It’s a Small World

I would be lying if I said we felt no unease as we swept around the roundabout into Abu Dis last night, past the big red sign warning of danger, and on to the busy, rutted street. We swung into our favorite shawarma shop and the owner and his son were as welcoming as ever. I’m not sure what we imagined, but looking at the news it all seems quite terrible! Reality was different, and we feasted on a platter of delicious Shawarma wrapped in Lafah bread, fresh chips and a medley of brilliant pickles. What’s with the Middle East and their brilliant pickles? The hot pink pickled turnips are my all time favorite!

Our host, Fadwa, and her sisters were in Jericho for the night, so we seemed to have the whole big 4 story house to ourselves. It was absolutely the most delightful feeling, walking past the beautiful pots of flowers, the meowing cats, and into the front door to home. They’ve had so much rain this winter that everything is brilliant green, the water tanks are full to overflowing and we could take long hot showers. Bed was bliss.

The next morning we headed out in high spirits, off towards the Dead Sea and one of our favorite haunts, Ein Gedi. It’s the oasis where David and his men hid out from King Saul, and it’s full of hiking trails waiting to be explored. Today our goal was to reach the Window Falls at the top of the Canyon. The weather could not have been better, 69* and sunny. The trail wound up and over a mountain, then dropped straight down into a canyon. It was a bit scrambly and clingy at places, as you wound your way down a mostly dry stream bed. I felt quite adventurous and nimble, til we got to the end and saw a group of students and their teacher having class back there. They had managed all the ladders and leaping with their books and lunches and iPads… so maybe it wasn’t so strenuous. We’re always taken down a notch when we hike. At another squirrelly part of the trail where we wobbled and clung, there was suddenly a young family. The baby was about two and the dad had a crutch. Either you hike, or you don’t, we decided. It’s not the gear or the agility for sure. It’s the love of the scramble.

Our next destination was Mt Sodom overlook. The trailhead starts right by Lot’s wife. It was fun, steep, salty, chalky and windy. Like super windy. All over there were salt caves, ready to swallow you up if you did a misstep. Some you could hear stones land in the bottom, some you couldn’t. The sharp salt cliffs rising up are truly magnificent, and I licked a little.

By the time we had summited that mountain, we were nearly hiked out. It was getting late and we had told Fadwa we’d spend the evening with her. The trail is not a loop, and the descent took us to a spot several miles down the road from our car. Thank goodness we’re in Israel, because we hadn’t walked far before a car pulled over and offered us a ride. The driver had a decided Mohawk, multiple tattoos, and had to spend some time shuffling in the back seat so we would fit. He and the gal with him had been exploring the salt cave inside Mt. Sodom. Google it sometime. It sounds absolutely epic, but a bit too technical for us. Clearly it involves rappelling. They said they had hiked 5 miles in.

The evening with Fadwa was bitter sweet. We sat in their living room, munching on oranges they had picked that day, bananas from their neighbor and kumquats from their little tree. These beautiful women are Palestinian, and their father died and their home was demolished by a bomb in June, 1967. This whole war seems to be bringing it all back to Fadwa. She was the eldest child and a teenager at the time, and was suddenly thrown into the roll of caregiver for her family. They told us the story again, this time with even more details, and our hearts broke all over again for them. Meanwhile the TV was busy showing the destruction of Gaza, and Hamas had just released a video of his soldiers killing Israeli soldiers. It was raw, ugly, and real. It’s the life of these people. On the other hand, we had lovely visiting, excellent hot sage tea, and good laughs.

We are not used to the daily life of joy/fear/uncertainty/hope that so much of the world lives with. The whole scenario left us feeling a bit raw, and we didn’t sleep too great. These people can use all the prayers we have to offer. Fadwa grapples so much with wondering where God is in all of this. She no longer practices her Muslim religion, because it clearly didn’t help them back in 1967. We know there’s comfort for her, but it would be so very hard to live that life every single day of your life.

For anyone who thinks kumquats are bitter, these girls had a solution. They made a sort of jam with the whole fruit that you ate all by itself. Sticky, cooked kumquats in a sweet syrup. They were ripping good! Interestingly enough, the fresh kumquats here are wayyyyy less bitter than the ones at home in the USA. Heath hates them at home, but ended up eating quite a few!