionals or own their own businesses.

We visited a cherry tomato farm. We sought shelter in the greenhouses as we were looking like cinnamon and sugar donuts, covered with a layer of sand. On 500 (dunams) acres, greenhouses are filled with cherry tomato plants. With a 12-month growing season, 20 tons of “tomatoes on the vine” are exported to European and Asian markets. (These numbers may be off a bit, however, the general idea is that there are a lot of greenhouses and an amazing amount of product.) The tomatoes were unbelievably sweet. In the business plan, the family decided that having an “export only” crop would be financially advantageous.

There are many variables that allow for successful farming in the area: the long growing season, water from a local spring and hot days and cool nights promote strong plants.

Chani Zemach, our guide, took us to his family business, Desert Magic, which makes sauces, spreads and jams from the local produce. Chani and his wife started the business after moving to Kadesh Barnea 7 years ago. The business which started in their own kitchen, recently moved to a larger building to accommodate the growth of the business. We sampled all of the products and invested in the local economy. The eggplant and mint relish was my favorite!

Unfortunately, the visit to the beehives was cancelled due to the weather. In addition to making honey, bee sting therapy is provided by this family.

The development of the area is amazing. In my estimation, the people who settle here are current day pioneers. The Nitzana Youth Village and Educational Center serves as a residential Hebrew language school for young immigrants, an “outward-bound” style nature school. Nearby is a goat cheese farm, an adobe inn for eco-tourists and vineyards and a winery that is producing distinctive “boutique” wines.

Noted on the literature from the Kadesh Barnea Winery:
“Some 2,000 years ago, in what today is Israel’s arid Negev region, the Nabateans -- an ancient people who were masters at coaxing vegetation from the dry sand, rocks and hills -- brought forth grapes from the desert.”

In this tradition, in 1995, the Zadok family planted 30 dunams (acres) of vineyards in the Western Negev near the Sinai border at the Kadesh Barnea Moshav. Sunny days, cold nights, mineral-rich soil and drip irrigation combine to produce some of Israel’s best grapes in a most improbable location. In 2000 the boutique Kadesh Barnea Winery was born specializing in, full-bodied wines, which showcase the unique taste of Negev grapes.

Unfortunately, the winery was a “no-no” on Sar-El sponsored tour. I somehow knew that I would not be back in the area to go on a wine tour myself. The Kosher wine label is Abarbanel and is available in the states.

About 10 miles down the road toward Egypt is an observation point, which looks toward the original (biblical) Kadesh Barnea where the prophetess Miriam is buried.

Our brief stop at the border crossing with cameras in hand was not well received by the border guards. We were told “no pictures” and requested to return to the bus. Not wanting to have an “incident” at the border, we complied.

In the distant past about 2000 years ago, Nebataeans lived in the area and their main livelihood was trade and farming. The Nebataeans developed the spice routes and later, following the Roman conquest, they settled in permanent agricultural settlements.

Today you can still see the remnants of ancient agriculture on the farms, hilled terraces and river channels, and the apparatus for wine production found in the cities of Shivta.

Our next stop was Shivta National Park, a Nabatean and Christian city in the heart of the desert. Shivta differs from the other Nabatean cities in the Negev Desert in that it did not sit on any commerce route. The settlement was not fortified and therefore is considered a large agricultural village. Shivta was founded during the early Roman period (first century B.C.E.). We explored the Roman-period ruins, in particular,the Colt House, named for a team of archeologists led by H. Colt (son of the famous gun maker),who dug in Shivta in 1933-34.

We sought shelter from the blustering winds in one of the caves and had a history lesson.

The windowsill where I am sitting is believed to be an old hospital.
The storm persisted and it was difficult to find much shelter.

Sachar, our madrica reminded us of Jackie-O with her scarf and dark sunglasses.

Back on the bus, we headed north, dropping people off along the way: at the base, at Beer Sheva and finally Tel Aviv, where my tour of duty officially ended.

Fear not, the adventure continues..

