Thank you to everyone!!!

July 19, 2007
Toronto, Ontario, Canada

After almost 11 months on the road, we have returned safe and sound to our family, friends and home in Toronto. It was a thrilling, albeit not always easy, time for both of us. We recommend it to any of you who are so inclined.

THANK YOU!!!

To all those who fed us, gave us accommodation, or treated us nicely during our travels in and outside of Canada, we thank you. To all those who treated our children nicely during our absence, picked up our mail, took care of the house, did our tax returns, wrote to us or generally thought of us during our absence, we thank you. And to all the travellers we met along the way, we thank you for making our travels a wonderful and unforgettable experience. And to those we leave off the list, we apologize. That’s the danger of “thank you” lists.

First part: A rough geographic/chronologic order of our travels
Second part: Torontonians

Yaron G. and Sue R. (Toronto, Canada)
Sylvia and Frank W. (Winnipeg)
Darren and Wai Ming E. (Winnipeg)
Rena and Yachin S. (Calgary)
Marg and Blair W. (Calgary)
Nadine and Hartley W. (Calgary)
Corinne and Phil Y. (Vancouver)
Katya and Aaron W. (Courtenay)
Sharon W. (Courtenay)
Clare and Chuck W. (Victoria)
Jan N. and Brian Y. (Victoria)
Jodi and John DeM. (Victoria)
Dahlia and Rafi B. (Victoria)
Leah and Uri L. (Victoria)
Lara T. and her housemates (Berkeley, USA)
Susan S. (Berkeley)
Syma E. (Los Angeles)
Naomi D. and children (Los Angeles)
Edith and Joshua E. and children (Los Angeles)
Bette and Gerry T. (Palm Springs)
Joy D. and Aviva E. (San Diego)
Joan and Murray G. (Los Angeles)
Maureen and T. Lister (Auckland, New Zealand)
Sue and Tom R. (Whangamata—pronounced “Fungamata”)
Sue and Ron J. (Wairoa—pronounced “WhyRoa”)
Ian and Jean G. (Masterton)
Emma R. (Auckland)
Robyn and Jim R. (Sydney, Australia)
Aliza and Gary J. (Sydney)
Nick W. (Melbourne)
Carol and Barry R. (Melbourne)
Peter, Marilyn and Linda B. (Adelaide)
Gregg and Denuda (Bali, Indonesia)
Ita and Laila (Solo, Central Java, Indonesia)
Chris B. (Singapore)
Virak and Leak C. (Phnom Penh, Cambodia)
Mr. Baly, Sam and Peter (Bangkok, Thailand)
Charmi and Tushar K. (Dubai, United Arab Emirates)
Zayid and Shanoona Al B. (Muscat, Oman)
The Brothers (Wadi Rum, near Petra, Jordan)
Racheli and Elazar A-H. and family (Jerusalem, Israel)
Ofra and Bobbi E. and family (Jerusalem)
Nirit and Michael L. (Jerusalem)
Ruthi and Shmulik A. (Jerusalem)
Pnina A. (Jerusalem)
George and Dorin S. (Jerusalem)
Rena Shimoni (Jerusalem)
Dahlia and Rafi B. (Haifa)
Mona and Yacov G. and family (Na’an)
Orit G. (Tel Aviv)
Orna and Maurice S. (Monson)
Iris and Aviram S. (Rosh Ayin)
Yosefa S. and Eli (Yakum)
Hatace, Sema and Unal (Istanbul, Turkey)
Amy and Jeff W. (Canton, USA)
Kevin T. and Arden R. and Sue (Boston)

TORONTO

Jason D. for taking care of our loveable dog, Casey
Glenda M. for mail pick-up and sorting
Millie B. for mail receiving
Robbie and Daniella R. for income tax preparation
Benita and Gary F. for child-attention
Cindy and Mario F. for house repairs and plant care
Sue R. and Yaron G. for child-attention, pickup-services, and vehicle-lending
Gwen and Milt Y. for purveying their son Steve’s energy mints
Rhonda W. and Israel B. for putting us in contact with the Sue and Ron in Wairoa, N.Z.
Jupira M. and family (from Brazil) for living in and taking care of our house

All our friends who wrote and all the travellers we met around the world!!!

Please come visit and stay with us!! If you cannot, send your children or grandchildren.

Arieh and Val Waldman
Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Ode to Mephistos

Val here.

How can we resist our cousin Ron White's urgings that we talk about our Mephisto sandals! These wonderful sandals that have seen - how many? - towns and cities, battered landscapes, and towering ruins?

Our Mephistos have plodded through ruins that are wonders of the world! Cambodia: Angkor Wat - tens of gorgeous temples that gleam at sunrise and glow with pink reflection at sunset. Israel: we climbed the 250 steps of Bet She'an - to view from above the ancient city complete with amphitheatre, Greek temples, dwellings, and a magnificent cardo lined with Greek columns.

Jordan: Petra's huge boulder rocks have impressive striations caused by former earthquakes as well as remarkable buildings of Lost Ark fame which are carved into the rose rockface.

Our sandals avoided the cow poop in the old and new markets of Delhi, and jumped over the elephant and camel poop to explore the Amber Fort of Jodpur, India. They winced as they got polished and glued by a shoemaker in a tiny lane of Delhi. They trudged up the 150 stairs of the Harbour Bridge in Sydney Australia to view the gorgeous city from one of its towers. The shoes shirked our wet feet after our long, muddy trek through the hills, waterfalls, and pools of Fiji. The shoes stomped through the tunnels of Cu Chi where the Viet Cong fighters lived, fought, and hid. We explored the ancient city of Jerusalem slipping on the stone streets that overlooked excavations revealing layers of biblical civilizations.

Our Mephistos waited in a little box outside as we entered the golden Shwe Dagon Temple of Yangon, Myanmar, to walk barefoot on the marble floors that are cool in the evenings and hot during the day. They imagined themselves galloping across the huge Herodian hippodrome in Caesaria, Israel, where chariot races and gladiator challenges took place so long ago. The Mephistos tried to breathe despite being scrunched in the dry bag as they listened to the kayak paddles dip into the waters of Halong Bay in Viet Nam and down the small rapids of the Mekong River near Luang Probang, Laos. They padded through the lush terraced rice fields of Bali on a beautiful early morning walk. The wonderful battered shoes even climbed the 340 steps to allow us to peer into the active volcano at Mount Bromo, Indonesia. (We had to wear socks for that!)

Our shoes groaned up the steep hills to see the Hmong and Khammu tribes living near Luang Prabang, Laos. The shoes felt a little ashamed as they visited the zoos of Jerusalem, Singapore, and New Zealand. And they felt parched as they walked the desert sands of Palm Springs, U.S.A. in search of a roadrunner. They tiptoed through the soft grasses of Ginosar beside Lake Kinneret (the Sea of Gallilee) in Israel so we could photograph a pied kingfisher and a Hoopoe. They wondered at the huge stone floor of the Hagia Sophia church/mosque of Istanbul. They paused as they smelled the spices of Istanbul's spice market. Finally, the shoes tripped as Arieh crossed the street (against the light) in front of a streetcar in Istanbul, Turkey.

We must also mention the Magnum dark ice cream bar droppings that fell on their surface and the various beers that slopped on our toes: Kingfisher beer in India, Goldstar in Israel, Tiger in Thailand, Beer Lao in Laos, Mandalay in Myanmar, Angkor in Cambodia. And, of course, the tiny dropletss we let fall from the exquisite red wines of Australia and New Zealand which changed the colour of the leather only briefly.

