Sudan Trip
August 2009

Today was our first day in Sudan. Upon arrival, the first thing I noticed was how tall the trees we planted a year ago have grown. Truly unbelievable! Nothing where I live seems to grow that fast. I was excited and it was good to see as we have big plans for tree planting this trip. The nine we planted last year are shade trees planted in a quad area. Umbrella trees, they are called. They grow quickly, cool the area considerably, and their canopies will come together to form a natural roof over the (planned) picnic tables below. The idea was to give the children a comfortable place to eat, socialize, and study when it is too hot to be inside. This year, however, we wanted to be more practical and plant fruit trees. We planted eighty-one trees, including oranges, mangoes, grapefruit, lemon, guava, tangerine, and Fenne, which is a very large and sweet fruit. Each tree, while only seven or eight inches high when we bought them, needed a hole three times as deep and at least two times as wide. That’s a big hole when you’re digging in such an unforgiving place. Then we used a wheelbarrow of good dirt, several buckets of water, bamboo and duct tape to build a teepee over the tree, and lots of razor sharp Tong Bush to spread around everything to protect it from the goats. We had five workers to help us, each earning a whopping $2.50 for a day of hard labor in the Sudanese heat.

The Umbrella Trees in the background of this photo were only six inches tall when we planted them, just over a year ago. In another year the canopies will have grown together and be dense enough to keep even the rain out. In the foreground middle, James, the hardest working kid in Sudan, drags Tong Bush to spread around the newly planted fruit trees. Tong Bush is extremely sharp and must contain some kind of poison, because when pricked, it causes a dull pain for several hours - almost like being bit by a wasp.

While at the orphanage we planted the fruit trees, repainted the playground, built a duck coop and a rabbit coop from old AK-47 boxes, arranged for the purchase of several picnic tables and rugs for the concrete floors, rewired some buildings for the generator, prepared and planted a large area for a garden, and oversaw the beginning of the mental illness center. I was especially anxious to see the mental illness center started as sometimes things in Africa take forever just to get off the ground. I was able to meet with the contractor, review the plans (a sketch that I faxed him), and watch them begin construction. We’ll plant several trees around the area too once the construction is complete and we know where to put them.

Mr. Bortman building the duck coop from two old AK-47 boxes

Beginning construction on the mental illness center

Hotel for rabbits

Hotel for ducks

Playground before the repainting

It was extremely hot while we were in Sudan. One morning, soon after breakfast and while it was raining, I looked at the thermometer to see 108 degrees. Unforgiving. Everything in Sudan is unforgiving. It is a very harsh, difficult place. Difficult to find work, to find food, to find clean water, to find shelter, to get and stay clean, to move from one place to another, to sleep, to do just about anything. Including survive. I can’t imagine living my life there. I have so much respect for people who give up everything and move to places like Sudan in order to help full-time. Sacrificing their lives for others. All I can think about while I’m there is having dinner back at the five star hotel in Uganda and how blessed we are in America to have what we have. That and how good it is going to feel to drive a nice car on a nice road into beautiful, quiet mountains where I can sleep uninterrupted for fifteen hours. So many things in America we simply take for granted…

Three of the little boys that were only about six, were especially hard workers and very helpful. Ochey, Opea, and I can’t remember the third child’s name. It was an Arabic name and I had trouble pronouncing it. They always followed me around and anticipated things I might need. They could barely (not really) push a small wheelbarrow of dirt, but that didn’t stop them from continually trying. One boy would grab each side of the wheelbarrow to keep it from tipping and then the third boy would grab the handles and push with all his might. They also collaborated on getting water to me in big yellow buckets whenever we planted a tree. I didn’t even have to ask them. They just raced over to the well, filled up a yellow bucket half as big as themselves and then jointly dragged it over to me. Generally I helped them, but it was fun just to watch them too! It is interesting to see how some kids take the initiative and actively look for ways to help while others are content to watch from under the shade trees. I suppose there are hardworking and there are lazy people all over the world in every culture.

Ochey, one of the three hardest working boys at the orphanage. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you work or how smart you are, there are just not a lot of opportunities in Sudan. I can’t even imagine growing up in a place with such despair and hopelessness. Yet there are moments of incredible joy too and in many ways they are probably happier than Americans. The Sudanese are a very loyal and dependable people. Often I get the feeling my friends there would literally do anything for me. Including, without hesitation, give their lives. A lasting peace with northern Sudan and the eradication of the Lord’s Resistance Army are critical for their future. The United States can and should play an active role in both.