2009-03-14T06:09:00.000-07:00

Although still mandatory, evening activities were actually interesting and fun this year. The evening with the soldiers gave me a better understanding of mandatory service. Orin, 22 and Sachar, 19 are both Givatti soldiers.

Sachar was injured in combat and is now in communications. Young men have a 3-year commitment and young women have a 2-year commitment. Officer training requires an additional year for both. (A year of community service is an option before the army, and those who chose a religious exemption can also do community service.)

Military salary is based on the level of risk. Monthly salaries are 700 NIS for combat soldiers, 500 NIS for non-combat soldiers and 400 NIS in communications. When not in combat, soldiers return home on the weekends.

Founded in 1948, the IDF is supported by 50% of the country’s taxes. Money is always a concern; although they carry automatic weapons, they only use single shots to conserve ammunition.

Both of these soldiers agreed that the Operation in Gaza was so successful due to military intelligence. The ongoing activity in Gaza poses some philosophical issues is as much as Hamas honors the sanctity of death and Israel honors the sanctity of life.

As well spoken and confident as these young men are, the reality is that they are still kids. We proved this with lollipops at the end of their presentation!

Other much “lighter” programs included an Israeli geography game.

I was very surprised that my knowledge of the country was on the mark or more literally on the map! I had traveled almost of the country last year and remembered many landmarks.Look at Mr Bill!

One evening was dedicated to a discussion of the value of a life. What would anyone of us give for a package of instant soup? For a copy of the soldier’s Tanakh? For a colored picture of the new members of the Kinessett?

We talked about the exchange of soldiers. Two soldiers: Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were captured in the Lebanon War in 2006. In good faith, their release was negotiated for the exchange of Samir Kuntar (who murdered a family), 4 other terrorists and 199 bodies of other Lebanese fighters. The bodies of these two Israelis were unceremoniously dropped off the back of a truck in coffins.

The #1 question now is what to do about Gilad Shalit, a soldier in captivity in Gaza for almost 1000 days. Shalit was kidnapped in Israel in a cross border raid on one of the crossings from the Gaza Strip by Palestinian militants. Since June 2006 he has been held hostage by Hamas. To quote our madrichot: "In Israel every teenager is a soldier, we can all be Gilad, our mothers can all be Aviva Shalit."

The Jeopardy game was very competitive; the best part was Daphne’s score keeping. She was happy giving teams smiley faces when they didn’t score points.

Dr Asher Tall, a pulmonary physician and father of one of our madricha, Shachar, spoke with us about his own military experience in the late 60’s and 70’s. This was the first time that he had spoken in public about this chapter in his life. During the Yom Kippur War, Asher joined many other volunteers to fight in the war. Although his wife knew that he was going to fight, he did not tell his mother at that time.

The story is compelling and my abbreviated version may not do it justice. During the war, there was a tragic battle at a place that was called the Chinese farm, so named for the identification on the irrigation equipment in Chinese writing. The unit decided to cross the canal and marched into an Egyptian ambush and hundreds of soldiers died. In the aftermath of the incident, there was question if one of the paratroopers had “done his job” or hid in a ditch. For years they searched for “Menasher”, who was the mis-identified Asher Tall. Since the early 1980’s there have been queries about the incident and the events were finally clarified when Asher was identified as the missing soldier called Menasher. The soldier who may have been brought up on charges was cleared. A book has been written and it sounded very interesting. Unfortunately it’s only published in Hebrew.

Needless to say communications have significantly improved in the IDF over the past 35 years. Volunteers and reservist make up the larger part of the military in war time.

Dr Asher Tall currently is practicing at Soroka Medical Center in Beer Sheva. He has cared for children with cystic fibrosis for much of his career and recently changed direction into sleep apnea studies. He has collaborated with physicians at CHOP – Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. Small world.

The finale to the evening programs was receiving our certificates.

It might seem like a grand finale, however,
The adventure continues…

Sde Teiman – Week 2

2009-03-13T13:04:00.001-07:00

An early Sunday morning departure from Jerusalem had us back in Beer Sheva on time for a rendezvous with our fellow volunteers. We had coffee at the Central Bus Station and shared stories of the weekend while we waited for the little van to shuttle us back to the base six at a time.