We left the best for last. Our Mephistos perched under an armchair as we enjoyed the exceptional hospitality of our old and newfound friends and relatives in Canada, the United States, New Zealand, Australia, Dubai, and Israel.

Istanbul--City on TWO continents

July 16, 2007
Boston, MA, USA

Arieh here. We are now in Boston having “survived” a 12-hour flight from Istanbul to Chicago, a 2-hour stopover and then a 2-hour flight to Boston. We had plenty of time between flights and the only mishap was Val’s backpack disappearing. This was the FIRST time that any of our luggage went missing and it was delivered the next morning to our friends’ house in Canton (Boston) MA.

Istanbul was great and we almost didn’t go there. The 9 weeks in Israel was a wonderful way to end the trip and very relaxing compared to the rest of our trip. We usually knew where we were sleeping well in advance (in fact, our friends in Jerusalem were fighting with each other about us staying with them), we/I could read and speak the language, and there was not much opportunity to get lost. Public transportation was great and pretty efficient, car-driving behaviour was predictable (albeit not “Canadian”) and the weather was perfect (except for a few days here and there). Despite all the above, we were tired of traveling and we finally decided to cut out Turkey and Greece and return to Toronto around the end of July (through Boston).

Istanbul, Turkey—city on two continents (Europe and Asia). It was the only way, due to our change of itinerary, we were getting to Europe. We stayed for 4 nights. One of the days we went “back” to Asia and the rest was spent in Europe. Istanbul is a very friendly city and not just because we are tourists and have money to spend. Entering into stores one is greeted as a long-lost relative. Would you like Turkish coffee, hot apple tea or something else to drink? Even if we decline or don’t buy anything, no hard feelings. This was in stark contrast to the “guilt” feeling one got in East Jerusalem when one said “no thanks” to the store owner. One of our very fortunate experiences was eating dinner the first night. One of the young female students at the next table started talking to us (left female) and before we knew it, she and her female friend were sitting at our table. We then went out together after dinner to listen to some music in an outdoor café and share stories. The next day I went to give each of them a Canada pin (which I had forgotten to do the night before) and Hatace then suggested she and her boyfriend take us to Asia (across the Bosphorous) to show us their city. We agreed and had a wonderful time with her and Unal, a young lad who is finishing off his law studies and will be in Stasbourg for 4 months in September. (Hatace is studying communications and has a summer job with CNN). They took us to their favourite lighthouse-island watching spot and then up to the top of the highest hill in Istanbul where we had lunch and conversation. The hill-top park was full of people sitting around small low tables enjoying a Turkish coffee and picnicking. Hatace and Unal then accompanied us on a little Bosphorous boat tour. Very beautiful city and setting.

The hotel was clean, quiet (see the next paragraph) and in a great location. The picture below shows the view from our window or the rooftop café (breakfast included). We were able to see the Sultanahmet or “Blue” Mosque, the Sultanahmet Square (the Hippodrome) and we were right around the corner from the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts. A further 15-minute walk took us to the Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace museum. In a different direction (about a 10-minute walk) we would reach the Covered Bazaar. What more could a body want?

The Blue Mosque is a magnificent structure built between 1609 and 1616. It is very tall, has a tremendous amount of windows and natural light and has over 21,000 ceramic tiles. Of course, there is a huge courtyard and 6 minarets. The Blue Mosque is also the mosque closest to our hotel and this is proven to the guests 5 times a day when the amplified Call-to-Prayer is played. The first one is around 4:45 AM in the summer and the last one is around 10:00 PM. It can be quite beautiful if one is not sleeping. While this may seem an easy problem to fix (move to another hotel), it is not. The city is full of mosques, playing the Call to Prayer, and there is no escape. The Hagia Sophia is a church converted to a mosque converted to a museum. It was built as a church a few times (the first church was completed in 361 AD) and then converted to a mosque by the Turks in 1453. In 1934 Ataturk declared it to be a national monument and museum and so it is today. Well worth seeing.

And the Topkapi Palace is not one to be missed. Go early or go at lunchtime and miss the crowds. Again, a very large structure overlooking the Bosphorous—a palace fit for a king. It is a museum now showing exquisite jewellery (the Topkapi Dagger), jewel and gold-covered horse-drawn carriages, an armoury with all sorts of instruments of death from all ages, a huge bakery (not functioning) and beautiful sitting rooms and reflecting pools. Don’t forget the gardens. Oh, there is a special room called the "Circumcision Room". No need to describe what goes on there. What is of special interest are the ceramic tiles (picture) that are on the wall outside.

In all we spent 4 nights in Istanbul. The last afternoon Val went for a nap and I went for my last shave and haircut. This fellow was the best one throughout the 11 months of monthly shaves and haircuts. Very organized and didn’t miss anything. After this experience I then went to a Turkish Bath—one that has been ranked as one of the 1,000 things one must do before one dies. The Cagaloglu Hamam was opened in 1741 and is still very clean. Separate facilities for women. One can buy various packages; I opted for a package with a personal attendant. First one changes clothes in a little room with a little clean bed and a lock on the door. Into the steam room, wait around for about 10 minutes and then the attendant comes in. He gave me a 10-minute massage (not as gentle as those in Bali or Vietnam) and then scrapes me down—ouch. My back tingled for a few days. After the scraping he soaps and rinses me thoroughly. Then I can sit there for as long as I want. This place was not very busy when I was there at 4:30PM but between 2 and 4 they had a private function and it was quite full. Outside the steam room, one is then sat down, brought some tea, offered the opportunity to purchase further services such as shave and haircuts, food, more drinks or merchandise. The attendant didn’t speak a lot of English, but enough to ask me if I was satisfied with his service. He did earn his tip. And that was it. Very refreshing and now I can check this off my list of “Things to Do Before I Die”.

Excavations of Israel

Val here.

Israel has unearthed amazing ancient sights - well able to rival any of the sights we've seen on our travels in Cambodia, Jordan, India, Greece, and Egypt. It should be the place to go for anyone interested in ancient history and archaeology.

At Bet Sh'an we saw a huge city, complete with amphitheatre and temples. For me this city was the most amazing of all - with its huge Greek columns lining the cardo, bathouses, lavatories, ancient altars, and bridges. A multitude of stairs lead up to the Tel shown in the background of the first picture.





Caesaria: we marvelled at the huge stadium which allowed King Herod and the citizens to view chariot races.

At Bet Alpha we admired an ancient synagogue with a mosaic floor decorated in grapes, and animals and the astrological charts - making concession to Jewish sensibilities with a section of mosaic decorated with a Menorah and a shofar. (We have a representation of this part of the mosaic in ceramic tile given to us by George Sandrouni, our Armenian friend). We laughed as an entertaining film explained that the synagogue could not afford the master, so took his apprentice to do the mosaic floor. The apprentice copied representations from the houses of wealthy people and of churches to complete the floor, not always being in the least true to the acceptable Jewish symbols.

We visited Zippori in the western lower Galilee, a whole city unearthed with beautifully preserved mosaics that festooned wealthy homes in Roman times - a city with another amphitheatre which has been reconstructed to allow for concerts during the summer. Remains of this magnificent city include a system of streets, public buildings, dwellings, a central market, bathhouses, a synagogue and churches, mainly dating from the Roman and Byzantine periods, and a fortess and a church from the crusader period.


