19920211 – Thursday – So Sick
We were staying at the Ariel Hotel in Jerusalem and I was so sick today and not able to do much. All I did do was step outside our hotel and take a few pictures before falling back into bed again.
This was a mural on the wall of the second level of the Ariel Hotel.
And this was a plaque that was on the hotel wall also on the second level
I hate feeling sick and I began to feel sorry for myself – a stranger in a strange country. I kept thinking of the drab little flat we had looked at in Shikun Ha Misrach in Rishon Le Zion that we would soon be living in for three days. I wasn’t looking forward to it because the whole slum atmosphere of the place had “got to me,” particularly as I knew there was drug dealer living in the flat opposite, just across the landing. Never mind, I wasn’t there yet. Jeff was marvellous and looked after me relly well, particularly as he was beginning to get the ‘flu as well. My daughter Deb rang in the morning and I asked her to contact Judy and Jesia and tell them I was OK and I promptly burst into tears! Which of course was what she told Judy and Jesia, rather than that I was OK.
19920212 – Friday – Back to the Windmill Hotel
We transferred back to the Windmill Hotel and I stayed in bed there. Jeff went to the Post Office, the Chemist and to Mahane Yehuda markets and purchased lemons and fruit. He came back, feeling ill. I am beginning to feel a little better, but now Jeff is sick. He went to bed.
The view from the Hotel window.
19920213 – Saturday – The Head Waiter
The view from the window on the second floor of the Windmill Hotel. I could also see Mt Moriah Hoel from my window in the Windmill Hotel. We had pretty well wasted two days of our holiday because we were both so sick. The Windmill Hotel apart from our bedroom was what we mainly saw on these two days, but that wasn’t so bad. the Maitre Dis whose name was Mahommet Abid Al Rahim Esbitan had taken to me, and he looked after me so well. He waited on me at breakfast time so that I only had to sit at a table and he brought everything to me so I didn’t have to go to the smorgsborg tables to get food. He brought me lemon juice drinks with honey, in fact he thoroughly spoiled me, but in spite of all his care, all I could eat for breakfast was three prunes and some yoghurt. I lost 2.5 k. BEFORE i left Australia, due to stress – goodness knows how much I have lost now. I really can’t handle cigarette smoke. There were some Arab men in the lounge today who I am sure must have been smoking camel dung!
This is Elina Tchabkerich, a Russian waitress at the Windmill Hotel. She lives in Ramot Eshcol, Jerusalem. The most I did today was to talk to Elina at the coffee bar in the foyer of the Hotel. Elina is very homesick for Russia. Her family were very well off in Russia and had to leave everything behind. She did a degree in Russian literature which is of no value to her in Israel. She does not like the Jewish culture – “All they know of literature,” she says “is the Torah.” She is 26 years old and has a 5-year old son. Her husband is not Jewish. Could it be that the Israeli Jews are justified in saying that the Russian immigrant is usually middle class and complains about everything?
19930215 – Monday – Bethlehem
We caught a Sherrut (small bus) to Tel Aviv, Lud Airport to meet our son James and wife Colleen who were coming in today. Joe Sedeh from Keren Hayesod told us that Jim and Colleen’s plane had come in 1 hour early, so they were leaving Tel Aviv just as we were coming in. Jeff was not pleased, he had wanted to be able to see them and to go to Bethlehem with them.
Bethlehem stands on a ridge on the edge of the Judaean Desert just south of Jerusalem
At 3 pm the Maitre Dis, Mahommed, drove Jeff and I to Bethlehem. Before we left we went back to our rooms and found Jim and Colleen’s backpacks in our room but they were nowhere to be found – so we went without them to Bethlehem. Mahommed drove like a true Arab! He sits on the horn for little or no reason and shakes his fist at offending motorists. I was glad I had made a new will before I left home!
This photo is of the Church of lactation!! Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? It is supposed to be the place where Mary’s milk “came in” and she fed the baby Jesus. I wonder why they don’t have a church to celebrate Jesus’ first dirty nappy? I hte the edifices they erect over these so-called “holy places.” They have absolutely nothing to do with the events that actually happened in this or that particular spot anyway. However, my viewpoint is not shared by most of the Christian bus tour tourists I met in Israel. They very happily “Church hop” and if they managed to carry a cross on the Via Dela Rosa and put on a Passion Play or two, then they are more than happy. It is certainly NOT this Israel that I came to see!! And my viewpoint is not shared by the avaricious priests and monks that sit like big black spiders with their hands out in these places – growing fat and sleek on the “donations” of the converted.
I am a Christian, but the Gospel of the Kingdom of God and the Name of Jesus Christ is what I believe, but it is mine to believe and to give, and that giving must be without money and without price.
Interior of the Basilica of the Nativity – 1st erected by Constantine and 2nd by Justinian.
The artwork and gold and silver and inlaid work and jewels here in this Chuch at Bethlehem are amazing. An absolute fortune has been invested here. It is amazing how much wealth there is when a church “fleeces its flock.” Great riches have been poured into this place though it has a distinct “tinselly” look. However, it was interesting – a little TOO interesting in fact. Mahommed, our driver and the kind Maitre Dis and Head Waiter of the Windmill Hotel, who has looked after me so well, kept ushering me into parts of the Church away from the tourists and taking hold of my hand or putting his arm around my shoulders.
I looked to Jeff to rescue me, but he was oblivious to my dilemma. He was happily videoing and recording his descriptions. So I was on my own. I wondered wht Mahommed would look like with a black eye? but Bethlehem is not the place to get on the wrong side of an Arab, and be left without a ride home. So I took lots of photos which helped to keep him at arms length and brought me back into the areas where there were lots of tourists.
The Last Supper
I wonder if these could be worn as necklaces
There so many works of art.
There are so many works of art. Thousands of artists and workmen must have worked on this place, and the wealth that has gone into it is simply incalculable. I wonder how many “bodies and souls of men” have also gone into its building? Someone had to pay for it all, that’s for sure!
Jeff videoing and giving a commentary at the same time.
This particular group of people had a guide who was giving them a “potted” talk on the history of the Church and about the artwork in the Church. She faltered in her tale because she was listening to what Jeff had to say as he was videoing. In the end, she just stopped talking at all and she and her group all just listened to Jeff’s commentary. When he had finished, she said, “Don’t stop, you know much more about it than I do.”
There were lots of little nooks and crannies with altars and paintings or wall carvings.
Fay and Jeff.
Jeff and Fay – photo taken by Mahommed. Behind us is a painting of Mary, lactating, I suppose!
Mahommed Abid Al Rahim Esbitan the Matre Dis drove us to Bethlehem
Mahommed Abid Al Rahim Esbitan, Head Waiter at the Windmill Hotel took us to see the Church of Lactation at Bethlemen in his car which had Arab number plates. I certainly felt safer in a car with Arab number plates. After we left the Church, we were descended upon by all the Arab vendors of jewellery etc. They were very aggressive and I was glad that Mahommed was there to tell them to leave us alone. However, we found we had not escaped! Mahommed took us to an Arab factory where he obviously expected us to buy – and he probably would get a 10% commission on anything we purchased.
Mahommed took us to an Arab cafe to try his favorite delicacy. I hated it.
Mahommed took us to an Arab cafe where he bought us a dessert he said was his favorite. He assured us we would love it . It was some sort of melted cheese wrapped in the fine strands of sugar or pasta and dusted with something red (it looked like paprika but was not). It was awful – Yuk! or maybe Yak? Jim and Colleen were at the Windmill Hotel when we got back. They had gone for a walk around Jerusalem before we left to go to Bethlehem.
