On the Holy Land. Part 2. "Above the blue sky there is a golden city..."
Actually, Taba was chosen by us because of its proximity to the Israeli border. From the territory of the hotel, if you look ahead, then immediately behind the neighboring, last Hilton hotel on Egyptian soil, you could already see the hills of Israel. And across the Red Sea (also visible) - the territory of Jordan. So, having phoned Ibrahim, met with his agent in Sharm Mustafa and handed him the deposit, we waited in trepidation for the night from Monday to Tuesday, wondering if our money was crying or we would still go to the Holy City, saving 90 bucks. The mood was slightly upbeat. We read on the Internet about the intricacies of crossing the Israeli border. Say, you can get into a traffic jam and stand from an hour to five. Or they may not let you in at all, if you don’t give a ride with a face.
Finally, the long-awaited moment has arrived. At the appointed hour, we were at the appointed place. And minute by minute a young man approached us, introducing himself as Ahmed, Ibrahim's younger brother. He was without a vehicle, which worried us a little. However, everything became clear when we walked 100 meters to the Hilton, and it turned out that the checkpoint of the Israeli border guard was still 150 meters away. After waiting for the bulk of the tourists with whom we were to travel in a bundle (another 40 people who arrived by bus from Sharm), we moved forward. The Egyptian border-customs was crossed in 10 minutes without any problems. Ma salamaa, Misr!
We approached the Israeli checkpoint. A young man with long curled hair carefully examined our faces, compared them with our passports and nodded, come in, they say. We walked another 5 meters and found ourselves in front of customs officers (which is noteworthy, most of the employees at the Israeli checkpoint are ladies and girls). They took our passports, anointed them with some liquid (probably to check for falsehood) and also nodded. Then it was the turn of the girls from the border service. After flipping through my passport, the young woman looked at me and asked for her father's name. I answered. The child nodded and slapped me a 3 month visa. And that's all. Next - a bus from the Israeli travel agency that hosted us. The whole transition process took no more than half an hour! So, friends, the devil is not as terrible as they write about him on the Web.
Immediately beyond the border line began the Israeli resort town of Eilat. He impressed us with the fact that even at 2 o'clock in the morning life was in full swing here. Bars, restaurants, splendid hotels, shops and shops - all at your service. Yes, not Misr with his languid languor and laziness of merchants, sticking out in the shops for no one knows why.
After a bit of sleep, after 2 hours we were woken up by a stop at the Dead Sea. Here, having changed in special booths, they went down to the sea, about which they heard a lot of wonderful things. Everything I heard and read turned out to be true! I cautiously entered the thick, whitish-transparent water. Ooh, and warm! Where is our Red with its 22 degrees. There were, for sure, all 35-36. The water began to tingle pleasantly on the skin. This salt penetrated into the pores. Sat down as recommended. He folded his legs in Turkish, and, pushing off from the bottom, hung in the water with a non-sinking float. Feelings are unforgettable. I did not dare to lie on my back, being afraid to wet my head and choke on the brine. And so 2 calls for 15-20 minutes. Good!! ! Then, after breakfast, we moved on.
After 2 hours, a majestic panorama of the Holy City opened before us. He wasn't that big. Well, such a provincial center with a population of 600.000. I wouldn't say very green. Strong and strongly moderate landscaping. There are many more trees and bushes in our poor Kharkiv. The whole city is scattered over the hills. The architecture of the new districts is rather monotonous. I did not see wide streets and highways anywhere. Blue sky, gray buildings and stones under a hot, debilitating sun, sucking the last drops of moisture out of all living things (they drank more than 6 liters of water a day for three people, fortunately, forewarned, stocked up). And an unforgettable feeling of something Secret, Unearthly. . . We were pointed to the main sights of the City: the Temple Mount, the cemetery of the Last Judgment, the place on which costs about 2 million dollars, since it is here that bones will begin to grow into flesh at the call of the trumpet of the archangel, Gethsemane garden, Gehenna fiery, the main temples, etc.
