Eliat, Israel
I woke up yesterday morning, pulled on my socks that I'd warmed on the heater to ease the transition from my warm bed into the cold room.
I opened the curtain, trying not to take the view of the Dome of the Rock for granted after six days, and saw it.
Overnight, it had snowed in Jerusalem. Three inches. It was still snowing, the wind whistling around my window pane.
I dreaded the thought of my next move. I had to be in Eliat, 5 hours south by evening or pay a penalty for my Red Sea fronted room. I called the bus station. A real person answered the phone at 7 a.m. "Buses running to Eliat, I asked tentatively?" "Yes. Of course," was the gruff reply.
Easy for him to say. I had heard tales of snow stopping every thing in hilly Jerusalem. For days. " You might as well roll over and go back to sleep if you see snow," said Sr. Truday Neebuhrs, one of the4 directors of Ecce Homo. "But, she added, smiling, if you decide to go, leave on the first bus out."
I packed the last things, put on long underwear ( it was 30 degrees or so and driving snow ), five layers of sweaters and shirts. Finally, I tied plastic bags around my feet to keep them as dry as possible. I knew I had to walk 1/4 mile to the Lion's Gate over the slick and mushy cobblestones w/ Medieval drainage ( runoff to the sides not grates )--puddles everywhere--in hopes of finding a cab who had ventured out in this snow.
I handed in my key, closed the door to the convent, and started walking. Three cars went by, splattering slush on my legs as they passed.
OUtside the gate, there were no cabs in sight. I began walking down the hill to the main road. I heard the engine start of the van next to me, and the door open. "Where you go," asked a heavy set man. I could smell smoke from the street. "Central bus station." "100 shekels", he said, almost yelling, and pointing to the weather. That amount could take me all the way to Bethlehem--or Tel Aviv an hour away.
"No, I'll walk." I knew I couldn't walk, it was too far, and I had to make the 10 am bus and get a ticket. But that was robbery.
"60 shekels--and that's a good fare."
"No."
I started walking, dragging my black bag .
"OK. 60, but not enough."
I got in. He started haggling from that moment until I got out of the van ten minutes later. Few cars were on the road. He had no defroster. But somehow, we made it.
The bus left at 10am. I got the front seat. Wending our way through the snow, the driver was a pro. Traveling south, the landscape became desert very quickly. You could hear the wind hitting the bus.
Just about the time the Dead Sea appeared on my left, the sun broke out of the clouds creating a dramatic landscape against the tan hills.
I had gotten out just in time, i found out. All transportation stopped later in the day.
Eliat is a mix of Venice Beach and Wildwood, New Jersey. Big hotels with lots of convention folk. But there's sun ( albeit 50 degree weather ) and the Red Sea.
I'm reading the International Herald Tribune on my little deck. And glad to be here.
MC
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