Several of the children spend long hours every day building toys from scrap metal and old US Aid cans. I watched them for a while one morning and snapped a few photos. The children are exceptionally talented and creative, designing and producing incredibly detailed toys. I thought about where those skills and patience and tenacity might get them in a different economy.

Flattening a US Aid can to make a truck

Some of the finished products

Waiting for breakfast

Breakfast porridge

Sudanese bathtub

Morning playtime

Preparing an area to plant a garden

The orphanage has several full-time employees to support the two-hundred children

Two of the two-hundred

One of the children who was considerably more shy than the others

The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) is still very active in central Africa. They have moved from Uganda to Sudan to Congo and now to the Central African Republic. They are led by Joseph Kony. Read about him here: http://www.newsweek.com/id/197885/page/1

The boy pictured here is one of the latest victims of the LRA. He was recently brought to the orphanage. Both of his parents were hacked to death by the LRA. He was attacked with a machete and left to die. His arm was sewn back on in the bush. No anesthetic. No antibiotics. Twenty-three years Joseph Kony has been killing and terrorizing innocent people in central Africa. The Newsweek article (linked above) is pretty good, but they are wrong about Kony ever showing up to meet with the United Nations in Juba and mistaken to say Kony ever made any real attempt at peace. He did not, not even once, personally show up for any of the “peace talks” in Sudan. Through his messengers he let it be known he would surrender only if guaranteed immunity from any prosecution and guaranteed safe passage to wherever. A life of luxury I suppose. Amazingly, there are many people who want to give him just that. The International Criminal Court (ICC) indicted Joseph Kony in 2005. Hopefully someday soon they will actually act on that indictment.

Sudan Trip
May 2008


For some reason I feel more anxiety than I have in the past. I do not know why. I have strange dreams that I can’t remember and wake up several times throughout the night. In San Francisco I picked up the two fifty pound suitcases of books, and along with a carry on bag with all my personal items, slowly walked to the international terminal. I tried to get a cart, but did not have enough quarters. Who carries around $3.50 in quarters? I could have paid with a $20, but I didn’t want $16.50 in quarters for change. A man walked past me while I was moving my carry on bag to the other shoulder and laughed that I needed a cart. I said yes, I tried, but it was a long story. Five minutes later he comes walking back from the direction I was headed with a cart for me. Needless to say I was very grateful. It struck me as one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Particularly someone I didn’t even know and would never see again. I thought about that a lot.

I met Boardwalk in London and we had dinner at a seafood place in Heathrow. His plane was a little late in arriving so we elected to stay at the airport rather than take the subway into London. Plus, that restaurant is pretty good and I knew we wouldn’t be getting any more shrimp with cucumbers and soy sauce for a while. The French bread and Stella were good too.

We arrived into Kampala, near Lake Victoria, in the capital of Uganda. Sam and Deng met us at the airport and we drove about forty minutes to the house Sam rents in Kampala. It was especially great to see Deng again. (I call him Ding Ding) He is an extraordinary individual. During meals we talked about the now famous Lost Boys of Sudan and what they endured. Deng was one of them, only instead of seeking an opportunity to emigrate to the United States he chose to stay and fight so his children could live in peace. Without men like him the people of Southern Sudan would have nothing. They should never forget that. After a quick breakfast that included the biggest avocadoes I’ve ever seen by far, we piled into the various vehicles and began our journey to Gulu, near the Sudanese border. What a nightmare. Usually it takes about five or maybe six hours, but this time it took us almost ten hours on a very hot and very dusty road with seven million potholes. We drank bottle after bottle after bottle of water and just threw the empty bottles out the window. I laughed when I saw the look on Boardwalk’s face the first time I did it. We wouldn’t think of doing that in America, but in Africa we make a show of it, or at least I do (sometimes). People along the road love to have the bottles and appreciate the “gift.” After a several hours of being bounced around and not being able to breathe I found myself getting very frustrated and visualizing our freeways at home. Throw in the suicidal drivers and I plan to arrange for a flight in a bush plane next time.

A village we stopped at for lunch on the way to Gulu

After spending the night in Gulu we awoke early and headed into Sudan. Again, it took much longer than usual and after six hours we arrived at the orphanage. I can’t wait to take a plane next time and I don’t care where we have to land!