One of my favorite places is the town of Akko in the north of the country: we walked down the magical alleys of the city, and listened to the stones tell the stories of history, the battles, the love stories, the excommunications, and assassinations. We enjoyed the clever dramatization in the ancient bathouse which helped us imagine those times. We ate wonderful St. Peter's fish as we looked out at the harbor and the ancient wall that surrounds the city. We ate (arguably) the best hummous in all of Israel in its ancient market.

Housed in Ginosar, at the kibbutz where we stayed for five days, is an ancient Galilee Boat dating from BCE. It is part of the Yigal Allon Centre - which in addition to stories about the ancient boat, tells the modern story of the life of Yigal Allon.

And, of course, the excavations of Jerusalem. More about that in a later posting.

Gay Pride in Jerusalem

Val here.


In a previous posting I stated how wonderful was the culture and intellectual respect that characterized Jerusalem. Well....then again....

There is a rift between ultra-orthodox (Haredi) and secular Israelis in Jerusalem and the day that made this so obvious was the day of the Gay Pride parade. Let me describe our adventure.

June 20/07

This evening Arieh and I headed from Mivasseret Zion (our dear friends Bobby and Offra are hosting us there) to Jerusalem to show our support for the Gay Pride demonstration and after to go to theatre. We felt it was important to go to the Gay Pride demonstration because it had been so difficult for it to be arranged in this seemingly modern city. The orthodox are loudly against such a blatant flaunting of G-d's law. Their disapproval must make it so very difficult and lonely for gays in this city who are conscripted into an army system but yet face such discrimination within their community. Happily, the Gay Pride parade near Kikar Rabin in Tel Aviv faces few such problems. (The picture below translates as "Enough of Homophobia!")

When Arieh and I arrived on the outskirts of Jerusalem the bus stopped. Everyone got out. The roads in most of downtown Jerusalem were blocked by police or army. There were two buses horizonally blocking one street, barriers on another, a policeman redirecting traffic at another. Of course, the fact that there were no buses and virtually no taxis or cars meant that we had a long walk ahead of us. How wonderful it was to walk the streets of Jerusalem with no cars on the roads! But is is not like Shabbat - the stores are open so I could purchase fresh squeezed orange juice and a Magnum dark choclate ice cream bar from my favorite vendors.
As we walked we passed a huge demonstration by the Haredi community a few hundred metres away. It is because of them that the roads need to be closed. They were blocking Yaffo Street - the main downtown street of Jerusalem. Their bullhorns were intoning prayers of mourning.

We passed several groups of military youths in khaki or blue or grey uniforms, guns slung over their shouldrs ready, if necessary, to help keep order. We passed police and border police barring roads and showing presence. We even passed 25 riot police sitting at a square three blocks from the action, with their acrylic shields at the ready, if called, to control violent behaviour. Inasmuch as the Supreme Court stated that there was no reason the demonstration could not go on, the police had stated that they would be ready to control the situation. Well, they certainly had the numbers of personnel to do it!

Because we were not be able to get to the beginning of the parade on time, we walked to the end of the route to meet our dear friend Racheli Amir-Himel. She stood amongst the crowd, sporting a pink heart balloon, beaming, happy to be showing her solidarity for the marchers. It was a large, happy and friendly demonstration. There was little in-your-face clothing as there would be in Toronto, just a pink lace umbrella and a man with pink hair. The sky was festooned with two garlands of balloons and several demonstrators carried signs. The permitted area was defined by barriers with pleasant army officers letting people in and out when necessary. Two young women protested the march by searing our ears with piercing whistles. The journalists were delighted. At least there would be some minor confrontation to report. One of the marchers faced the woman and her whistle and declared, "we are the same people, I love you, we have been through so much together as Israelis, you are our people, why are you doing this?"
The angry whistles soon stopped - I'm not sure why, perhaps because of his words, perhaps because the police stopped it. We joined the demonstators for a while to show support. The majority of Orthodox protesters, it seemed, blocked traffic and deplored the demonstration from that end of the city. One American Orthodox we passed as we walked expressed her thoughts to her daughter, "Well, they have to have their pride, but it shouldn't happen here. Jerusalem isn't just any other capital city!"

We then went to our play - about the McCarthy era and the naming of names, The Value of Names. Two former friends meet after 30 years; Leo Gershen had betrayed Benny Silverman at the 1950 House UnAmerican Activities committee. The men discussed disloyalty, politics, friendship, and when to forgive.

Was its theme in any way connected to the earlier effort of gays to state who they are in their own country among their own people? I'm not sure. Something to think on.....

Well worth reading the following article describing the parade: www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/873728.html Have a look at the responses as well!

Honouring the military defenders of Israel

Val here.

The day after our visit to Yad Vashem we went to the Armoured Corps Museum at Latrun.

We faced another wall of names of the deceased. This wall lists 1,100 sons and daughters right up to the end of 2006 who have died since 1947 in their tank batallions fighting battles with Israel's unfriendly neighbours.

Another day takes us to the Palmach museum of Tel Aviv. It is a remarkable interactive museum which takes you through the lives and deaths of the young Israeli fighters of the Palmach in (1948 and after) who were desperate to keep their new country's civilians safe. If you remember your history, the day after the UN voted for partition, Arab irregulars started shooting in earnest. There was a siege of Jerusalem for months - anyone who took the road up to Jerusalem was in danger of being killed. The Palmach took the responsibility of finding an alternate route later named the Burma Road, so that food and supplies could be transported to the besieged citizens of Jerusalem.

Interestingly enough, this leads back to the Armoured Corps Museum. This museum and memorial inhabits the fort that the British built and used to monitor the road to Jerusalem and surrounding roads. When the British left in 1948, the Arabs occupied it. The location and the safety of the Latrun fort enabled theArabs to shoot at vehicles trying to reach Jerusalem. The fort was not liberated by the Israelis until the '67 War (in spite of 4 tries and much loss of life in 1948) and the Burma Road (and its replacement) had to be used until 1967 to get to Jerusalem. Now the fort has been made into a memorial and museum housing many of the older tanks used in past wars. It is surrounded by quiet, safe roads and villages.

Despite the continuing loss of life in Israel this country has music and singing and Yiddish theatre and Jazz and film festivals. Immigrants are embraced and refugees are permitted to enter. Israelis know their songs and honour their singers; they sing along at every opportunity knowing the lyrics to many of the songs written from 1948 to the present. And though there is a vivid and sometimes realistic fear of a bomber or a ketousha, life carries on - just as in the ghettos of Kovno and Lodz and in Theirenstadt Jewish theatre lives and shabbat candles are lit. Bookstores are filled with hundreds of books published in a language that was modernized less than 100 years ago.

Everyone now living in Israel must know or know of a young person killed, and yet they go on with determination and conviction, courage and necessity. Israel will prevail because it has for thousands of years and it has to. And because of its beauty and modernity it is almost impossible to believe it has been constructed on the destruction of so many.

Yad Vashem

Val here.

Israel has redesigned the Yad Vashem Memorial which honours and gives name to the six million individuals that were murdered by the Nazis for their crime of being Jewish. The building is remarkable; the long cement structure looks like a huge boat. Inside one walks a long gruelling passage through this horrific period of European History to end up on a large patio overlooking the beautiful hills of Jerusalem.