Back in our uniforms, we learned that there would be an inspection sometime during the week and we accepted the challenge of organizing the warehouse.

We continued to sort uniforms and jackets, pack “kit” bags, as well as cleaning the rifle magazines,

checking out “new finds” and washing canteens.

It seemed like an ambitious challenge, but we rose to the occasion. We also managed to have fun and a lot of laughs along the way.

The dining room is the most difficult place to describe.

The tables had wobbly legs, and sometimes they fell off! It did not deter us from rearranging the furniture for “family” meals. Napkins were non-existent and we bought our own.

The cleaning style was something else. I wasn’t sure if the mogave (squeegie) that was used on the tables was also used on the floors.

These soldiers were willing to smile when asked! Plastic plates and utensils were a small part of the ambiance. The soldiers’ plates were always full to overflowing.

Sometimes they didn’t bother with the plates!

The new recruits had to maintain a vigil over their equipment.

When they brought the gear into the dining room it was always set down on a blanket.

Shuki turned 51 and we made a card and ate cookies to celebrate - volunteer style.

He “video'ed” this birthday party on his cell phone to share the moment with his wife. How sweet is that? Because the senior officers were busy with the pending inspection, they were unable to attend our small gathering and a second party was held the next day, when the commander and other base staff joined us in the warehouse. This was a “real” party with cake, snacks and soda!

It was very apparent to all of us that Shuki was a beloved member of the “team”.

When the commander was around, we always had fun. He was engaging and caring. When the guys asked if we could go for a ride in an APC (Armed Personnel Carrier), he took out his cell phone and, POOF, like magic, two APC's arrived for a tour around the base!

It reminded me of a kid’s birthday party with a donkey. We donned our helmets and off we went for a ride around the base. Believe it or not, Commader Pinney was waiting for us to return!

Inspection was the following day and we were ready! Our goal was to make Shuki and Commander Pinney “look good”.

The shelves were stocked, the helmets and "kit" bags were aligned and the “big cheeses” arrived. At times, it felt more like a press conference and they indulged us as the cameras were going double-time!

Inspection was a success and we all had a chance to speak our 2 cents.

We gave many of the staff nicknames – Shuki was Shuki, but there was one officer, whose name was Smiley – 2nd to the left in the photos. We never learned his real name, but when we mentioned Smiley, everyone knew who we were talking about! If I had known that they were inspecting the vehicles as well, I would have left Mr Bill at the wheel!

The most amazing part of this experience was the interest that all of the commanders showed in the volunteers. They were warm and engaging and truly appreciated our service to the IDF.

As the sun set on that day, the inspection was over, Shuki and Pinney had smiles on their faces, and our heroes and heroines were giddy with joy having cruised around the base in an APC!

And the adventure continues…

Jerusalem - Continued

2009-03-09T08:16:00.000-07:00

The remainder of the weekend would be a hard act to follow after our foray into archeological exploration. We had found ourselves a great taxi driver, Jameel aka Gimi (his spelling). We returned from the dig to continue our adventure on foot, but assured Gimi we would call in the morning for Shabbat transportation.

I knew there were a few stops that were “musts”. The Mahaneh Yehuda Market, often referred to as the 'Shuk', is the largest outdoor marketplace in central Jerusalem. It takes up a whole small neighborhood, between Yafo and Aggripas streets. The fresh fruits and vegetables always provide Kodak moments, but in addition one can purchase baked goods, fish, meat, prepared food, spices, clothing and shoes, house wares, textiles and even Judaica. Here is one stop shopping! I was in search of the spice stand and the halvah stand, and my general sense of direction did not fail me.

The twin towers of paprika at my favorite spice booth were easy to spot.

I found only one halvah booth when I was at the shuk last year and loved the shredded halvah.