One of the first kids I saw. His name is Neall and he is always following us around. He seems to remember me, but maybe that is just wishful thinking. He is seven years old.

Boardwalk and I worked the first few days exclusively on installing electrical wire and lights into some of the new buildings, including the new library. They have a generator that runs a couple of hours per week. We also managed to replace many of the high-powered lights that surround the perimeter in case of an attack.

Boardwalk putting his electrical skills to work

Neall and his two buddies. Three boys I could adopt.

I was so tired at the end of each day, but it was a good tired knowing that we accomplished so much. I was also able to get mostly clean which helped me sleep a little better. There is not a lot to say about dinner each night, other than the fact that we actually get to have it. Rice and beans for the most part. Sometimes goat. We did have some hot sauce from China. Lying in bed and reading by flashlight I watched the bugs circling around the outside of my mosquito net.

After finishing the electrical work we got started on the holes for the trees we wanted to plant. It is so hot there and a little bit of shade makes an incredible difference. Sam planted quite a few trees in one area a few years back and they are doing great. When there is a breeze it blows through the trees and can actually make things pleasant. There is an area where four of the dorms come together that we thought would make a great place to plant shade trees and then in a year or two, once the trees are a little bigger, put some picnic tables in the middle. Hopefully the trees will make it. They have a lot of things working against them, goats in particular. To protect against them and all kinds of other living threats, we built wooden structures over the trees and surrounded them with a bush we found nearby that has razor sharp edges.

James is one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met and he helped us a lot. He has been at the orphanage for almost ten years now. He is seventeen years old.

It is interesting to see how some of the older kids are very hard workers and some of the others are as lazy as they come. I guess I would have thought they would all be hard workers, but this one kid must have been the laziest individual in Sudan. We got a lot of laughs out of that.

The future town square with big shade trees and several picnic tables. You just have to use your imagination a little bit, but not for long.

Boardwalk showing off those watering skills

A group of children that seemed especially interested in the electrical work. They also helped us clear (mostly) the grounds of trash, of which there was quite a bit.

We filled the electrical wire trenches with trash before filling them in again.

Someone wrote this (God is so Good) on the wall of the building they use for a church. It is a widely held conviction. At first glance I thought about how ironic it was, but the more I thought about it the less ironic it seemed. Here we are in one of the most difficult countries in the world to live in and people feel blessed; they are so thankful for what they have. They appreciate what they have. You might think they would be bitter, particularly towards God, about what little they actually do have. They are not. In fact, while they are very aware of America’s wealth, they love America and pray for America as THE beacon of justice and freedom in the world. They pray for God to give America even more wealth and to protect it from evil. On September 11^th, 2001, John Garang, the leader of Southern Sudan at the time (before he was assassinated by the North), stopped work for the day in the whole country so people could pray for America. Much of the world jumped up and down with joy on that day and very often those are the people we are most concerned about offending. We should be concerned about helping the people of Southern Sudan. Yet instead our concern is largely summed up by worrying about whether to call the people who attacked us “freedom fighters” or “militants” or “activists.”

The people in Southern Sudan often talk about America’s fight for freedom against the British. The long war with the North and their various proxies, including the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), is about that freedom for the South. The South wants prosperity and basic human rights, including the freedom to live under their own laws and not Sharia Law. They are willing and even eager to fight and die for those rights. Liberty, prosperity, and human rights are hallmarks of Western Civilization. These principles are the exact opposite of what you find in an Islamic society. The people of Southern Sudan wonder why people in America can’t see that. Why they can’t see that this is good and this is evil. It is as simple as it gets. It is as black and white as it gets. Why do people insist that no culture is superior to another?

This kid was so proud of his belt buckle

They put American flags everywhere

This kid carried his flag with him wherever he went

On Sunday morning at church and in the late evenings after it is dark, the kids often get together to sing songs and dance. They have some simple musical instruments that are homemade, but sound great. One of them is a large metal USA food can pounded flat and filled with lots of small rocks. It is a shaker of sorts and helps provide rhythm. It also puts out quite an incredible sound. While watching and listening to them I was thinking we should record a CD and sell it.

