I woke up tired and sore on the morning following my bike ride, but I was ready to jump in a car as soon as possible, so that I had the freedom to explore at my own pace. That morning at Avis, I ran into Julio, whom I hadn't seen since the West Bank, also renting a vehicle. We briefly discussed rolling together, but it was soon apparent that we wanted to see different things. I was presented with a Nissan Micra, a tiny little tin can of a car that looks like the offspring of a Mini and a VW bug. Happy to hit the highway, I made a beeline for the Mediterranean coast to see the ruins of Akko (Acre) and Caesarea. The old fortress of Akko is set along a stunning spot of seashore and is steeped in centuries of history. An important port in antiquity, it was the place in Greek mythology where Hercules came to heal his wounds. Alexander the Great built a mint in Akko…the Ptolemaic Egyptians took over and lost it to the Syrians, who in turn lost it to the Romans, who in turn lost it to the Arabs, who in turn lost it to the Crusaders, who in turn lost it to the Arabs again. Napoleon tried to capture it (but failed), the British took it from the Ottomans, and then handed it over to the Zionists. There are some cool Crusader-era tunnels there, but otherwise, it is really only worth spending a couple of hours in. Another interesting tidbit...Bahaullah, the founder of the Baha’i faith, was imprisoned by the Ottomans as a heretic and died there soon after.
Speaking of the Baha’i, my trip down the coast to Caesarea involved driving through the modern port city of Haifa, where the Baha’i world headquarters is located. Although I was tempted to make a visit (especially after visiting the temples in both India and America) I decided to just pass through and observe the temple sitting atop Mt. Carmel from afar, so that I could take my time in Caesarea. As far as I’m concerned, I feel like it was a good decision.
The remains of Caesarea represent the largest Roman ruins I’ve seen so far, and probably will see on this trip. Complete with aqueducts to channel fresh water from the interior, the port built by the tyrannical Herod the Great (and named in tribute of his Roman patron) is an incredible feat of engineering, for any day and age. Herod’s goal for Caesarea was to build the greatest city on Earth, and in his day, it surely must have been a contender for that title. Like most stuff in Israel, the history is sandwiched layer upon layer there, and after Herod died, the Romans made it their provincial capital, and Pontius Pilate governed from there between 26 and 36AD. According to the Acts of the Apostles, the first Gentile to be converted to Christianity was a Roman centurion in Caesarea, and the Apostle Paul was imprisoned there before being transported to Rome to stand trial before Caesar himself, with unfortunate consequences. During both Jewish revolts against Rome, it was the martyrdom place of still-renowned Rabbis. It later became an important hub of the Byzantine Christian Empire, before falling to the Muslims. Noticeably, the evidence of Arab architecture (including a very obvious minaret) is completely ignored by the Israeli Park Service. Still, Caesarea was one of my favorite places to visit in Israel. Standing in the exact spot where Pilate would have been entertained by chariot races with the azure waters of the Mare Nostrum (the Roman term for the Mediterranean-"Our Sea") as a backdrop was awesome for a history geek like me.
As time flittered by into the late afternoon, I knew it was time to make a decision as to my plans for the evening. I found a café with Wi-Fi, and figured that since I had an automobile, I might as well make my way through the desert, but before that, I decided to book a room and drive back to Jerusalem for the evening. This turned out to be a choice I would later regret. Having found a great deal online at the Zion Hotel in the New City, I didn’t realize that the hotel sits in the Ben Yehuda pedestrian shopping plaza, and how hard it would be to find a place to park in the area. I was aware of the crazy traffic in the area, but having negotiated places like Manhattan and the Chicago Loop in a van (with a trailer no less) I wasn’t worried about the congestion. But, when I arrived, although I found plenty of 1-hour and 2-hour spots, I was having a lot of trouble locating an overnight lot. One of the most stressful memories of my trip will be cruising the crowded lanes on New Jerusalem for over an hour and a half desperately trying to find a place for my tiny rental car. By the time it was all over, the gas I wasted in search of a parking space, and the price I had to pay for it, would negate the great rate I found at the Zion Hotel. But on a positive note, once I found my room, I ventured out onto the plaza and found Israeli Chicken Schnitzel. Obviously inspired by Teutonic tastes, the Chicken Schnitzel in Jerusalem involves a breaded and fried cutlet, wrapped in a pita stuffed with hummus, pickles, and a variety of veggies. Fantastic.