Arieh and I have returned to Yad Vashem on 4 separate days. The rooms follow themes: the loss of human rights in Germany, Kristallnacht, deportations, the enforced ghettos (Lodz, Kovno, Warsaw), the transports, requests for allied response (inadequate - virtually every safehaven country in the world turned their backs on the Jewish citizens begging for safety), the gas chambers (including a huge truck that moved around and gassed prisoners with carbon monoxide poisoning), partisans, righteous gentiles, forced labour camps, forced long marches, liberation. In the penultimate room entitled "Room of Names", a huge well of tears is surrounded by all the names of the perished the museum has documented; They have listed more than three million names despite the massacres of entire families and entire villages.

There are also other memorial rooms: to the one and one half million children murdered by the Nazis and their ilk, a memorial room and candle which lists in bold type the names of the concentration camps, and a gallery of the artists of the Shoa, many whose art was teminated when they were killed at Auschwitz or on forced marches. After a Red Cross visit to one camp the artists were tortured and killed for giving art to the visitors which might show the truth about the camp.
Throughout Yad Vashem, individuals on videotape tell their stories. Partisans, hidden children, forced labour camp survivors, survivors of the Lodz ghetto where they had to deport all children under 10 and all the old people, survivors of selection - they tell their stories - so matter-of-fact until they come to the loss of a family member or a friend where their eyes well with tears.

The last room is a room of meditation - quotations are projected on the wall. One sits in this sombre room and tries to figure out why.

And yes - Jews who are sad need to eat - Yad Vashem has one of the best lunch cafeterias in Jerusalem. Moreover, there is a wonderful book store on the premises.

There is so little one can say about those millions of lives wasted, lost to the world. What makes a perpetrator, what makes a continent of indifference, a world of indifference, what makes a righteous person? Why are there so few?

The Road to Damascus

June 7/07

Val here.

Picture this. Arieh, Susan Zimmerman, (who joined us for a couple of weeks), our guide Ilan, and I are standing high in the Golan which overlooks the intersection of the borders of Jordan, Syria, and Israel. It is stunning up here. As the sun begins to set, we see the golden hills that reflect in the Yaroun? River below as well as the organized orchards of the kibbutzim south of the Sea of Galilee. We leave the viewpoint to drive down a narrow road to yet another viewpoint. Our guide assures us that we need not heed the sign "Military zone: Keep out."


Arieh bravely manoevres down the narrow road. We stop to view the spectacular view of the meeting of the three borders I already mentioned. A white SUV drives up the hill - a long discussion in Hebrew ensues about 'locked gates'. Next, a khaki military hummer presses up the hill. Three soldiers in military fatigues, guns at the ready, make no attempt to tell us of danger as they drive on. A few minutes later, a white Mazda 3 speeds up - the window opens - a man shouts at us:
"Isn't this the most awesome country you've ever seen?", closes his window, and drives on.

It gets me thinking. Yes, this is the most awesome country I've ever seen! Why? Let me count the ways. Today in the Golan, we saw borders from 1948, 1967, 1973, and 1992. The people of Israel adjust and make bloom whatever is their space. Their determination, intelligence, sense of history and of the aesthetic has made this strip of desert into an oasis. If it sounds cliched - well - there is no better way to describe it.

But always are remembered the dead who fought or were martyred in this land. The Golan inhabitants, for instance, have made sure that the importance of the Golan to Israel will not be forgotten. Sights overlooking scenes of the 6- Day War and the Yom Kippur War assure we are aware of the young men who lost their lives protecting the Golan and hence the rest of Israel from Syrian invaders.* There is a memorial to 12 young soldiers who lost their lives in 2006 in the Second War in Lebanon - killed when a missile hit their gathering point. Photographs of vibrant young men are posted whose memorial signs read: died 10-08-06. I can only think of the grieving families who will return here this year on the day of their Yahrzeits.

The Golan dwellers haven't enough voters to hold a seat in parliament, our guide tells us, so they make sure to inform visitors of the importance of the Golan to Israel. They make excellent arguments for retaining the Golan.

* Suggested reading about the Yom Kippur War: Adjusting Sights by Haim Sabato. Read that and you won't think war is so organized. You also will wonder why the mistakes of 1973 were repeated in 2006.

Wadi Rum and Petra - the Last Crusade

Val here.

From Israel, it is easy to travel to Petra, in Jordan, the beautiful ancient sight made more famous by the filming of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade as well as Lawrence of Arabia.

Let me start from the beginning. Racheli, our Israeli friend and host and tour director, found an article in a Hebrew Journal lauding a wonderful desert camp in Wadi Rum, Jordan - famous for its beauty and nearness to Petra. Stunning quiet, tracts of sand, and rock formations surround a bedouin-style camp providing reed or canvas tents for adventurous guests. Arieh contacted the author of the article who happily accepted a deposit for the desert camp. Everything is included - the pick up from the Jordanian border at Aqaba, transfers to Petra and to Wadi Rum, all meals, walks in the desert, and warm Bedouin hospitality. And yes! It was all true!

Our son Avidan, his friend Yonni Friedlander (he is ON the camel in the picture below), Arieh and I took the bus down to Eilat. The next morning we crossed the Jordan border to be greeted by our driver. We were escorted by taxi - only after a welcome coffee on our way - to Wadi Rum and the Palms Desert Camp (a.desertworld@gmail.com). It was hot, dry, and exquisite in its simple beauty. We sat in the long open Bedouin style living room drinking mint tea and coffee and playing cards (FYI anyone?) Lunch was a sumptuous meal of salads, hummous and meat. How we enjoyed the quiet day, lolling on the comfortable long couch, desert sands surrounding us, enjoying the peaceful time together playing cards, talking and laughing. At 4 o'clock the guys went for a walk with a guide - I avoided the heat and read my book. At 6:00, the boss, Houda, came and suggested he drive me up the hill to join the boys and see the sunset. From a windswept desert hill we looked down upon the soon to be opened museum about the life and filming of Lawrence of Arabia. Each night we slept in a tent made of reeds woven together, the wind (and sand) sifting in as we slept on a mattress on the floor in great comfort and peace. Avidan and Yonni each had a canvas tent and a real bed - warm, but cosy. What a remarkable stay!

The next day - off to Petra. Petra is "an archaelogical, anthropological, and geological phenomenon" (from http://www.desertecotours.com/) For me, it is an aesthetic revelation. The huge buildings dug into rose desert rock which date from the 6th Century B. C. are gorgeous.

From Wikepedia: Petra was the impressive capital of the Nabataean kingdom from around the 6th century BC. The kingdom was absorbed into the Roman Empire in AD 106 and the Romans continued to expand the city. An important center for trade and commerce, Petra continued to flourish until a catastrophic earthquake destroyed buildings and crippled vital water management systems around AD 663. After Saladin's conquest of the Middle East in 1189, Petra was abandoned and the memory of it was lost to the West.

Petra was rediscovered in the early 19th Century by an explorer and was named a World Heritage Site in 1985.

All you need to know about Petra - and wonderful photographs are available on the internet. Google Petra and you will get virtual tours and more studied and accurate information than I will ever be able to give you. What can I add? That Petra is dramatic and stunning, not only for the man-made carved buildings, but for the striated colours on the rock. You walk through sharp rock canyons that expose the break in the earth caused by an earthquake. That the horse carriages, camels, and saddled horses, though we didn't use them, add to the atmosphere: you feel like a visitor from ancient times. That it is another wonderful place along with Angkor Wat, that you should be sure to visit if time, money, and inclination lure you to visit the most dramatic ancient ruins of the world. And that Avidan and Yonni were wonderful to be with - their enjoyment and wonder enhancing ours; their recollections of the movies and television photographed here were more vivid than ours.

