DAY  3

The mud did make our skin soft, and the magnesium in the water left a lovely sheen, but everyone who went in spent most of the time falling and rubbing salt water from their eyes.  Somewhat battered by the experience, we vowed to meet later in the lobby for drinks.

Saturday, 9 January

After breakfast we boarded our little bus and drove east to the Dead Sea, then south along the coast to Masada.  Along the way we saw tents dotting the hills and dunes; these are the homes of the Bedouin.  They are the true Arabs, our guide explained, originally from Saudi Arabia. The Bedouin still shun civilization, although the younger generation is assimilating at a rate that may well cause their traditional lifestyle to disappear in the next few decades.  The state has actually built cities to accomodate this nomadic people, but older Bedouin build tents behind their government issue houses, and when modernity seems too oppressive, they retreat to their tents and smoke their water pipes, and then the world seems much better.

As we drove along, we were given this useful advice: If you should ever find yourself lost in the desert, go to a Bedouin settlement; they will welcome you, whether you are friend or foe.  The man of the house will nod to indicate that you should sit, will clap his hands for coffee to be brought out, and using a primitive mortar and pestle will grind the coffee beans in a rhythmic motion which alerts his neighbors that a guest (and therefore coffee) is present.  He will then roast the ground beans and pour you a cup.  If you are an enemy, he will pour you a full cup to indicate that you should drink quickly and get out; if you are a friend, he will fill it one third of the way, so that you can stay for several servings.  The coffee will be terribly bitter, but after refusing it three times you must take it and show appreciation.  Throughout this time, not a word will be exchanged between you and the Bedouin, but after you have been served coffee three times, the man will begin to make small talk.  You will be a guest in his home for three days and a third; at the end of this time, if they've decided they like you, they will give you food and water, and wish you well on your journey.  If they've decided they don't like you, they will send you off, and in two hours they will hunt you down and kill you.

The Dead Sea, looking deceptively calm

We drove back through the Judean desert, which starts only one mile outside of Jerusalem.  The dunes stretch for miles, an immense expanse of sand reaching the horizon, becoming almost indistinguishable from it.

Bedouin men can have four wives, and they change them often.  A wife costs ten sheep and three camels, and to divorce her a man simply says, "Go home to your father."  If this happens three times, the woman is available to anyone else who wants her.

Abruptly, our bus pulled over to the side of the road.  We had been descending steadily, and at this point were about 800 feet below sea level.  On one side of us was a sheer drop-off, but to the left was a mountain, a winding path, and a white arch with an iron cross on top, stark black against a brilliant blue sky: this was Wadi Al-Quelt.  A wadi is a dry riverbed which only carries water once or twice a year during winter.  We climbed a steep and curved path to a promontory which dropped off sharply.  Far below was the wadi, a thin brown line snaking its way through the valley; cut into the mountainside opposite us were the cells of monks-- small openings in the rock into which monks are lowered by ropes, only to emerge once a week for Mass and the procurement of provisions.  To the left of the cells, also carved out of the side of the mountain, was a monastery on the site where its founder, Brother George, had his cell; Greek Orthodox monks occupy it to this day.

The Judean Desert

Back at the hotel we tidied ourselves and a few of us returned to the lobby for drinks.  The more weary among us had gone to bed, while the more virtuous among us had gone to Mass.  I, being only slightly weary and decidedly not virtuous, took a cab with several others (whose virtue is not in question) to the YMCA for a most delightful evening of Israeli music, singing and dancing.

Wadi Al-Quelt The archway leads to a promontory from which one can view the Monastery of Saint George

The Monastery of Saint George

After another short jaunt on the bus, we pulled over to the side of the road to get a view of Jericho.  Walking up a little hill, we passed two yellow markers; our bus was in Israel, but we were now in Palestine-- the part of the West Bank that has been given back as an autonomy to the Palestinians.  To the north is Jericho, and to the south Masada; Jerusalem lies to the west, and the Dead Sea to the east.  From where we stood we could trace the wadi through the land, and know that this was probably the path walked by Jesus (and anyone else journeying that route)-- in summertime the Judean desert reaches 120 degrees in the shade by 8am, making closeness to a water source a thing of paramount importance to travel.

Our guide explained that Jericho is the oldest city in the world, although a fellow at a coffee house I frequent later told me this was untrue.  Not being a historian, however, I am content to leave the matter unresolved and continue with my description.  Jericho is a place singularly without violence, a center of  opulence and decadence well-loved by the royalty of ancient times and the rich of modern times, and the first city to be liberated by the newly formed State of Israel.  In ages past the people of Jericho used to worship the moon, because in the desert at night it looms so large and bright and close that it seems like you can reach up and touch it.

Finally, we reached Masada.  Crowded into a cable car, we slowly ascended until the figures walking on the ground below us grew faint and indistinct.  Upon disembarking, a mere seventy-nine twisting, steep and narrow steps awaited us, but once we reached the top we saw the synagogue built by Herod, as well as the spot where the Romans finally breached the wall, only to find a fortress full of martyrs.  The Jews would have been able to withstand the seige, had not the Romans pressed their countrymen into the service of building the ramparts.  The zealots, unwilling to harm their own people, watched as the ramps got slowly higher.  To irritate the Romans who suffered terribly from the heat, they hung their dripping laundry from the tops of the walls, and even set up bathtubs so that they could splash at their enemies sweating below.  This is the place where the Israeli army used to take their pledge of loyalty, swearing, "We will never let Masada fall again."

Masada

Driving north again, we reached Q'umran.  Now an archeological site famous for the discovery of the Dead Sea scrolls, Q'umran was once inhabited by the Essenes-- radical, ascetical, apocalyptic hermits with dualistic tendencies who took lots of ritualistic baths.  The scrolls were discovered by a Bedouin child seeking a lost sheep (one tenth the price of a woman, give or take a few camels).  When the Bedouin saw how valuable the discovery was, they immediately ceased all drug smuggling and for two years looked for scrolls.

In excavating Q'umran, the method of "squaring" is employed.  Archeologists draw a square on the ground, investigate, and if nothing is found draw another, proceeding in this manner.  They will never, however, excavate an entire site, but will always leave about 40% for the next generation which may, with the new equipment and technologies that have been developed, better discover what time has hidden.

Q'umran

The cave a little left of the center is where the Dead Sea scrolls were found

We had lunch at Q'umran, and then headed towards the Dead Sea-- the lowest point on earth.  After a chaotic and typically European (meaning no regard for privacy) changing session, we emerged clad in bathing suits and ready to test just how impossible it is to sink in the Dead Sea.  The high winds, however, had caused an unpleasant environment-- the slopes leading into the water were treacherously slick.  I made a rather unglamorous entry clinging to a rope, floated for about thirty seconds, got salt water in my eyes and, half blind, quickly made for the rope, which only partially prevented me from being dashed against rocks as I floundered out.

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