Kids at church with boxes of AK-47s in the background

While we were at the orphanage fifteen more children arrived. Mostly they were between six and eight years of age. Children become separated from their parents (and everyone else) during raids on their villages. Hopefully they can stay alive by getting food and water from people in the bush. Sometimes they make their way on foot for several days or even weeks to get to the orphanage or a relative’s village. Other times Sam will hire messengers to put the word out that in a week he will come to a specific location to pick up children and bring them to the orphanage. Always there are many more children than will fit in and on top of the vehicles. This of course puts Sam in the position of having to choose which kids to rescue and which kids to leave behind. Traveling through the bush for hours by Landcruiser with several soldiers is not inexpensive. Diesel was recently $22 a gallon in Sudan. It is also not safe. The LRA has resumed attacks in Southern Sudan. Not coincidentally, during the same time as a new offensive by the North in Abiye.

Getting some food after making it to the orphanage

To accommodate the new children we arranged for the purchase of ten, metal, three-level bunk beds and had them outfitted with blankets, mattresses, and mosquito nets. In the meantime they will have to sleep on the cement floor, which is a whole lot better than where they were sleeping. Plus they will be safe, relatively clean, and have full stomachs, even if it is just beans and rice. Hopefully they will quickly make lots of new friends and soon be strong enough to play soccer, something they all love. If they are even more fortunate, their parents will have survived the raid and find their way back to their children.

One of the goals of this trip was to learn more about children in Sudan who have mental illnesses. In Sudan, they call it “touched.” Specifically, what happens to them? Unfortunately they are generally ignored and kept inside away from other people. In extreme circumstances, for their own safety I’m told, they are chained to a tree. Slinky, the Sudanese man in charge of the orphanage was my main source of information. He spoke with me at length about the “touched” children and arranged for me to meet with one of them and his mother. They came from a nearby village to the orphanage. While walking with the young boy (he was maybe seven) all of a sudden the expression on his face dramatically changed to this incredible look of wonder. Like he’d seen an enormous, but friendly dinosaur or something. He was watching some of the kids play on the swing-set. I’m sure he had never seen a swing-set before and was surprised (maybe even shocked) to see other kids having so much fun. He was a little hesitant at first, but once we got him on the swing he seemed to really enjoy it in his own quiet way.

First time ever on a swing-set

The purpose of talking with Slinky and researching mental illness in Sudan was to determine if there was a need and a desire for a special place where these kids could get the professional attention they need and deserve. We plan to build one of those places as soon as possible.

Neall and me on the morning we left Sudan for Uganda

Israel Trip
October 2007

Jerusalem!
The breakfast at the hotel was incredible. Everything you could ever want. After smoked salmon, capers, onions, lemon, fresh bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, cheese, and espresso we met our guide Zvi in the lobby. A nice man and very knowledgeable, he was born in Boston, moved to Israel in the early 1970s, married a lawyer, and had three children. At our first stop, an overlook from above the city of Jerusalem, Zvi ran through four-thousand years of human history in thirty minutes. He pointed out the Dome of the Rock, after Mecca and Medina, the third holiest place for Muslims. The Southern Steps, where Jesus indisputably walked and threw out the money changers. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Jesus was convicted, crucified, and resurrected. The construction of the security wall around Jerusalem to protect from suicide attacks.

The Dome of the Rock or Temple Mount

Inside the Old City, in the Jewish Quarter, we bought fresh warm bread with cumin. We looked at several different layers of geological history. We visited the Armenian quarter and its beautiful rooftop gardens with views all the way across the Dead Sea to Jordan. We discussed many of the disagreements in the Old City and the small solutions that make incremental differences. The positioning of a cross or a flag, who gets to change a light bulb, and who gets to sweep a floor all are issues of immense importance. After all, if I’m the one who maintains it, then I must be the owner.

We walked across the rooftops for a view of the Wailing Wall and the Bar Mitzvah celebrations below. After passing through security and getting Scott a brand new paper Yarmulke to cover his head, we fended off the orthodox beggars for a photo op at the Wailing Wall, the most sacred site in the world for the Jews. After Scott nearly passed out from heat exhaustion (due to 2 bottles of red wine, 2 Ambien, and no sleep) we walked (Scott staggered) the original Southern Steps where Jesus walked. The original gates are sealed while the Muslims illegally excavate the historical site.