We planned a rendezvous with friends at the Wall and were hoping to see the dancing that often precedes the beginning of Shabbat. On this day it was not to be. I was still suffering with a bad back and was taking ibuprofen around the clock. The down side was that I could fall asleep wherever I sat down. My friends took advantage – at least I wasn’t drooling (but I was out cold).

Awakening from my nap, I looked around and was ever so surprised to find my cousin Nancy and Howard and grandson, William standing in the plaza. Jerusalem is a small place! I had tried to reach them in vain and was very excited that are paths were crossing!

Mr Bill had an opportunity to enjoy the Wall (from the women’s side) too. Unfortunately, no black hat or suit for him.

Saturday morning brought another beautiful day and off we went to the Israel Museum. Public transportation shuts down on the Sabbath, but Gimi was available and at our service! The museum is under construction and the permanent exhibits are closed but the Shrine of the Book and the Model of the Second Temple were open.

I was quite fascinated with the design of this exhibit last year and it did not disappoint on the replay. The Shrine of the Book is the home of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other exceptional exceptional manuscripts. The building consists of a black basalt wall and striking white dome. The juxtaposition of the color: black and white, and the shapes: rectangular and dome shaped, create a stunning effect. The white dome covers a structure that is two-thirds below ground with a reflecting pool that surrounds it. These opposing geometrical shapes create a monumental effect moving from darkness to light.

The Israel Museum is also home to an accurate model of Jerusalem in the late Second Temple Period. The model is to scale and provides a birds’ eye view of a bygone era. This link is a fabulous virtual tour of the model:
http://www.imj.org.il/panavision/jerusalem_model_index.html

And Big Cousin is watching! Once again, I spotted cousin Nancy, Howard and William wandering around the museum grounds. (The white dome is in the background.)

Gimi was waiting for us when we left the museum and decided that we should have lunch at the Ein Kerem Village. It was a picture perfect day and the village was a “happening” place. Gimi has an “inside” connection and easily secured a table for us.

We opted for a walk around the ultra-orthodox neighborhood, Mea Shearim. Being respectful of Shabbat, I didn’t take any pictures until we were outside the gated area. This favorite photo credit belongs to Patsy Kart!

As the sun set on Shabbat, Jerusalem comes alive. We headed to Joy, one of my favorite restaurants in the German Colony. (Patsy knows the owner.) You know the expression, "third time is the charm"? Patsy leaned over the table and whispered to me: "you will not believe who just walked in!" Sure enough, my cousins were following me around Jerusalem. Another kodak moment as they dined with their cantor and family.

We returned to the Beer Sheva the following morning and resumed working in the warehouse by mid-day. As each day brings something new –

The adventure continues…

The Temple Mount Sifting Project

2009-02-25T08:06:00.000-08:00

Being assigned to an army base in the Negev, I thought it would be fun to “experience” the south. I tried so very hard to put together a weekend of adventure south of Beer Sheva; unfortunately, without a car, it seemed a bit short of activities to keep us going for the first weekend away from the base. The thought of being stranded in the desert with nothing to do on Shabbat was not appealing. Jerusalem called – and we answered.

Our Friday activity was a sifting project at the Tzurim Valley National Park. The story behind this project is poignant and sad. But first, a little history.

Herod build the Temple Mount about 2000 years ago on Mount Moriah; it is best described as a platform around the temple. Visualize a hill that was covered by a shoebox. The southern side had 88 arches and columns to support the platform. There were many cisterns and passageways that were last used by the Crusaders/Christian Knights for stables. These were known as the Solomon’s Stables. This was classic Herodian architecture.

For centuries after the destruction of the Temple by the Romans, either foreign rulers or the Islamic Wakf have forbidden any work on the mount itself. In addition they have never allowed access to the site or to anything underground.

The first problems began about 13 years ago when the stables became a mosque. In the building, windows were opened in the southeast walls. There was no architectural oversight during this construction and many “old things” were destroyed. Three years later, in the construction of an emergency exit (which would have been underground at the time), more than 10,000 tons of dirt were excavated and unceremoniously dumped just outside of the city in the Kidron Valley. This was NOT an excavation in the archeological sense, but rather tractors and backhoes clearing an area with wanton disregard. There had never been any archeological study conducted on the Temple Mount.