Jerusalem

Val here.

Yes - there is fire power in Jerusalem - but it is celebratory. The openings of new creative spaces or the celebration in honour of Jerusalem Day (can you believe it is 40 years since the Six-Day War!) are celebrated with colourful fireworks. The venue of the Jerusalem cultural festival or the jazz festival pop with fireworks in the evenings.In addition, it is now fashionable to include fireworks to celebrate bar mitzvahs and weddings. Fortunately the only gun powder the Jerusalemites are seeing recently is fireworks.

The Jerusalem buses and cafes are teeming with people! The ever-present security personnel, relaxed but ever watchful, remain at each entrance as the only reminder to the waves of bombings of the last few years. Let me describe this interesting city.

Ah - how to describe Jerusalem - the holy city. Is not like the holy city of Benares where pilgrims dunk themselves in the holy waters of the Ganges and give alms to honour the near nude ash-covered sadhus that line the ghats. No - Jerusalem is definitely not at all like that. Religious pilgrims come here in dignity and walk in wonder as they admire the stone buildings and the ancient parts of the city unearthed by recent archaeological digs. In Jerusalem the docent will be teary-eyed as she reads the scriptures of the Dead Sea scrolls. She will infuse indignation and wonder at the horrors as she leads her groups through Yad Vashem (the museum of the Shoah or Holocaust - see my later posting for more detail).

We (Biker Susan Zimmerman, I and Arieh) went without shoulder covering to the Kotel (the western wall of the 2500-year old Temple of Solomon - a most holy Jewish sight) and a beautiful Ethiopian Israeli guard comes up to offer a shawl intoning in perfect English with an air of practicality "We're happy to do this. That's what we're here for". We donned our shawls to walk to the wall and touch the ancient stone wall stuffed with tiny pieces of papers with wishes and prayers for Hashem.


Jerusalem - at once practical, dignified, modern, and yet holy. The deep respect for other religions and for the intellect is evident at the Holy Sepulchre - a Greek Orthodox Church from where Jesus is said to have been resurrected. Jewish and Christians alike come to admire the church and wonder at the power of history. Several groups of Israeli soldiers visit the sight with their guide. The guides describe the Christian tradition with respect and accuracy. We see groups of Israeli soldiers and school children touring many important sights - Jewish and Christian - learning about the history and country they represent and fight for. Every day we see two or three buses with the "Taglit" sign. These are young adults from North America on birthright enjoying the country, each other, the guides, and the Israeli soldiers that join them on their 10-day tour of Israel.

George, our friend the Armenian ceramicist (you've seen our wonderful ceramic tables built by Arieh) took us on a tour of the Armenian quarter including the Armenian Church, Monastery, and School. This is another quarter of the old city of Jerusalem where people live, run their businesses and thrive. Old Jerusalem is open for touring and for business. Only the Mosques are not available for visit by non-Moslems - in my view unfortunately. Our welcome into a Mosque in Dubai recently, and to a Mosque in Tunis years ago was both interesting and a strong connector to that religious community. Although tours go into the temple mount, non-Moslem tourists are not permitted to enter the Mosques. It seems to me that a more open attitude to visitors might improve the public relations of the Moslem community in this part of the world. Oh well.

Jerusalem and Israel have so much more than holy sights, excavations, and museums. It is a vibrant cultural centre. Most nights we've been to concerts - from gorgeous free classical music at the Brigham Young Centre which overlooks the city - to Yehudit Ravitz (a popular Israeli chanteuse) on Kibbutz Na'an, to a students' dance and theatre performance at a college in Tel Aviv. We also heard our friend's son, Nadav Amir-Himel (remember that name!) play a Mozart Piano Concerto brilliantly at the Music Department of Tel Aviv University. We attended an English language play, The Value of Names, at the English language theatre here. They put on 4 or 5 plays a season. Last week was the Jerusalem Festival, this week a theatre and a jazz festival.

Our favorite locale for concerts is the Institute for Middle East Studies at the gorgeous Brigham Young building at the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus. Behind the performers, the city of Jerusalem is part of the event. The vibrant young pianist Yaron Kohlberg - remember his name- performed with a cellist and a bass in front of the backdrop of the city. A concert of Israeli folk groups - our Holy Blossom Singers would have loved it - also performed here. What a joy to listen to magnificent music as the sun sets over Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is at once modern and ancient. A new modern Israeli city has been built on the city outside the walls of the old city. Much has changed in this city since I was here in 1991. It is well serviced with roads, bridges, highways, and public transport, has many hotels and restaurants, juice spots and hummous and falafel joints, and, of course, coffee houses with at least as many choices as North America. The shops are modern and yet there is the colourful Mekhane Yehuda - a market with the best fruit, vegetables, spices, and pastries in all of Israel.

The people have been polite (excluding the tourist bureau and the post office) and urbane. They don't greet you, but when you ask a question they happily give you information in Hebrew or broken English as required. Oh! And so clean! We don't seem to have to do a footwash several times a day as we've been doing in other countries. Here in Jerusalem our feet are clean no matter how much walking we do in our battered travel-worn Mephisto sandals. And the sense of humour! How easy to get a wisecrack, a wry answer, a laugh, from these people, my people.

Having a Servant - India continued

Val here:

Arieh and I paid the Kumar brothers tourist agents of Delhi to use their car and pay a driver to take us on a 15-day tour of Rajasthan in western India. For those planning a visit - we paid about $30 (US) a day for car and driver. Sharjee, as he told us to call him, became our keeper and protector as well as our driver. Along with driving came warnings, "Do not take the flower from anyone near the ghats of Pushkar!" "Don't talk to anyone on your way - they're out to cheat you!"

Another service Sharjee provided was hotel searchings "I'm knowing where older people like you wish to stay - you don't want to be staying with young people - all they do is smoke marajuana and make noise." He assured us that the hotels he recommended were excellent, " be looking at the decoration - everyone likes that - there is no place like this hotel anywhere in the city. You'll be very comfortable here". And he was usually right.

But Sharjee had his own agenda. "Please madam (that's me!) just give me 20 minutes of your time. I know this shop is far too expensive Madam but you only have to stay for 20 minutes." I obliged him once - on entry no less than 6 salesmen descended the elegant winding staircase to regale me with the superiority of their inlaid marble table tops, $100 table cloths, carpets, wooden carved furniture, etc. I barely got out of there except that it was 8:00 pm and the salesmen, just a little more than making a sale, wanted to go home. During this whole episode, Arieh peacefully perched on a chair and suggested they "show Madame" while he read his book.

Sharjee did manage to get us lower rates at certain hotels and introduced us the the "truck shop" version of stops in India where the masala chai is the best in the world; though the food is not always as appetizing. The meals, often rice and dahl or palak paneer, are accompanied by as many fresh chapattis as you can eat. One needn't eat until the next day: the offerings are filling and plentiful. And there were always interesting people who wanted to "talk" with you or have their picture taken.

The best hotel that Sharjee introduced us to was the one near Pushkar. The gorgeous setting entranced us even more than the mystic ghats of the totally vegan, spiritual town of Pushkar. Our hotel room overlooked rosebushes - rows and rows of them. Each evening, two women in colourful sarees collected the rose petals to sell to people going to temple. The ladies never stopped talking as they plucked, except to offer me a rose and stem in welcome. In the back of our hotel room was a balcony overlooking a row of mango and mangrove trees - a great host for local birds - and then a fence on the other side of which was a chrysanthemum farm. Could one want a better setting! He also selected the hotel in Ranakpur for us - which was lovely with its pool and garden setting despite a rather difficult and inconsistent manager.

