Israel, Day 8

Josh and I woke up feeling refreshed... and discovered quickly that we were two of the only people feeling so. Some people definitely hung out later than we did, but for once we decided that sleep was a good idea and took in a full six hours or so. I confirmed that this was the correct decision as soon as I saw Masada from the ground.

Masada comes from the word for “fortress” and is the name for a gigantic plateau in the Judean Desert on the western side of the Dead Sea where ancient palaces/forts used to be. The place was supposedly fortified by Herod the Great as a personal sanctuary because he was a paranoid man. The Sicarii, a Jewish group of extremists resisting Roman rule, sought out Masada when the Second Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. They altered some of the existing structures for their use, including the setup of one of the oldest synagogues in Israel, built around 67CE.

In an attempt to take Masada, the Romans built a rampart on the western side and used it to break in through the western defense wall. However, once they got in, they found everyone dead. The residents seemed to have decided they would rather commit mass suicide than be taken down by the Romans.

Now, Masada is a national park and is frequently used for military training and ceremonies by the IDF.

We hiked up the Roman ramp, a steep early morning activity which separated the previous night’s partiers from those who managed a decent period of rest. Upon cresting the top, though, the group found level ground: we were all breathless. We began to explore the ancient ruins and the spectacular views, but Ran called us all to sit down for a brief description of the place. A few of us chatted amongst ourselves while we waited for the rest to gather.

“If this was America, there’d be, like, an escalator up here,” Marc said.

I was right there with him. “Man, that is so unfortunate, but so true.”

“Nah, they’d be using a gondola lift or something,” Jess added. Marc and I nodded regretfully.

“Lazy Americans,” Marc muttered.. We chuckled.

After Ran explained a bit about Masada, he mentioned that it was right near the Dead Sea; looking over the eastern edge of the plateau, the Dead Sea is easily visible a short distance off. “The Dead Sea is losing about one meter of water each year because the Jordan is being used by farmers and the Dead Sea Factory is using all the minerals up.”

Someone raised a hand. “We’re going to float in the Dead Sea later, right?”

“Yes, you will be able to float because there are so many minerals in the water,” Ran answered in his guidely way. He explained the sea's formation briefly.

“Kind of like a Dead Sea reduction sauce,” Reuben commented, spurring a few scattered laughs.

“Are there any sharks to worry about?” The original questioner.

Ran looked amused. “No, it’s called the Dead Sea.”

We descended Masada via the Snake Path, a twisting, natural, windy path much less steep than the Roman ramp but with more open bends that drop off rather suddenly. As I jollily whistled my way down I noticed Joe taking baby steps around one of the more dangerous-looking corners and thought I might join him for a more view-friendly descent. “Mind if I walk with you?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” he said. I kept to the outside, pretty sure after Joe’s mountain episode that my balance was a bit better, though the truth is that I probably just got lucky in Israel in spite of my normally klutzy nature. On a regular day in America I walk into at least three inanimate objects and trip over stairs or my own shoelaces (regardless of whether my shoes have laces) at least twice.

The mountains were on the opposite side of Masada, but the view on this side out to the Dead Sea and beyond seemed to extend for days. When we got to level ground at the bottom we took off at a sprint and joined the rest of the group.

By the time we had reached the foot of Masada we were all quite tired. Again.

But alas, sleep is for the weak: it was time for our next walk through nature’s abundant beauty! We hiked a short but somewhat winding path through water running around and over rocks amidst tall greens and bushes. As we went I nearly tripped and thus ended up explaining how I broke my leg being struck by a car in 2006, assuring Andrew, Jesse, and Steve that the much more interesting version of the story was on my blog. I finished the story as we neared a clearing.

The brook we had followed led to a pool of water amidst the rocks and greenery, fed by a small waterfall over some concrete stairs and the natural rock ramp beside it.

Of course, the rock ramp instantly became a waterslide to our group. We relaxed, loving the refreshing respite in the water after climbing Masada in the heat. Some went up the stairs exploring, some stayed and sat in the water, simply enjoying it. I went to check out the upper level with Nancy, Melissa, and Michelle. It was just another path, though it did look pretty cool.

I came back to the first pool via the waterslide. Andrew and Emmanuel stood in the water, bare-chested, playing a game of darts with algae as the darts and each other as the target. Before long, algae chunks were flying all over the place, attaching themselves to unsuspecting individuals in surprising places.

A few people came to the area with a picnic in tow. A clump of algae sailed past and into someone’s cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“What did you just DO?” Andrew whispered harshly.

“I don’t know… what happened?” replied Emmanuel. So innocent.

“He’s going to want your first born child for that; that is really good coffee, I think!” I’m not sure why Andrew was suddenly an expert on coffee brought to a picnic, but I wasn’t about to start a tangential conversation, diverting the point when this discussion was so darn interesting.

“Well, I can apologize,” Emmanuel said. Andrew waved a hand as if to say don’t worry about it and turned around to talk to the guy.

In the meantime, some of the girls behind Emmanuel had begun their own algae war. A wad sailed towards me and I ducked. It hit Marc instead. I shrugged.