The Islamic Wakf, the Moslem trust, conducted this illegal construction project. In 1999, archeologists believed that it was the goal of the Wakf to turn every vacant point on the Mount into a mosque, and secondly by doing this without sanctioned oversight, to prevent any archaeological research on the mount that might reveal elements of its Jewish past. The soil is literally bursting with archeological wealth relevant to Christian and Moslem, as well as Jewish history.

The soil was believed to be rich in information, as the human history of the Temple Mount was undocumented. Even though the examination of soil and artifacts were no longer in their original contexts; it remained an important task to undertake. The first task of the project was to move the soil to the Tzurim Valley National Park, where the current project is located. Initially mechanical portable screeners were used; and then replaced with hand sifting and a process of washing the material and scrutinizing it to identify all the archaeological artifacts.

Funded with private donations in 2005, the project has sifted through 15 percent of the rubble to date. The staff and volunteers (50,000 and counting) have uncovered history-rich artifacts, from the First Temple Period until today amidst the rubble, including a large amount of pottery dating from the Bronze Ages through modern times, a large segment of a marble pillar's shaft, and over 100 ancient coins, among them several from the Hasmonean dynasty. Primarily volunteers who heard of the project by word of mouth and through Jerusalem-based email lists have conducted the work at the site.

And this is where we enter the current project. Aron gave us an overview of the project and off to the sifting tables we went. We chose a bucket with material soaked in water, spill it onto a screen, and spread the mud out evenly. The material on each screen is thoroughly washed;

it is picked over for any man-made items. Generally, there are six common types of finds:

* Pottery
* Glass shards
* Bones
* Metals
* Mosaic stones
* Rarer finds such as coins, seals or jewelry may also turn up.

And did I have a lucky day! I was quite proud of myself when I identified a knuckle of some biblical animal. That went into the “Bones” bucket.

The other items that I wasn’t sure of were the winners:

a piece of a speckled glass ring that was dated to the Byzantine era, and a triangle piece of Opus Sectile (floor tiles).

These artifacts were put into little plastic bags and labeled with identifying info that included my name and email address.

My friend Doris found a coin.(This apparently is the official pose for anyone finding a coin!)

Frankie stressed that the finds are unique because they are part of the first archaeological project that has ever examined artifacts from the Temple Mount. Frankie has been studying the glass and was very excited to add another piece to her the collection.

Every one is very important and exceptional. Even the smallest piece of pottery that is found can be dated to a certain period of history which, when processed statistically, will help to understand the amount and types of activities that took place on the Temple Mount throughout history. The project’s deeper meaning is a spiritual connection to a wonderful and holy place.

Replaying this memory has certainly increased the depth of this experience. It started out as part of a continuing adventure and concluded as one of the most meaningful events in my life… making history.

Controversy has always been associated the Temple Mount and, unfortunately, will continue to be a dividing line in the sand of religious beliefs. For more information regarding the project, go to http://templemount.wordpress.com

This is a text associated with the Project:
Thou wilt arise, and have compassion upon Zion; for it is time to be gracious unto her, for the appointed time is come: For Thy servants take pleasure in her stones, and love her dust (Psalms 102: 14-15).

And the adventure continues…

The Election

2009-02-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

One of our evening activities could have been called Israel’s National Election – A Primer. It appears to be a convoluted process. It also appears that it hasn't been working well, as no party has been able to remain in office for a full term of 4 years.

I had seen the billboards in Tel Aviv, and they called to me and my camera. The candidates were larger than life! The reality was that I had no idea what voting in Israel entailed.

This will be a very short posting, as I have no expertise in Israeli politics. The voting process, however, is noteworthy in an arcane way. All of the soldiers were able to vote on the base. The "local" voting sites take care of a large number of voters who would otherwise be required to submit absentee ballots. Our “club house” was turned into the polling site (and therefore off limits to us).

