John the Baptist Was Here & The Day I Was Born

It's been so long since I've written, and much has happened--all of it, unforgettable; some of it, regrettably so.  I've finally got my migraines to go quiet and have been headache free for almost two weeks.  How glorious things are when seen through eyes that don't ache!
I was reading in Luke a few weeks ago and was struck anew by the nearness of the Bible here.  Luke 1:39 says:

 "At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, 

where she entered Zechariah's home and greeted Elizabeth.  ...  

Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned home."

This "town in the hill country of Judea" is called Tzuba.  And it is from here that I write.  

A Sunburst above Tzuba 

 This has washed over me several times while I've been here, most profoundly while wandering in the hills of Tzuba.  On one such wander on June 30th, some of our fellow students at our language center decided to hike about and visit a nearby archaeologic site that some archaeologists were excavating.  (This has become commonplace to me.  My first time seeing a "dig" I was beyond excited and felt it was all very romantic, and now I walk past them, barely seeing.)   Our friend, Blaine, led the way and off we went.  He took us to the site about 5 minutes walk from us and we were suddenly in the middle of a well-ordered wine press. The men and women would walk down stone steps into a vat, and then begin crushing until the juice of the grapes (the talesh) would run through drains into other vats where they would be bundled up and then allowed to ferment.

Blaine, center in red shirt, and
the rest of our little group from school

Steps down into a wine press

They had built some seats into the side of a cliff where they could take a rest between squashing.  Beau and I, as ever, displayed great restraint here as I pretended the seat was a toilet.  Some of us decided to keep on wandering and we did so.  It was beautiful evening and we were all caught up in the romance of imagining John the Baptist touching this particular tree; resting on this rock here; or seeing the same view we were taking in.  It was a great, relaxing time.  Tzuba is beautiful in an unconventional way, and I always feel that's the best kind of beauty.  At any rate, it's usually the most memorable.

Birthday Flower Surprise from my mom and dad

2 Jul Sat - My Israeli birthday arrived!  Hooray!  I have been looking forward to celebrating a milestone in Israel and finally it was upon me.  I woke up excited for the day and then the excitement slowly drained away as I realized my perfect husband meant it when he said he didn't have anything planned.  We spent the whole day inside; he studying on the terrace, and I reading in my room.  Eventually I wandered out to him and asked if I could plan something for that evening, perhaps stay the night in Jerusalem?  (We had already ruled out going to Mt. Carmel at this time because it was too expensive.)  One of the things I had on my list of "things to do in Israel" was to find some really delicious kosher Italian food.  So I began to plan my birthday evening in the city I loved eating the food that is the tastiest at a fun hotel.  I thought I had accomplished all these things and so we got dressed up, packed a bag, and headed to reception to order a taxi to our hotel.  (I have to say, we were feeling very proud of ourselves and very expensive.  We were not the cheap, hiking shoe-wearing couple we usually were; we were The McCarthys who had reservations.)  

Immediately, our little bubble of great expectations popped, as reception was afraid to get a taxi to the area of our hotel because the week before had seen 2 lynchings of Israeli taxi drivers to that area.  We quickly said that perhaps we should not be going to such an area either, to which they responded that it was perfectly safe.  (This is perhaps the best way to describe the situation in parts of Jerusalem.  It is absolutely dangerous; You will be fine.)  We finally got a taxi to agree to take us to our hotel, and off we went.  I think it is a bad sign if one's taxi driver does not know where he is going.  Presumably, this is  the main gist of the job.  However, our taxi driver had skipped this part of training and was content to just qualify at the driving part of the job.  We finally got him to our hotel and were dropped off.  We were back to our hopeful selves.  The flowers in my hair were a little wilted but all in all, we were in top form.  

Shame on you, Addar.

We walked into the Addar Hotel and Suites and I loved it.  It was an Arabic hotel and the interior was done up in the way you'd stereotypically expect a Sultan's palace to be: good, shabby furniture in traditional Arabic style; many different colors all adding up to a sense of luxury; and a startling chandelier of colored glass hanging from a moroccan-styled tile ceiling.  I marched up to the desk and said we were checking in.  The attendant had the quietest voice I've ever heard.  It could be that it was so quiet because everyone is so loud in Israel, but I genuinely think his voice was in a frequency level reserved for the non-human.  His English was okay, our Arabic is horrible, and for some reason, when I am trying to communicate to someone who doesn't understand, I start speaking beginner's French.  Between the 3 languages, remarkably little was understood.  Suddenly he was explaining that there were no rooms left, so he was sending us to an equivalent hotel and the taxi was coming and we would not have to pay for that and we were to leave now and get in the taxi.  We voiced opposition, but in the end suspected he was no longer speaking, but just moving his lips, and so we got in the cab to go to the other hotel.  