Early the next morning, I set out for the Negev, Israel’s southern desert. Per my rental agreement, I was forbidden to drive in the West Bank, which meant I had to take a massive detour toward Israel’s southernmost city, Eilat. I didn’t mind though, as I had a plenty of bottle water and a gas station sandwich to provide me sustenance as I saw the scenery. Heading toward the outpost of Mitzpe Ramon, I saw a sign for David Ben-Gurion’s homestead and tomb. As I took the remote road to the site, an ibex (a type of mountain goat with long horns-the symbol of Israel’s park service) jumped right in front of my Nissan. As I swerved and hit the brakes, the ibex stopped and stared at me. I snapped a picture of it and told the suicidal quadruped, “Watch out! This is a rental for heaven’s sake!”
The tomb of the Father of Modern Israel (also the namesake of its primary airport) is set in a panoramic location looking over a desert canyon. As I walked, relatives of the ibex I nearly turned into roadkill wandered freely. When I got to the tomb, I observed the swearing-in ceremony of forty or so teenaged army conscripts. Afterward, I had a pleasant conversation with two of the young IDF troops, before carrying on to Mitzpe Ramon. The “Ramon Lookout” has become a nice little desert community for tourists and retirees, like an Israeli Palm Springs, if you will. Although the views from the overlooks were worth taking a few pictures, I didn’t see the point in hanging around the place for very long. Driving through the Negev, it often felt like I was in Southern California. But then, I would see two things that would remind me of my unique location. The first were massive tornado-like dust devils, cyclones reaching the sky that instantly brought to mind the “Pillar of Cloud” that screened the movements of Moses from the Pharaoh’s pursuers during the Exodus. The second were American-made tanks on maneuvers crossing the highway, turrets gleaming in the sun.
The temperature continued to rise as I rolled into Eilat. Wedged between three other countries, Eilat is in a strategic position as Israel’s only outlet to the Red Sea and therefore, the Indian Ocean. Today, it is not only an important shipping center, but also a seaside resort full of high-rise hotels. Again, as with almost everything in Israel, the closeness of everything amazed me. Coming in through the Arav Valley, I spotted a city on the horizon. I said to myself, “There’s Eilat!” But as I got closer, I saw an unfamiliar flag flying overhead. Then I realized, “That’s Aqaba, in Jordan!” Eilat was astonishing to me in this way. The beaches themselves are not much to speak of (although the water is clear and cool), and perhaps only a couple of miles in length. From a chair sitting in Israel facing the sea, you can look to your right and see the Sinai Mountains of Egypt, barely 5 miles away. In front of you, the Saudi Arabian shoreline is visible across the Gulf of Aqaba, only 8 miles away, and to your left, the city of Aqaba, Jordan, less than one mile away, as if it were an extension of Eilat save the giant Jordanian standard waving in the ocean breeze. The airport in Eilat sits smack in the middle of town, and its closeness to the city (as well as the low-flying planes) makes for a weird ambience.
I really dug Eilat, and while the high-rise hotels start their rates at $200/night, I found a hip little hostel called Corinne located only a 10 minute walk uphill from the beach. The owner, David, is a friendly and helpful guy, and spends his downtime painting canvases behind the reception desk. The place is full of his artwork, and the rooms are in tiny little huts that while claustrophobic, are clean and have everything you need, a comfortable futon bed, wireless internet, a TV with tons of channels, and most importantly, air conditioning. It was my favorite accommodation in Israel, for only $40/night.
Unlike many other places in Israel, secular Eilat doesn’t really play by Shabbat rules. Although I debated the necessity of making a side trip to Jordan, when I realized I could do it during the Sabbath, and reminded myself that I may never be as close again, I asked David to help me organize a jaunt to the world-renown ancient city of Petra.