The soldiers came to vote in "waves", but the wait was never long.

There were about 32 parties in the running with platforms that range from “marijuana” to the “ultra-orthodox” and most everything in between.

Each party has a colored slip of paper (a small slip of paper) that is placed into an envelope with identifying information, and then put inside a second envelope, with more identifying information.

Talk about hanging chads!

News in general gets to us slowly, and news of the election results was no different. Days have turned into weeks as the candidates attempt to form a coalition. No winner as yet. Ultimately the Prime Minister makes the decision – stay tuned, and appreciate American style democracy!

Sar – El Revisited. Part 2

2009-02-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

A correction: The operation in Gaza was called Solid Lead (not iron) because it started during Chanukah and dreidels are made of lead (didn’t know that). I think I read in an American publication that it was Cast Iron, which may have been a loose translation.

Our workweek started with a Tu’bishvat celebration. We were joined at flag raising by some “important people” and a group of hearing impaired children.

Watching them sign the words of Hatikva brought tears to my eyes –literally. The base rabbi said two prayers: one for rain and one for the safe return of Giliad Shalitt’s (the soldier captured in Gaza) Tree planting was next. A fellow volunteer, Doris shared the activity with a new fb.

With the trees in the ground and a bag of nuts and dried fruits in our hands, we went off to meet our manager, Shuki and begin to work in earnest.Shuki himself is a volunteer. A retired sergeant with 28 years in the military, he returned to oversee the warehouse. We would be sorting and repacking the duffel bags for the infantry troops. Before this could be done, the uniforms needed to be sorted for wear and tear and by size.

In just 2 days, the girls, 6 of us, sorted a palette’s worth of uniforms and sent 420 pairs of pants, 390 shirts, and 235 jackets to the warehouse in Beer Sheva for repair or replacement. Please don’t think that I personally counted them. We bundled them in 10’s and they were counted as we loaded them onto the truck.

While we sorted clothing outside the warehouse, the boys were doing “man’s work” inside!

Not bad for a bunch of mid-aged men! We decided this would be the centerfold for the next Sar-El newsletter.

We had a few “welcome” meetings. The Chief Operations Officer, a major explained the workings of the base. Sde Treiman is a static logistic center whose main function is to resupply the troops in the south. The Territorial Logistic Brigade provides a wide range of recovery efforts. There is no ammunition stored on the base due to its proximity to Gaza.

I met the Brigade Commander outside the dining room and was invited to have lunch with him (with Doris and Patsy, too).

He was the most gracious, hospitable man, who was interested in who we were and most appreciative of our volunteer service. Lunch with the officers was a treat; aside from being served, there were napkins! The Commander spent last year in Washington DC at an officer training college. That is important information in as much we were able to converse in English!

We did have the regularly scheduled "receiving our wings"/epaulettes ceremony:

And the next day, the rabbi’s prayer was answered…in a very BIG way. Windstorms, starting at noon translated into major thunderstorms by late afternoon. Torrential rains, huge lightening strikes and very loud thunder boomers resulted in a 15-hour power outage! No hot water and limited facilities in the kitchen. Almost like being back in Girl Scout Camp! Evening activities were cancelled; too bad!

Stay tuned for the National Elections –
And, of course, the adventure continues…

Sar- El Revisited – Part 1

2009-02-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

When I first thought about the second half of my sabbatical, Israel was still on my short list of travel destinations. I knew it would afford me an opportunity to give a little bit more to the “motherland”. My previous tour of duty was so much fun, I wanted to enlist again!

When I signed up with Sar-El for this volunteer program, the country was relatively quiet. The missiles continued to hit some of the smaller communities near Gaza on a regular basis, but it was a one-sided assault. Soon after purchasing my tickets, Operation Cast Iron, as the “event” in Gaza was called, was in full swing. (It has never been called a war.) I never thought twice about changing my plans. I knew that the army bases would welcome volunteers with open arms, as the need was more critical. I convinced my friend Patsy, whom I met at Matzrap last year, to sign up with me.

