From Eilat, we walked into Jordan at the Aqaba border.  Petra had just been announced as the second of the new Seven Wonders of the World.  The Jordanians were proud and ecstatic.  Petra is magnificent.  As we walked up to the monoliths in the rocks, our trusty guide played the Indiana Jones song on his cell phone.

A Bedouin sold me a 2000-year-old ring in Petra.  Every time it rains – about once a year – tons of old rings, coins and other small objects get washed up into their caves.  He gave it to me for about 30USD.  As the day progressed, I felt like my soul was somehow detaching itself from my body in this strange and nebulous way.  My head was in its place but not quite on point.  Very peculiar.  As we were preparing to leave, I gave the ring to my friend who wanted to explore this weird occurrence.  Within an hour, it was gone.  The ring simply disappeared from her hand.  I think it was supposed to do that.

Within ten or so minutes, while I stood by the concierge’s desk asking stupid questions, I dropped a 5 cent euro coin from about 5 feet in the air, and it landed on its side!  It stood there until some Arab picked it up, completely not understanding why I fell to the floor to photograph it emphatically.  I thought that maybe, for a few minutes, I would somehow be able to read minds, like in that Twilight Zone episode.  I wasn’t, but the day was no less odd.  

Bedouins own several camels.  They go for up to 10 000 USD and make for a fine dowery.

We drove to Eilat, parked our car at the border, and entered Sinai by foot where, at the Taba border crossing, Mahmoud, our trusty driver from the Dahab hotel I booked only hours earlier patiently awaited our arrival.  Patience is clearly a virtue here for upon entering his van, we proceeded to wait for another hour while our passports were somewhere else entirely.  Several checkpoints and a Bedouin tent with tea and trinkets later, we arrived.  No a/c.  Hot room.  About 7USD per person per night.  Not too shabby.  After the bombings in recent years, tourists just don’t flock there, a factor contributing to zealous hospitality and really cheap stuff.    
I ate. I snorkeled. I swam with the jelly fish (yes, and other fish) and rode a special needs horse called Pepsi, while the young boy who brought the horses questioned my dad’s virility for not giving me any siblings.  Then we drove home to Israel.

The man in the white dress is our driver.  The other man wanted to arm wrestle everyone, and we had to oblige because he carried a gun. 

I have no intention of listing all the incredible things I saw and did, except to say that Israel is pretty radically amazing, as they say.  A country that’s barely fifty years to have such a devoted clientele with the most impressive sites to show for it.  Sure, Israel is not without its problems but ultimately, these problems are bigger than I can even contemplate.  
Jerusalem is magical.  A vastly diverse bunch of folks populate this immense place that, obviously like no other in the world, contains the foundation for our essence as we know it.  Whatever the hell that means, I guess.  

Graffiti in Jerusalem

I learned how to be radically amazed at the simplicity and endurance of the caper bush that, if cut, will continue to grow because its roots are so deeply embedded in the soil.  And without sounding like a giant, hirsute hippy, I really did learn how to follow my bliss.  Tenacity is a mot juste for the Israelis.  Civilizations have risen and fallen, tons of cats dead and gone, but these people defend and represent; and for this, I really love them. 

Sunrise on Mt. Yishai. 

Sunny Nashville!  Home of great country music stars and Monell's, the amazing should food restaurant where for $10 you get all the fried chicken, fried catfish, mushy corn, cream spinach and biscuits your little heart can handle.  They know not the meaning of hydrogenated oils, nor do they care.  Yeehaw!  Actually, you can find an amazing vegetable and fruit market where perfect strawberries and juicy Georgia peaches are so cheap, you might think it's a scam.  It's not.   These things just aren't frying pan friendly and therefore not as popular.

I also loved honkytonking.  That's when you go to bars with amazing live country bands and gentlemen ask you to dance and nothing more.  Then you drink lots of Jack Daniels and play darts.   Then you get  a hotdog and banana bread pudding for the ride home, with your roady cup. 

Did we meet Mr. Jack Daniel himself?  Sure did, in Lynchburg, TN, home of the distillery in a completely dry county.   Nevertheless, we managed to buy three modestly sized, award-winning bottles from '81 and '54. 

Our eclectic Jack Daniels distellry tour group. 

We also saw the rubble of Johnny Cash's house.