     As soon as we pulled up, we knew this was a mistake.  The hotel was all kinds of shabby and not in a chic way.  I am a (surprisingly) good sport but I was wary of this place.  To begin with, it was obviously not just an Arabic hotel, but a Muslim one, and there were no women to be seen.  Conversation stopped when we entered the hotel.  We were taken to a room that was all kinds of sadness complete with Israeli twin beds.  We decided we were going back to Addar and having a proper argument over this.  Finally, we got a cab, told him he'd be paid by the Addar and so to charge as much as he wished, and back we went.  

     Beau was fantastic here.  He was patient but extremely authoritative.  He spoke clearly in a low voice almost without a trace of his slow Missouri drawl.  I saw we were being the strongest versions of ourselves and so I decided to be the hysterical over-reacting version of me.  Although not helpful, it was the strongest part of me at that moment.  I shook my head dramatically; I spoke my pigeon French with tears in my eyes; I searched the lobby looking at invisible allies and gesticulating hopelessness; finally, I took to a brave silence with a faraway look on my face of "I will suffer nobly all that this world holds." Sort of my "Betrayed Princess Diana" face.  Fortunately, one of us was still actually speaking and so Beau finally got the attendant to agree to refund us...in theory.  When the attendant further explained he did not know to do this in real life, we were finished.  We demanded he pay for our taxi back to Tzuba so we could just go home and sleep.  It was almost 10pm and we were giving up after 2 hours of utterly wasted time.  The attendant said this was impossible.  We ended our time with him and walked outside.  

Our Hero.

On the other side of the street was the famous 5-star hotel The American Colony.  I had read about this hotel and heard their customer-service was unparalleled.  I suggested we go to their concierge and ask for their help to book another hotel.  We walked over there and entered their compound.  I was walking as if I was on my own Via Dolorosa ("Path of Sorrow") and Beau was starting to feel like he needed to remind me that all that had happened so far was that we couldn't get a hotel.  I responded that we couldn't get a hotel because we were cheated.  This kind of injustice was dramatic and I was up for it.  We walked into this stunning hotel which had the quiet luxury of someone who has been wealthy all his life and therefore has no need to flaunt it; it's merely his custom.  I sank into a chair in the reception as my legs would no longer hold me and the weight of my disappointment.  My flowers were thoroughly droopy now and I added to this effect by resting my chin in my hand, like the only child not invited to the birthday party.  

     The concierge swept us up in his pure capableness and next thing we knew Beau was renting a room for a ridiculously low price.  I found a friend to share my sorrows to in the lobby named Mary Ann, who had just retired and was anticipating the vacation of a lifetime at the famous American Colony Hotel.  Her chipper attitude and sympathetic motherly utterances of comfort had their effect and I couldn't hold onto my wounded persona any longer.  We chatted about what to see, where to eat, and which shops to buy in.  We talked about where we had visited, where we were from, and our families.  I was completely restored to myself.  Further restoration came when the concierge brought out champagne for everyone in the reception area in honor of my birthday.  I clinked my glass to the sounds of many "mazel tovs" and I was a happy traveler again.  The concierge had also arranged for a room upgrade to one with a private terrace.  It was so wonderful.  He understood from Beau my desire for an Israeli-Italian restaurant, so he booked a reservation at a restaurant that was too cool for us and called for a taxi.  All our troubles were over!  We were saved!  We had the most amazing sweet potato ravioli and chestnut mushroom gnocchi I've ever eaten paired with a perfectly chilled Coke. 

Sweet Potato Ravioli at Colony Restaurant

Chestnut Mushroom Gnocchi at Colony 

Colony 

The entrance to The American Colony Hotel

 Life was good.  We went back to our hotel and sank into the most luxurious bed I've ever slept in.  We watched a movie in English on a premium channel and fell asleep, knowing this was the nicest hotel we would ever stay in.  And that was the end of my birthday.  Dramatic, Emotional, Luxurious, Stylish, with a touch of Snobbery.  Exactly my idea of a great birthday.