Volunteers-for-Israel (the American organization supporting Sar-El) sent out an urgent email in search of volunteers. And volunteers they got! During the winter months of January and February, Sar-El usually has 4-5 bases where volunteers are working; currently the 12 bases where volunteers are assigned.

We were to meet at the Arrivals Hall at Tel Aviv Airport for our assignments. The meeting times were staggered depending on the base to which you were assigned. After checking in and getting a little tag identifying the assigned base, we waited for the bus. We would be heading south to the Negev – to Sde Teiman, a base that is just outside of Beer Sheva.

The bus ride was delayed, but uneventful. I’m not sure that I was prepared for what I saw! I had been told that Matzrap, the medical supply base where I was last year, was considered the Hilton of army bases. I now know that it was really the Four Seasons. Unfortunately, this one didn’t quite meet all the standards of a Motel 6.

It did have a view, looking southeast to Beer Sheva. However, the facilities are a work in progress!

The barracks across from ours remind me of an entire block of row houses in utter disrepair; if you focus of the view to Beer Sheva, it is easier on the eye.
Three of us are sharing a room. The toilet and shower are about 2 “city” blocks away. There is however, a fire hose faucet that is just outside the barracks (brushing teeth under the stars comes to mind). Ah yes, let me get back to the room: the cot that I slept on the first night reminded me of a snowboarding “half-pipe”, and I was virtually crippled in the morning! We tied twine across the room so we would have a place to hang our towels and hammered a few nails in the walls for a variety of other items. Our clothes remain in our suitcases as there is nowhere else to keep them.

Let me digress a moment to the bathrooms. The initial tour left us speechless, and a bit outraged. The female soldiers (think teenage daughter) had not cleaned the toilets in quite some time!

Yes, there are two showers, but look closely, only one shower head. We didn’t know, at the time, that this would be a foreshadowing of sharing facilities on the base. They have since been nicknamed the “Mean Girls”.

We received our uniforms. The process has not changed. The Madrichot, our fearless leader, hold up a pair pants and if it reaches around your neck, it should fit! The uniforms themselves have not changed – still quite fashionable. A little more “warehouse shopping” (absolutely NOT Costco) included large packs of toilet paper (24’s), a bucket, soap, broom and mogave (long handled squeegee), which is my favorite!

Sde Teiman is a logistics base that supports the troops in the south. There are 2 others: one for the north and one for the east. Since the increase in the activity in Gaza, the population on the base was swelled 10 fold. Usually there are 120 soldiers assigned and currently there are 1500. You get the feel that the base is an active one. Training goes on 24/7 with night maneuvers most evenings. There are trucks of all shapes and sizes.

Our jobs entail sorting and repacking supplies for the soldiers in combat. This is just a snapshot of the base, more to come!

And the adventure continues…

Same Time Next Year – What I Should Have Said Last Year / Back to the Motherland

2009-02-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

It felt vaguely familiar landing Tel Aviv. I had a better opportunity to soak in the surroundings as I gathered my bags, stopped to pick up maps from the Bureau of Tourism and made my way to great fountain in the arrival hall.

I said quick verse of the Jewish Prayer, Shehechiyanu and was officially in Israel. It was 5:30 am and I had time for a more leisurely trek to the hotel. I decided to be adventurous on public transportation: the train to the city and the bus to the hotel.It worked like clockwork.

The Hotel Adiv is certainly feeling like the home away from home. My friend Patsy was up bright and early, warmly greeting me in the lobby with hugs and kisses. There were many other Sar-El niks staying at the hotel: some arriving to begin their tours of duty and others leaving having finished their volunteer army stints. The Adiv has evolved to be the first choice of locations to stay.

The Mediterranean Sea is always a draw and it was a beautiful day for a walk on the promenade. There were sights along the way!

The beach signs along the way remind you that there are rules of orthodoxy that preclude a family from enjoying the beach together.