The first point of our tour was the fortress and the famous Wailing Wall. There were very few tourists there. The day was well chosen. Friday is much busier. With a beating heart, we approached the remains of the once great and beautiful Temple of Solomon. Women and men were divided into 2 streams. The men were directed to the left, the women to the right. Having washed their hands from the sacred spring, they stocked up on little notes and went to the Wall with small steps. I also wrote a request to the Almighty. Approaching the Wall, he found a hole where he could put a note, put it there and froze, touching his brow to a cool (the sun had not yet scorched) stone. Thoughts in my head were confused due to excitement and vile illness. Just then a scrawny little man in a long black lapsrdak jumped up to me with a little book in his hands. Putting his hand on my head, he asked for my name. I named myself. Name of wife and children? Said this too. To your health, my uncle muttered, opened the booklet in Hebrew and uttered a couple of phrases in the same language. And then he made an eloquent gesture with his fingers. Go ahead, money. I tried to get off with a dollar, but the man grimaced and was offended: "I'm a rabbi! " I had to go to another compartment of my wallet. His uncle's eyes filled with greed, and he muttered, "One hundred dollars, one hundred dollars! " I looked at him with regret. Ek grabbed something. Of course, I respect the Almighty and His servants, but not to the extent that I give a good part of my monthly salary. Glory to the Creator, I found in the bins 20 shekels, once presented to me by Volodya Sverzhin (this is something about 5 dollars). He handed it to the rabbi and, despite his sour physique, went home. On the way, I saw how my bus neighbor, to whom this place was more holy (judging by the eloquent profile), was attacked by rabbis of a higher rank and silently parted with American greens, entangled in some kind of leather straps with a box in which, as I explained later, there was a certain prayer. Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha olam!
The next point of our program was the Church of the Nativity, located in Bethlehem. This area of Jerusalem is now in the Palestinian Authority, fenced off from the Jewish part of the city by a special wall. They penetrated the wall without problems, without leaving the bus. We were taken to the icon shop, where everyone could stock up on copies of the famous Jerusalem icons, candles, souvenirs of pilgrims from the Holy Land, etc. Prices, of course, were sky-high. A small icon of Our Lady of Jerusalem cost about $15. The same number - Smiling Mother of God. For 10 bucks you could buy 3 sets of pilgrims, which included a cypress crucifix and 4 vials filled with myrrh, holy water, soil and oil. Without taking pity, they laid out $35 for souvenirs, having forgotten the wisdom that you should not rush into the embrasure where the guide, who has his own percentage from these transactions, will indicate to you. Already when they approached the Temple, they saw Arab shops, in which these very sets were sold for 1 dollar, and an icon 1.5 times more could be bought for 2-3 dollars! Which I did by buying a menorah as well. In the shop it cost $27, here I bought it for $9. . .
The ancient Temple inspired pious thoughts even in me, an agnostic and idolater. I prayed with feeling before the faces of the saints, touched with my hand the place where the Cradle of the Holy Child was located and the Cradle itself, hidden behind thick glass and hung with numerous lamps. However, my leg, be it wrong, prevented me from perceiving everything adequately. He could hardly move, looking first at the magnificent stained-glass window, then at the original of the Smiling Virgin. In the courtyard we came across a statue of St. Jerome, the patron saint of translators, who, according to legend, made the first translation of the Holy Scripture into lytyn, the so-called. Vulgate.
Crossing the Palestinian border in the opposite direction made us worry. All tourists were expelled from the bus and forced to go underground, where we passed the Palestinian checkpoint. Severe ladies (here too! ) in hijabs examined us and our documents in search of spies. Above us, on metal structures resembling scaffolding, walked stern guys with machine guns at the ready. Brr, that's kind of embarrassing. . .
The last point of the route was the Church of the Holy Sepulcher - the greatest shrine of the Christian world. Here are the famous Golgotha, the stone of chrismation and the tomb, which for some time sheltered the earthly flesh of Christ. The tomb itself is covered with an ancient temple, around which another, later one, was built. Here the atmosphere is even more gloomy and solemn. At the stone and at the bed where the body of Christ lay, I prayed for health. Unfortunately, there was no instant miracle. But this is due to the fragility of my faith. Now, things seem to be getting better. (They say that not only I, but many who visited Egypt this season, have exacerbated chronic sores. So think, friends).
Having made the last circle around the Holy City, we moved back. We slept almost the entire way back. However, I managed to see the land with kibbutzim located on it - collective agricultural communities. And he marveled at how hardworking the people of Israel are, managing to gather a rich harvest of fruits, vegetables and cereals on such meager lands. God help them. Thanks for the hospitality!
The return crossing over the border, by the way, took all the same half an hour.