Sharjee's worst selection was Newton Manor in Jodpur. The Manor is owned by a proudly Christian host who insists there is no other place like it in all of India! He is certainly right about that! Memorabilia at its best consists of antique lamps, grungy antique carpets and a 1947 Vauxhaul parked in the carport. At its worst - a stuffed tiger, several stuffed antelope and buffalo heads - and a poor little stuffed head of a cat-like civet which with raised ears watched us eat dinner and breakfast. Fortunately dinner and breakfast were excellent and better yet, we met two young women travelling together: Australian Celeste and British Natalie. When Celeste lived in England she met Natalie and now that she's returned to live in Australia the two women reunite each year at some remarkable place to explore the area and enjoy each other's cojmpany - this year it is Rajasthan, India. We had great talks during our meals together and hope that some way, someday we'll get to visit again with one or both of these interesting women.

Unable to face another night at the Manor, we moved to a Haveli Hotel (much to Sharjee's chagrin) and kvelled in a huge gorgeous room in a haveli stye hotel with walkways all round - the style the Maharajahs favoured. It is rather like the colonial style house in the south of the United States with the huge veranda, except that rather than facing outside, the varanda is inside, facing a large airy courtyard.

Sharjee was most pleasant unless he got into his "medicine" (whiskey) in the evening and groused about our choices in hotels which he felt were inferior to his choices. To be fair, the management of our hotels were often rude to the drivers (so he told us) or gave them terrible accomodation. It can't be easy to see your "master and madam" move into huge air-conditioned rooms with use of a pool while you stay in a stuffy windowless room with restricted access to the hotel.

It is a quandary - at least for me. Sharjee is determined to do his "duty" to drive and protect us. We are doing are best to be good masters - to pay and direct him. As I see it, it is an awkward relationship - but a common one in India.

Two books that describe the dilemma of the master/servant relationship in India rather well:

Holy Cow by Sarah Macdonald and Three Stories by Amit Chaudhuri

The picture below is the menu at one of the MacDonalds in New Delhi. There is chicken but no beef on this menu
.

India's Nature Parks/ New Friends

Val here:

Keoladeo Ghana National Park near Baratpur, Rajasthan

We arrived in the afternoon light of Bharatpur and settled in the Birder's Inn. An American family (we have met very few Americans anywhere we've been!) travelling with four daughters 12 through 26 chatted to us about their trip so far and had many questions for us. We felt like such experienced travellers answering questions like "How do you get around? "Where do you put your valuables" "How do you find hotels", etc.

Outside the hotel is one bicycle rickshaw with a willing turbaned driver. We are told that only hikers, bicycles, or rickshaws are allowed into the park. Mann Singh of rickshaw #5 assures us that he is a wonderful guide - and indeed he is!

Perched on our rickshaw we went into the Bird Sanctuary expecting no vehicular traffic as we were promised -but, as always in India, there are loopholes, compromises, and individualists (notice I did not use the word cheaters). Automobiles and small trucks are permitted to drive to service the hotel which is about 800 metres from the gate. Beyond that, there were no motorized vehicles. Did I also mention the cows are let loose to graze in this national sanctuary?


In any case, our rickshaw took us to a little shop where I bought my invaluable Guide to the Birds of Northern India. Thus armed, we cycled on as Man Singh pointed out two types of owls, a green beeater, numerous lapwings, large and medium egrets, herons, and water birds of all sizes. Other birds we saw included black drongos, Indian robins, and lots of parakeets. There were also several antelope, one very friendly and tame who liked to lick the salt off our sweaty arms as

well as several spotted deer. As dusk descended we saw evening storks and pelicans and rare cranes.


Man Singh made certain that before we left we went to the small temple far into the park. It is necessary to honour this beautiful space and to pray for good luck and good health. In all we spent 3 hours in this peaceful sanctuary admiring the setting and the wildlife. We returned at dusk after seeing the evening storks, a rare crane, and pelicans reflected in the lake water. Keoladeo Ghana Park was certainly a highlight of our visit to India.

Rathambhore National Park

Early in the morning (6 a.m.) Arieh and I joined one Spanish couple and one French couple to view the tigers of this National Park in eastern Rajasthan. We bounced across rocky, treed terrain in our jeep, cameras (quite an array thanks to our travel companions) and binoculars at the ready. First, we saw a group of antelope which look like large deer with lovely striped ears, then some spotted deer, a lone bluebull in the clearing (a large elk-like creature who wanders all alone eating leaves and grass). Another vegetarian in a country of vegetarians.


Enough excitement! We settled down to park under some trees with some other tourist jeeps near a hill - and - if you scrunched your eyes, you could make out the profile of a tiger. Believe me - the camouflage of a tiger's stripes is very effective (though not effective enough to save it from becoming endangered by poachers - including in India). So - we scrunched our eyes, focused our telelenses or binoculars and determined that yes, there were two tigers (though our guide insisted there were three) - large and lovely animals up on the craggy hill just above us. We waited about 40 minutes for movement. In that time we got a yawn and a paw lick viewed through thick grasses - and then the tigers resumed their immobile rest. The jeeps moved away a few metres in the hope that Mrs. Tiger and her cubs would walk in front of us across a path she sometimes chose. No such luck.

But all was not lost - at least for me. On our return trip the guide pointed out the beautiful Indian Kingfisher perched over a stream, a crimson parakeet, and a stunningly green beeater.

Ranakpur

Our third sanctuary was near the town of Ranakpur. All these parks are in Rajasthan, southwest of Delhi. First, we went with some new found American friends to see some interesting wildlife on our walk to the nearby lake. Here we saw a lazy crocodile on its shore as well as many (brave?) shorebirds. Nontheless we battled the powers that be to go to the local national park: it's too wet, too early, the jeep isn't available, etc. Off we went despite the excuses and there was little new to see - some antelope, a bluebull a long-eared hare loping over the dry, rocky terrain (apparently their long ears cool them in the dry, desert habitat). We went through some villages - saw women and girls in replendent colours working on the farms, carrying firewood and water on their heads. The young boys, we could only assume, were at school, the men - not sure!

The best part of the park was the top of a 200 stair climb where we could look over the cultivated, hilly landscape to the mountains and watch the parakeets cavort at eye level. Then - to our lovely hotel.

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We met a lovely couple in our comfortable hotel in Ranakpur. They were sitting by us having dinner - outgoing Arieh invites them to join us. What a lovely evening we had with them. Charmi and Tushar are a young couple who are from Mumbai, but live in Dubai. He works in the diamond industry, she in human resources. We spent the next morning with them - they were soon to be off to visit family in Mumbai - and went to a gorgeous Jain temple near Ranakpur. This 14th Century stone temple was large and gorgeous - well, words can't desribe its beauty, you'll have to go there! What was extra special is that Charmi is a Jain and described the ceremonies with such enthusiasm. She has such appreciation for her religion as well as Hinduism, her husband's religion. Thanks to Charmi and Tushar, the experience of visiting the Jain temple was much enhanced. We were invited to visit them in Dubai - and, if you'll read later - we did indeed go to Dubai to visit them and share their enthusiasm for their adopted city.