Entering the Wailing Wall

Lunch was in the Muslim Quarter at a Turkish restaurant, where for $20, we had one of the best lunches we’ve ever had. We left along the same route Jesus was forced to carry the cross to Calvary. The path is called the Via Dolorosa, “Way of Grief” or “Way of Suffering,” fourteen individual points on the way to His crucifixion. The Church of Holy Sepulchre is divided among the different Christian denominations, of which the Greek Orthodox had by far the most prominent place. Ironically, the Catholics had the least prominent place. We reached into the reputed point where the cross stood and entered the tomb where He was placed. We touched the fissure in the earth where God made Adam.

The Church of Holy Sepulchre

Prayers…

We drove to southern Jerusalem to overlook the West Bank and the construction of the wall around Jerusalem. Security is paramount here and many of the Jewish homes are outfitted with bulletproof glass. As it got dark we watched the vehicles quickly or slowly make their way through security. Unlike the United States, where we’re a terrorist attack or two away from racially profiling, in Israel they are long past that and wave you through quickly if you’re American or Jewish. Palestinians on the other hand, need to plan for potential long delays crossing back and forth through the security wall.

Back at the hotel we showered and walked to a Spanish restaurant for dinner. The tuna tartar was especially good. Our waitress insisted Led Zeppelin was from America and sang “American Woman.”

After another great breakfast and 2 lattes each we headed over to the Mount of Olives in east Jerusalem. The Protestants have an alternative site that offers a different opinion on where Jesus was crucified. While a beautiful garden, the 155 tour buses out front made it difficult to feel any kind of connection with the place.

The Garden of Gesemani has some of the oldest olive trees in the world. It is the place where Jesus was betrayed by Judas and arrested by the Romans. The Church of United Nations, or “Church of Anguish,” stands nearby. Our guide, Zvi, read from the Gospel of Mark as we overlooked the olive trees and imagined ourselves back in time two thousand years. Inside the church, we were greeted by a hushed silence as people from all over the world paid their respects.

In Jerusalem, spirituality – both good and evil, is continually at the forefront. It permeates your being. The history is all around you. The newspaper headlines from Gaza, the billowing smoke from rocket attacks, the Old City and its four quarters and narrow pathways, a little girl playing with the clip of her father’s M-16 while he sips coffee, the security wall…There is no escaping it.

After a lunch of soda water and cheese and tomato sandwiches we entered the Holocaust Museum. At the Warsaw Ghetto Square we discussed the two sculptures and what they represented. The anguish and hopelessness of the European Jews in the 1930s and 1940s, the establishment against all odds of the state of Israel in 1948, alleged Jewish subservience, and perhaps most powerful, the small boy asking what we are going to do so this never happens again. A question perhaps just as relevant today as it was in 1938. While most of the architecture in Jerusalem is rather nondescript, the museum was astonishing. It meticulously outlined the many obstacles of the Jews as you were led back and forth across the museum on your way to the light at the end of the tunnel that represented Jewish statehood. I especially liked the short films and personal testimony of Holocaust survivors. It was a deeply moving experience, particularly the special tribute to children lost during the Holocaust. In a very large, dark room with lots of mirrors and soft music, three candles burned, but gave you the impression it was thousands and thousands to represent not just the children killed, but the future generations as well.

The small boy asking, “What are you going to do?”

In the evening Zvi walked us through some old Jewish neighborhoods with small, but charming houses and centrally located parks. There were cats everywhere, as in much of Jerusalem. It reminded me of Murakami’s talking cats. We bought 1 kilo (whatever that is) of the best chocolate cake known to man in a nearby market. It was really more like a breakfast pastry and it literally melted in your mouth. I wish I could have brought some home.

The best chocolate “cake” in the world!

Dinner was at Olive’s, the local steak house. We had some Israeli Pinot Noir from the Golan Heights and a memorable asparagus appetizer.

We left the hotel at 8am for the two hour trip to Masada. We traveled through the West Bank, past the Bedouin camps, past where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, and along the Dead Sea to the lowest place on earth, 1200 feet below sea level. Masada is majestic. It rises out of the desert as an enormous presence overlooking the Dead Sea. Once at the top (we took the tram, but if you arrive early enough it is possible to hike as well), there is plenty of space, lush gardens, a small vineyard, a synagogue, and lots of water thanks to the ingenious collection and storage systems. It is also virtually impenetrable. After eight months of siege and hard work on a ramp, ten thousand Roman soldiers were able to breach the gates and find 960 dead Jews. As legend has it, the Jews committed suicide rather than be taken alive as Roman slaves. You can still see the ramp and rock outlines of the Roman camps below.