“Okay, time to go!” Ran called, and we all slowly gathered our things to head back to the bus. Several of us picked algae from our backs, sides, or necks before donning our shirts.

Ran informed us that the Dead Sea was our next stop. We had worked up an appetite, so hearing that we would be getting lunch before the Dead Sea was like music to our ears.

We ate at a place beneath the gift shop at the Dead Sea. At lunch, sitting with Tair and Andrew, I discovered just how deep Tair’s addiction to French fries is. She had polished off the fries on her plate and started picking at Andrew’s.

“I’m gonna get up to get some more chicken. Tair, do you want me to get you some more fries?” offered Andrew.

“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks.” Tair replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m – all right, yeah.”

Saw that coming, Calvin muttered at me.

After the third dish of fries (I have to admit, it wasn’t just Tair – Andrew and I did some picking, too), we got up and went out to the Dead Sea. I took my shirt off and left my towel and camera ashore on a chair before strolling out to the water.

“Dude,” Marc said as I walked past him, “it’s crazy out there. You just float. Be careful ‘cause if you’re not you’ll just flip over on your stomach. It’s not bad; just don’t go under or anything.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” I continued down to the water and started wading in. At first it felt just like any lake I had ever splashed into (only much, much warmer). I waded further, and thought the water temperature made it feel kind of like a bath. A few steps more and I thought, What the…! A strange sensation had crept over me. Each step forward displaced more water, rendering me more weightless and the sea more supportive. Before I was waist-deep the buoyant force took my legs. I fell backward onto a bed of water.

I looked around and saw several of my friends in the same position: Jess, Sarah, Marc, Jeff, and Aimee were all lying around, too. “Isn’t this crazy?” Dan mused as he approached. We all nodded. Marc drifted over.

“Dude, the pain on my groin is terrible.”

“Oh yeah?” I really needed that information, Javier. Thanks.

“Yeah, like because of chafing or whatever.”

“Did you, uh… you know…recently?”

“No, no, it’s not like there’s anything wrong, but we were hiking and sweating earlier and I’ve been in here for like a full ten minutes.”

A few minutes later, I felt a sting that only grew worse. So this was what Javier was talking about. Hooray for high-mineral content. Buoyancy, cleanliness, and… this.

“I need to get out of here,” Marc continued. “I’m heading back to the shower over there. It’s got crazy good water pressure, by the way.”

“I’m following you.” There was a shower set up on the beach with four heads pointing in opposite directions, so as to accommodate four individuals showering simultaneously to get the mineral-filled, pain-inducing water off. And Marc wasn’t kidding; the water pressure was ridiculous. I’m talking about the kind of pressurized water you’d use to clean off the exterior walls of a shed. All four spouts were taken when I approached, but their users soon left and I took over where Marc was standing. Andrew, Robby, and Liron came over to use the other three.

“Ah it burns!” exclaimed Andrew. He yanked the cord and started the water pouring over his head.

“Man, this is not acceptable,” Robby announced as he cleaned off his legs. “You know what, forget it. This needs to happen.” He pulled his suit an inch or so away from his waist, allowing the water to relieve him of any salt water that might have been trying to hide from its powerful blast before.

“Oh, good idea!” Andrew and I said at once.

Liron raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s what that is for.”

“It’s… necessary,” Robby reaffirmed.

“Uh-huh.” Liron turned around.

The rest of us just laughed aloud and then left.

I saw several people pass by on the way to the bus with ice pops. Suddenly I wanted one more than I thought possible. “Where’d you get that?”

“Downstairs.”

“Do we have time?” I asked Andrew.

“I… yeah, I want one too. Let’s hurry up.”

We went downstairs to get ice pops.

I fumbled around with my transactional Hebrew, thanking the girl at the counter while Andrew chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing pretty well what was so funny.

“She was totally checking you out. She was eyeing you… and then said she thought you were cute when we left. What is your deal, man? How do you do it?”

“Do what? You’re kidding, right?” I had to assume he was kidding for two reasons. One: he’s always kidding. Two: I don’t understand Hebrew very well, but I was nothing more than a polite customer down there.

He didn’t answer me. We boarded the bus with our ice pops. I played myself in a game of Scrabble on my iPod amidst sharing music with Andrew and sleeping all the way to the Golan Heights, which was about a three-hour drive.

We set out things down in the hotel room and met for dinner. When dinner concluded we gathered in a large room nearby.

“Our Israeli friends have a few activities planned for us this evening. They have a night of games, which Guy will explain. And afterwards, you guys can each take one of these Israel Outdoors t-shirts. Please everyone wear them tomorrow!”

“Are they the shirts that our group designed?” someone asked. Paul and I joined a small group of us to design a t-shirt for our specific trip. Paul did the artwork because he’s an incredibly good comic artist. These, however, were not those shirts.

“We should get those the day before we leave Israel, actually, when we return to Tel-Aviv,” Tair replied.

