Stone steps greet my weary feet once again, while the sun keeps up its constant beaming from above, pounding on my hat and searing my skin. The bag on my back, though small, irritates me from long companionship, and the camera that produces the pictures I so love is an annoyance. My senses are overloaded and my brain is full. It's been another full day of touring the Holy Land.
From Dan to Beer-Sheva, and Caesarea (Maritime) to En-Giev, we've covered this land. We swam in the Sea of Galilee and bobbed in the Dead Sea (this latter event so comical I couldn't stop giggling at the curious situation of lying on top of the water). We've surveyed archeological digs both old and new, gathered smooth stones from the Brook of Elah where David did so to the great chagrin of Goliath, and drove to the military installations along the borders of the Golan Heights. We passed through the Palestinian checkpoint at Jericho where the soldier there (Palestinian) was watering flowers. I've seen the Israeli soldiers, many of them young girls with cute pony-tails bouncing down the backs of their uniforms, toting AR 15 machine guns as if they were shopping bags. We have pushed through crowded, narrow market streets while the Muslim call to prayer boomed loudly from speakers mounted to minarets high above. I've seen monks in their brown robes with white ropes, nuns in their hobbits, and beggars of several faiths.