Another interesting couple we met were Cindy and Harry Recht from Newport Beach, California. We met them in Ranakpur and later in Jodpur and so very much enjoyed hearing of their past and present journeys.

Quotes on India

Val here.
India is wonderfully described in two sections of Sarah MacDonald's insightful, often funny book on India entitled Holy Cow! (Bantam Books 2002) It is difficult to sum up India better than she does.
As follows:

It's a bizarre scene - full of foreigners attempting to figure out India. I'm beginning to think it's pointless to try. India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. (p.123)

I feel guilty for not giving these women money and guilty for knowing it wouldn't be enough. I feel guilty for being in a position where I'm privileged enough to be a giver rather than a taker and I feel guilty for wanting more than I have and taking what I do have for granted. At times I feel angry at the injustice. But most of all I feel confused and confronted. Why was I born in my safe, secure, sunny Sydney sanctuary and not in Kesroli? India accepts that I deserved it, but I can't. (p. 127,128)

Oman--Hot as Hell

May 3, 2007
Muscat, Oman

Arieh here. Upon arriving at the Muscat bus station (a 5-hour bus ride from Dubai) I did a good deed and was rewarded twofold almost immediately! The good deed? I helped a lady (Fatma) remove her luggage from the storage under the bus (while the driver sat on his butt waiting). The first reward? The lady's son-in-law (Zayid) came to meet her, she told him of my good deed and he then offered to help Val and I find a hotel, which we accepted. We eventually found something and all turned out well. The second reward? A good joke about Oman told to us by Zayid, an Omani himself. "Oman has two seasons", he says, "Summer and Hell. Welcome to the beginning of Hell."

So began our shortened visit to Oman. I say "shortened" because we detoured to Dubai before we went to Oman. Why? Because we met a very nice Indian couple in Ranakpur, India who are working in Dubai. They convinced us Dubai would be worth a look and, with the cooperation of Air India, we re-routed ourselves to Dubai from Delhi. And so we spent 3 days in Dubai, the commercial capital of the United Arab Emirates (U.A.E.).

Dubai is a fairly "green" city. Whomever said "oil and water don't mix" got it wrong. If one has enough oil and not enough fresh water (as is the case in the UAE and Oman), the solution is quite simple. Spend the oil revenues to make fresh water through desalinization plants. And that's what happens in Dubai and Muscat. Dubai is surrounded by desert, has about 5 million people and uses 75 cubic metres of water. Only 1/4 of that amount is fresh well water; the remainder is from the desalinization plants. It is used to keep Dubai looking green, flowery and looking like a well-watered city.

The on-going building in Dubai is tremendous. 5-6 story apartment blocks for living, taller office buildings, even taller hotels, and gorgeous villas. Easy to build highways here--just flatten and compact the sand; no need to blast through any mountains or cut down trees. Many of the buildings incorporate a dhow sail as the motif, the dhow being the local fishing boat. Many of you may have seen pictures of the huge sail-like twin tower hotel being erected in the middle of the sea. And don't forget that Dubai is home to an indoor ski-hill.

Dubai is a magnet for foreign workers, mostly from India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka. Of the 5 million residents, 4 million are foreign workers and 1 million are citizens of the UAE. Many of the FW are in the service and support and construction industries, while many, many others are in IT and banking. And here is an interesting fact for those who are uneasy about Jews and our ability to obtain immediate citizenship in Israel. #1: Anyone can become Jewish, move to Israel and become a citizen of Israel. #2: Non-Jews are and can become full citizens of Israel, while remaining non-Jewish. For non-Jewish immigrants it may take a few years to become a citizen of Israel, but it eventually happens. The UAE has a different system. A foreign worker can NEVER becomes a citizen of the UAE. The children of a foreign worker born in the UAE are not citizens of the UAE and cannot become citizens of the UAE. Oman has a very similar system. In fact, we were told that an Omani marrying a non-Omani (without special permission from the Sultan) is in danger of losing his passport and being sent to jail. So don't forget these little facts when defending Israel's right to exist as a Jewish state and it's citizenship system, thank you very much.

Oman (Muscat) seems to be very different in many ways from Dubai. For starters, the ratio of Omanis to foreign workers is 4:1, not 1:4 like in Dubai. (Total population of Oman is about 2.5 million) The architecture is mandated to fit in with the environment (like the stone-facing in Jerusalem) and is mujch more pleasing to the eyes. White or beige-coloured low rise residential buildings; not the modern style structures of Dubai. Oman also is a lot bigger than the UAE and I believe it has a tremendous range of physical landscapes from treeless mountains in the north to tree-covered mountains in the south to a very interesting shoreline on the east to a vast desert on the west. In both cases we only met friendly people, only observed polite, reasonable drivers and felt welcome as a guest in both countries.

Oman has been a relatively wealthy country for a couple of centuries or more. Frankincense (which is located in the south in great quantities) was a big commodity and worth more than gold at one time. The British has an equal-nation trading relationship with Oman in the heyday of Imperialism. Now the wealth is oil and the current Sultan is quite enlightened and much of the money is spent on infrastructure and citizens. One of the benefits of Omani citizenship is 700 square meters of free land to build a house. If you cannot afford to build a house the Sultan will give you a pretty nice-looking apartment instead. Citzens do not pay for water, electricity, medical care or income taxes. Oman seems to be a good place to live, especially if you are a citizen.






We did manage to have some fun in Dubai and Oman as well as some interesting cultural touring. The snorkelling was pretty good near Muscat, the dune bashing was fun (although the driver got stuck) and the great mosque in Dubai was very impressive. Non-Muslims are allowed in on certain days and we went for a guided tour. There was also interesting names for one of the bakeries we came across.

India - a way of life

April 26, 2006

Val here.

India is, as ever, a land of contrasts. Perhaps Mumbai or Kolkata have changed - and the "growing middle class" the media talks of is evident, but in our experience of India, we still see poor people and more poor people. There are lovely neighbourhoods in Delhi - huge areas in the outskirst of the city are covered with newly built or under construction luxury condos. There are also some good restaurants where some Indians and even more tourist go - but our primary impression is that little has changed in India since we were here 24 years ago except for occasional internet cafes which have been included among he tiny Indian shops that line the streets.

The bazaars here are extraordinary for their variety and colour. Shoemakers, metal workers and motorcycle mechanics work among sari shops and lassi /chai shops . Fruit wallahs sell mangos among the wandering cows and the motorcycle shoppers. Men with bright turbans mingle with women in resplendent saris - in parts of Rajasthan we found women in red and yellow saris with huge rings in their noses and tens of white bangles decorating their arms. A few Muslim women in black with faces covered walk by to shop. There are tuk-tuks, motorcycles, mangy doge, cows, hawkers, young lads that will be happy to take you to the nearest handicraft shop and receive commision for their efforts. The vegetarian, non-alcohol tradition continues in India though you can find meat and alcohol without looking too hard.

And the beggars - little dirty kids usually with the requisite dirty baby carried in arms. Old ladies, the occasional men with no legs, the blind man with his child leading him basket for alms in hand. In Pushkar we even saw the cobra and his charmer. At the Raj's memorial of Jodpur, a young dancer with a terrible singing voice and worse dancing talent collected rupees as her brother with a squeaky primitive stringed instrument played. The picture below is of a fellow making a living by ironing the washing he takes in. The iron is heated by charcoals, heavy and very effective.