“We will be playing some fun games, and some educational games, against each other,” Guy began. He broke us into groups by our count-off numbers; it was to be an Odd vs. Even competition. “You will get points for winning competitions, getting questions right, and supporting your team.”

Support our team. We can do that.

Immediately the room erupted with cries of “GO EVEN!” and “ODD, ODD, ODD!” Isn’t it amazing how quickly competition creates camaraderie?

“Okay, okay, quiet down. You won’t get points for interrupting me,” Guy corrected. He’s a smart guy.

He began with a succession of multiple-choice questions. On the second one, the group was huddled and unsure of an answer. I fished my notebook out of my pocket to try and help us remember. It’s not like there were rules laid down against using it… until Matan came over and took the book away. Apparently my diligent scholarly nature gave us an unfair advantage. We shrugged it off.

After the first few questions, the first activity came up. We were all totally into it by now – it was bringing back childhood memories of great kids’ game shows like Double Dare, Legends of the Hidden Temple, and Guts.

Sarah and Erika squared off in a competition to the death, for the Even and Odd teams, respectively. When I say it was a competition to the death, of course I mean they were being mummified with toilet paper. Don’t worry, they both lived through it.

Sarah spun around while a teammate held the roll; Erika stood still and allowed herself to be wrapped. We were going for coverage rather than speed. The Odd team won, but Sarah was given an opportunity to regain some points for her team by continuing to wear her mummy garb until the game’s conclusion.

The next activity involved a balloon-popping game. Dan quickly took over leadership of our group and he and I recruited six volunteers from our team to compete. We were to set up in pairs to try and pop balloons using any method that came to mind, so long as we maintained the positions the Israelis set up. That game quickly went to the Evens.

A soccer ball was placed on the floor and a makeshift goal between two chairs was set up at the back of the room for the following game. Everyone was very enthusiastic about this one. Guy explained the rules. A contestant was to step up and use the broomstick to spin around a given number of times, and then attempt to kick the ball into the goal without falling face-first onto the ground with dizziness.

Each team’s contestant went, and each contestant scored. We went through the three set rounds and still a tie remained, so we needed to go into overtime. The Israelis set the chairs closer together so that the ball would barely fit through if kicked properly. Without the spinning, this would be difficult, but Guy and Matan also tacked an extra five full spins on for each contestant.

The Evens went first. After so many spins there was no way they could score; they finally recorded a miss.

We practically shoved Robby out into the clearing around the ball, jumping up and down and cheering him on. “No pressure, Robby!” He looked a little nervous, even though this was just a fun competition. Maybe he was afraid of the nausea; I couldn’t blame him.

Robby spun around and the cheering continued. The moment he stopped and prepared to kick, the room fell… well, not exactly silent, but the ear-splitting cheers were reduced to a near-normal level. Whatever that is.

With the pressure on and his head spinning, Robby took a step and kicked the ball with impossible precision. It wasn’t a slow-roller, either; he had reared back and fired it in like a pro.

We took our star player back to our seats, hardly restraining ourselves from excessive celebration. We weren’t worried about being unfairly penalized; it’s not like our Israeli buddies were the World Cup referees.

The semifinal competition involved comedic improvisation, so we sent our comedian Robby back out to face Joel from the Evens. A seat was placed in front of us and we gathered around to watch. Joel was set in the seat and blindfolded. He was going to have to play along with the scenario Guy gave him, acting it out as though whatever Guy said was happening was truly occurring. He was informed he would also score points for being humorous.

Joel was taken underwater in a submarine. He was to turn on the radio and sing along with his favorite song, which just happened to be playing at the time. He put on his best Adam Sandler impression and belted out, “I’m a little tea…pot… Short and… stout! Here is my handle, here is my spout!” We laughed our faces red, and then stayed ourselves to silence when we saw Noy approaching.with a bottle of water.

“You’re getting really hot in there. A heat wave has struck, so you decide to roll down the window,” Guy described. Joel, wrapped up in his performance, merrily rolled the invisible window down. Noy made the submarine scenario a little more realistic for Joel.

Now we all understood what would befall Robby. Naturally, we were even more excited. Robby came out after the Israelis wiped the floor down (both to make it safer for him to walk and to keep him unsuspecting). Robby’s favorite song was “What I Got” by Sublime, so everyone sang along. He got about halfway through the entire thing before Guy stopped him and asked him to roll the window down.

“What?! I’m in a sub. I can’t roll the window down.” His face worked into an expression of unfortunate understanding.

The reaction was swift and merciless. Water came cascading down his face and over his shoulders. A pool gathered beneath his shorts and around his shoes. Robby got soaked. I guess it wasn’t considered fair for him to go beyond beating Joel and beat the game itself, but it sure was funny. There were still echoing sounds of people choking on laughter and patting Robby and Joel on the back as we regrouped for the last game.

Our final activity took us outside. It required us to line up like an army troop as best we could, as quickly as we could, and in unity. After several tries and lots of thinly muffled laughter, the winners were announced and we went back inside for snacks and to get our t-shirts.

We thanked Guy and the other Israelis for putting on such a fun filled evening and went to bed.