We walked to the Tel Aviv Port, at the northern end of the city. Once abandoned, as the activities of the seaport shifted to Ashdod, the Port was developed by the city in the early 2000’s. The area was overhauled, creating a wide boardwalk and rehabbing the rundown warehouses into commercial space. It’s a “happening” place with a long strip of restaurants, retail stores, bars and nightclubs. Although a beautiful day will attract throngs of people, I’ve been told that the Port is the busiest on weekends and after dark when hordes of young clubbers descend on the strip of discotheques.

A new farmer’s market opened on Fridays and it was standing room only! The farmers from the North bring their produce to the city for this weekly event.The vegetables were beautiful and sampling of breads, cheeses and nuts was quite tasty.
The throngs of people were a bit overwhelming and we headed back to the hotel.

The best “people watching” on Saturday was folk dancing on the beach at the Renaissance Hotel. It’s a weekly event and the regular dancers put on quite a show.

Patsy and I were great observers - looking our touristy best!

I had a great reunion with my former warehouse manager from Matzrap. We ventured back to the Port as it felt like a summer day. Alfred, his wife Keren, his 3-year daughter Efrat and 8-month-old daughter, Mayah.

Although it had been difficult staying in touch with Alfred this past year (my emails often failed), it felt like we had been together yesterday. The big difference, of course, was baby Mayah. You might remember that Keren had been quite pregnant when I first met her last spring.

The following day, I opted for an early morning power walk (with Mr Bill) on the promenade. It was my good bye to the Mediterranean as my “deployment” was just hours away.

And the adventure continues…..

My Misadventures Continue: Part 2 - February 2009

2009-02-05T06:33:00.000-08:00

Who in their right mind wouldn't take the opportunity of an educational sabbatical and another 6 months of living simply (that is the effect of the 1/3 pay)? I don't know if the planning was off or if it was just a challenge, but this sabbatical got off to an unauspicious start.

Planning to leave the country 5 days after I stopped work falls into the category of"what was I thinking"? I was very stressed trying to finish up work at school and prepare my office for the ideal "seamless transition". And I managed. Sleep deprived with worry, I hope the new nurse can navigate the computer and flow of students. It is no longer my problem, as I am on sabbatical!

A predicted 1 - 3" snowfall on the night before my departure was actually a 6" dump that required my shoveling the driveway. It was an omen. An email from British Airways told me online check-in was ready; it really wasn't. The email should have read - your flight has been canceled. :( More time on the phone with a not so delightful agent and I was on a flight later in the day. Unfortunately this included a 12 hour "layover" at Heathrow and a 5:30am arrival in Tel Aviv on Friday.

So here I am in London. There is still snow on the ground; they handle the white stuff less efficiently than Philadelphia. It's very gray and very rainy today. The new Terminal 5 that British Airways opened sometime this past year has all the glitz and glam of a high end mall. Harrod's has a department store and the Duty Free shop goes on forever.

I'm beginning to believe that British Airways plans their flights so that passengers will be required to roam the terminal for hours. The variety of seating is amazing and it allows comfortable sleeping!

I've walked all the levels more than once, snapping pictures along the way. I was asked to leave a store that was no happy that I was photographing Liberty of London hankies(for women and men), which are a family favorite. I did manage to click this other photo, which is more telling - Is Britain Great?

The question will remain unanswered!

So, there are lots of places to shop; lots of electronics (Mr Bill is dwarfed by the sony screens)!"OH Nooooooooo - Will they be able to see me?"

This is what I've learned today. It is virtually impossible to talk your way into the British Airway lounges. No is No. I was very willing to pay for internet access today, knowing I would be here for 12 hours; however, when I was turned away from the lounge, I meandered down the escalator and found a comfy seat to log onto the computer. BINGO, I was still in range of the British Airway free WI-FI. I know my friend Wayne is so very proud!

The rest of the day will be deciding where to eat dinner - there are a plethora of restaruants: Zagat rated and not; sushi and a raw fish bar or perhaps some world food tasting.

So, as the techno problems start (I can't upload the any more pictures), I bid a fond farewell for the night. Cheerio from Heathrow!

And the adventure continues....