Oh yes, and the the traffic! Every kind of transport is used as you travel the roads of Rajasthan: camels, donkeys, ponies, horses, water buffaloes, jeeps, trucks, tractors with huge loads, motorcycles, tuktuks, rickshaws, the Indian made Ambassador car, tourist and local buses , SUVs - it is quite something to see all these modes of transport circulate around each other, they race and honk as they avoid the cows , water buffalos, goats and monkeys that wander the stree

India is truly an assault. It is as intense an experience of travel as anywhere can be. Fascinating and disturbing, beautiful and ugly all at the same time.

More India--by Arieh

Delhi, India
April 23, 2007

Arieh here. We are leaving India this PM and I am of mixed emotions. It has been difficutlt, challenging, and stressful at times. On the other hand, all these difficulties, challenges, and stresses were the events that makes this country so fascinating. The peculiar "yes" movement of the head that almost looks like "No" (and I have to keep reminding myself of this difference); the constant verbal answer of "Yes" to a question or problem that requires a different response; the lack of problem-solving skills that we take for granted--all these will be "cute" challenges once we are away from here.

Our last 24 hours in Delhi have been at a Guest House, a B & B in a fairly quiet up-scale neighbourhood. A very different Delhi than the Main Bazaar tourist street we have stayed on at the beginning and prior to moving to this quiet neighbourhood. The differences are startling, although not unexpected. We have written of the noise, the dust, the heat, the crush of people, the cows (and their poop), the smells and the poorest of the poor in the Main Bazaar (picture).

Hear in south Delhi the street is quiet, it is essentially empty at 6AM (and the rest of the day) and it is somewhat cool (because their is more space for air to flow in this area) in the morning as I sit on the veranda and write. (picture).

Sitting here I have again witnessed a phenomena I have read about--the constant cleaning of everything. There is dust everywhere here and constant and it needs to be constantly moved away. This morning I watched the "car wallahs" (the car men) prepare the cars on the street. The uncovered cars are swept and dry-wiped clean. The covered cars are uncovered, wiped lightly and touched up with a pail of water. As well, the rails of the balcony will be wiped off during the day (they need it); the floors will be wet-wiped (but not really clean, as my bare feet will attest); the carpets will be whipped and beaten; the parks in the neighbourhood (and they exist here) will be swept (not raked); and the streets will be swept by people, not machines. And it will all be repeated tomorrow and the next day. That's what happens in this country of a BILLION people in the dry season where everyone hustles for a living.

Even the commercial/shopping area near here is different. Real shops (not stalls or holes-in-walls), sidewalks one can almost walk on most of the time, not many beggars, no cows, and no more than one or two "hellos" as we walk along. Most of the customers in this area are non-foreigners and they are not beckoned by every store owner to enter every store. I would estimate that less than 20% of the Indians live in neighbourhoods like this and that estimate is probably way too high.

So, just before I tell you about our last evening in Delhi I wanted to show you some pictures of how wheat or other kinds of grains are transported in Rajisthan. These "bags" are filled up as much as possible and then loaded on to a camel or tractor-pulled wagon and taken to market. As you can see they are very full and take up a lot of room. The truck passing the tractor is a good example of how passing is done. Note the car immediately behind the truck. The car is NOT waiting for anyone else and will pass right behind the truck.

And to top off our last evening in Delhi we went out for a sumptuous dinner with two other guests at our guest house, a father and son team from Brazil travelling in India and Nepal for 3 weeks. They were so enthusiastic about South America that we might just show up on their doorstep one day during this trip!! If we don't show up I am sure they would host all or any of our friends instead.

India

Yes we did get to Agra and the Taj Mahal. It is beautiful and this is only one picture.
















April 16, 2007
Pushkar, Rajisthan, India

Arieh here. I am sitting on our hotel's roof-top restaurant here in Pushkar, a small village of about 14,000 people in te state of Rajisthan. You've heard of Rajisthan--state of Maharajas, the blue city of Jodphur, and the Great Thar Desert where India's "atomic device" was tested in 1974. Pushkar, we are told by a very nice young store owner who speaks some Hebrew, has 40% Israeli tourists, 30% French and the rest from elsewhere. It also swells to about 200,000 people in November fro the annual Camel fair.

The view here is fantastic. The restaurant (and our room) overlook a beautiful large commercial rose garden backing on to more cultivated fields and then a range of low mountains in the not-too-distant background.

In the late afternoon we sit on the veranda watching two women pick the rose petals that are then sold outside the temples to be used in offerings to the one-of-more-than 300 million dieties here in India. The two women (picture?) talk non-stop to each other and we can hear every word--it is that quiet.





This peacefulness is in STARK contrast to New Delhi (an any other Indian city). And it is only now (10 days after arriving) that I am capable of writing. India is very chaotic and, to quote Val, "an assualt on one's senses at all times". We were both here 24 years ago--mostly in the south and in the month of March. Different locations, smaller population centres, a little cooler, less people in the whole country, we had not spent 4 months travelling in Asia then, and we were much younger. That trip did not help me (or us) in dealing with New Delhi.

The stuggle is constant here for a visitor (and non-residents). Heat and dust; cows wandering along the streets, pooping anywhere and everywhere; croweded streets; no sidewalks; untold numbers of vehicles; half-limbed beggars (some on purpose); mothers with babes-in-arms begging; hawkers selling everything and anything; heat and dust; crowds of people; "spiritual" people trying to make a buck; no regard for anyone else; heat and dust; and loud noises everywhere. Did I mention "heat and dust"? In short, both of us were asking each other why we came to India at all.



Not to fear. We have found what we need. We are moving around Rajisthan with a car and driver at our beck and call for 2 weeks. This may sound decadent, but it is also somewhat of a struggle--more than one would expect or want. The roads are pretty bad and we need to deal with the driver who is trying to make a living. We were planning to travel to the west part of Rajisthan (near the Great Thar Desert) but have canned that idea as temperatures are in the mid-40s (C.) and the town of Jessalmeer is about 6 hours drive from our western-most point of Jodphur. We have also eliminated anymore large cities in order to focus on nature reserves and small towns until our return to New Delhi on April 23rd.

Val can tell you about the National Parks, the birds and the tigers. I will tell you about PPP and camel riding. Some of you may think that PPP stands for "Post-Pesach Party" in reference to our "Placenta Planting Party" of 1989 (Friends of Eitan and Avidan--ask them). Wrong. PPP stand for "piles of Poop Patties". I am not referring to the piles of poop on all streets here everywhere in India nor to the piles of poop that one hears from someone trying to sell us something. No, I am referring to actual "PPP" that are dried, stored and used as fuel. The pictures here show piles of PP that are quite common throughout India and are a major source of cooking fuel. They are created by hand. Need I say more?







CAMEL RIDING

Instead of going at 5 PM yesterday, I did somthing smarter. I went at 6 AM this morning and avoided the heat. Two hours and that should do me for a long time. It was nice and cool, quiet in the village and very quiet outside in the adjoining countryside (other than one instrument player who ruined the tranquility for 5 minutes). The light was good for photos. The ride was not uncomfortable and it was a pleasant change to be riding 3 metres above ground. Not quite a "bird's-eye view", but definitely different than my usually 168 cm. However, I cannot quite see why some people want to do this sort of thing for 4 days and nights out near Jasselmer in the desert in the scorching heat. This shadow picture here is actually me on the top of my camel. If you really want to see what it is like from a camel, watch the movie that I have not YET put on the site!