The Dead Sea as seen from Masada

There is a canyon that runs along the side of Masada. We yelled into the canyon in Hebrew, “Masada will never fall again.” I have never heard such an echo in my life!

Nearby Masada we had a quick lunch and hiked to some mountain springs for a swim. Along the way we saw several Ibex, an animal similar to the antelope, but with large, curved horns.

You’d never know it was the desert…

A bath in the Dead Sea

I think it is difficult to imagine floating in the Dead Sea unless you’ve experienced it. It is really quite incredible to float in water as if you were completely weightless. Especially while watching Israeli F-16s flying very low overhead at twice the speed of sound. We became unrecognizable as we caked ourselves in the dark, salubrious mud. Afterwards, relaxed in the shade, we sipped our beers while overlooking the Dead Sea.

We had dinner that night with a cat that loved shrimp at the local wine bar.

Thursday we drove with Mike, our Jewish Canadian guide, to the Golan Heights. During the drive Mike filled us in on post-independence Israeli history. We found his knowledge and insights very interesting, particularly the insights on the 1967 Six Day War and the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Israelis are not especially big fans of the United Nations.

We visited Beth Shean, an excavated Roman city on the way to the Jordan River where first Jesus, and now Scott, were baptized. In Scott’s instance: in a ghost outfit, by a Russian-speaking priest with a long white beard, surrounded by Brazilians and large catfish. The Jordan River was beautiful, but much smaller than I expected. We left the Jordan and drove to the Golan Heights and the former Syrian Army positions, now owned and controlled by Israel. Many of the bunkers, underground tunnels, and gun positions are still there. Standing there, overlooking Syria and Lebanon off in the distance to the north, you can understand why Israel does not want to return the Golan Heights to Syria.

Beth Shean, former Roman city

Towards evening, we met our Land Rover guide, Roy, who drove us around the Golan Heights on some crazy, barely passable roads. We saw lots of wild pigs, antelope, quail, and falcons and then had lemongrass tea and cookies overlooking the farmland as the sun set.

Former Syrian positions, Golan Heights

Looking out over Syria through a bunker in the Golan Heights

The next morning we visited a nature reserve near the Lebanon border. In some places the ground was still scorched from Hezbollah’s Katyusha rockets. Nearby, we visited the hilltop where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount. It overlooks the Sea of Galilee and is a kind of natural amphitheatre. Today, there is a church built on the site. A simple, modest church with eight sides, each side with one of the Beatitudes inscribed at the top. This was a special place for me; somehow it felt different…

The Church of the Beatitudes

Saturday is Shabbat, the day of rest for the Jews and there is not a lot open here. The streets are empty and you can’t even buy a newspaper. You even have to watch what elevator you take. We were able to visit the Israeli Museum, where the Dead Sea Scrolls are located. In the afternoon, we drank Turkish coffee and relaxed by the pool.

The Dead Sea Scrolls

The Israeli Museum

Early Sunday we took a taxi to the airport for our flight to Eilat. Getting through security was a nightmare. I don’t recommend traveling alone (as we did into and out of Israel), having Sudanese and Jordanian stamps in your passport, and not checking any luggage. You are asking to be subject to a one-hour interrogation, having your belongings inspected piece by piece again and again by multiple guards, and finally, strip-searched! We did eventually make it to Jordan where our guide met us at the border. The difference between Israel and Jordan is apparent right away. Jordan is a big desert with a road cut through it – a road full of maniacal truck drivers. On the way to Petra we stopped at the Seven Pillars of Wisdom and the valley where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed. The desert here reminded me of Monument Valley in Utah.

Somewhere in Jordan

Somewhere else in Jordan

Finally in Petra after a couple of “shortcuts” we were told, but really to hand off cloth covered items in busy marketplaces to men who don’t speak and don’t look at you, we had a beer overlooking the rock formations. I was a little tired of Jordan already by this point, but did look forward to Petra in the morning.

The Five Pillars of Wisdom

Inside the tombs in Petra

Outside the Tombs in Petra

Theatre in Petra

A capitalist in Jordan

Petra, Greek for “City of Rock”

After Petra we traveled back to Eilat and flew to Tel Aviv. Tel Aviv is the business and technology capital of Israel and it overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. We walked up and down its beautiful beaches for several miles. That night, our last night of a great trip, we went to a Sushi bar near the hotel with an Israeli supermodel as a hostess.