Back among the fishies

The early bed the night before was due to tiredness and the need to be up at 5:30am to ensure being able to catch a 7:00am bus to Eilat. When I woke, my sleeping back was damp. Actually, not damp. Wet. It’s weird how it doesn’t rain here, yet things are often wet in the morning like some kind of hyperactive dew. Or maybe there’s a random madman armed with a watering can who runs around the rooftops at night.

I left my stuff indoors to dry off, grabbed my pre-packed daybag (recovered from Noa the night before and minus the Twister) and caught a local bus up to the Central Bus Station. From there, it was a comfortable 4-hour trip to Eiliat with a half-hour stop at a decent service station to break the journey up. The hostel I’d picked was only a few minutes’ walk from the station and I was glad I’d pre-booked. The usual evil “that hostel has nothing for you/is closed/has rats” brigade were out in force as I disembarked and I laughed at their now-tired arguments.

The Shelter wasn’t closed (and didn’t have rats) but also didn’t have my reservation on the books, despite me having chatted briefly with them on email. As an upshot, all the dorms were full so I had to settle for a mattress outside – for 20 Shekels less than I was quoted for the dorm. So all good! Had I known there was an outside option, I’d have gone for it anyway especially as Eilat at supposed to be quite expensive for accommodation.

The staff were super-friendly (and somewhat religious – I was invited to their Bible class at 11:00 the next day) and scoped me out a diving school for the afternoon. At $30 for a dive including all equipment hire, plus $15 for mandatory 5-day tourist dive insurance this must be one of the cheapest places in the world to SCUBA. After one of the best falafels I’ve had in Israel (from a little blue kiosk on Shderat Hatemarim) I was picked up by a chap called Alan in a converted, and somewhat well-worn, GMC ambulance and ferried to Lucky Divers.

The building was as much a cat & dog shelter as it was a dive shop. At least three cute, friendly dogs greeted me as well as Israel’s friendliest cat. And some very helpful staff who reconfirmed my flight for me when ISSTA’s website (and backup automated phone system) wouldn’t let me. They organised my insurance, decided on a dive location and we kitted up and set off.

I was one-on-one with Alan and we did a 46-minute shore dive. It’s really not necessary to get a boat out for so much of the stuff worth seeing off Eilat, and even with my depth limited to 10m with my un-housed camera (the housing is somewhere in the post on the way home) we saw so much phenomenal stuff it was amazing. Moray eels, lion fish, trigger fish, angel fish, wrass, clown fish, nudibranches… superb. Visibility was apparently “poor” despite being over 20m. It’s normally around 30m. You can duck your head underwater at the shoreline and see countless beautiful fish swimming around, but the swim out to Moses Rock is worth it for the coral alone.

Before typing this up almost a week on, I wrote the original words down in a succah at the hostel. A succah is an open-sided structure, this one made of palm tree trunks for support and branches/leaves for the room. Very sturdy and very ecological. It was filled with comfy chairs and sofas and two bookshelves chock full of Bibles in various languages. Somehow I didn’t spontaneously combust. I sat and watched kids play chase and football and “hit the small kid on the head”. All popular playground games.

I also watched the huge number of flies trying to invade my every orifice. They were hugely annoying. I don’t know why they liked my face so much. I didn’t like theirs. I decided to try to escape and went for a burger for dinner, which turned out to be a moderately OK decision. Nice burger, much too large a bun. Result: dry and chewy. Nice big chips, though. I’ll stick to falafel.

After chowing down, I went looking for an internet connection but the only convenient one was over £2 an hour. Ouch. The library is the cheapest place at 10NIS an hour, but is only open for limited hours. I decided to be cheeky and use the dive shop’s the next morning. Instead I took a walk down to “Millionaire’s Row” where all the rich people stay when visiting Eilat. I found an Irish bar, Paddy’s, with a huge Brown Ale logo painted on the side, but I fear in Israel it will be the filthy draft version which tastes like it has come out of a SodaStream. Nothing wrong with SodaStream per se, but it’s not for making beer in.

The “Row” area houses a large street market that comes to life as the sun goes down. It sells all the usual tourist claptrap, but it nice for a walk along while people-watching. The accompanying restaurants and bars are expensive, but look like a nice area to hang around with a partner or family. The guy on the bridge trying to advertise his restaurant was hilarious. I didn’t understand a word of his Hebrew, but he sounded like someone shouting “”Rrrrrroll up, rrrrollll up for the most amazingest restaurrrrant experrrrience of a lifetiiiiime!!!” or words to that effect. He certainly talked to a lot of people and handed out a ton of leaflets.

I got back to the Shelter around 20:30 to find a group of locals/guests sat in the succah playing acoustic guitar, singing and clapping. I hid on the other side of the building and cranked up the new Megadeth album on my MP3 player. I felt safer.

All quiet on the western front

Not a lot to report today. The hostel waived my “rent” for the night as I got back so late, which was nice of them. I was absolutely shattered so wasn’t realy up to much exploration. I had my usual falafel for brunch around going internet-loopy with the lovely free wireless.

Late evening, I met up with Noa and Yani for a quick beer then headed out for a couple more with some folk from the hostel. Not too many as I was still exhausted but enough to be sociable. On Zion Square, we saw a large van thumping out crappy dance music while a man who looked like the Ayatollah Khomeini bopped around. All very strange. We walked down to Stardust for the pints where my Betzefer t-shirt turned out to be a hit with the locals. And some American tourists. It seems the Israelis (and traveling middle-aged Americans) aren’t as easily shocked (or stuck up) as the Brits.

After washing my shawarma down with two pints of Gold Star, we legged it back to the hostel where I collapsed and caught up on the sleep I should have had two nights ago.

Kibbutzes, Armageddon, Betzefer and Salem

What a day this one was. And all due to the hospitality and friendliness of several Israelis I’d met in random circumstances. Despite barely sleeping the night before (I think maybe 30 mins), this would be a cracker of a day. As usual when you stay with a mate, I sat up till silly hours talking to Hen and playing with her cats until we nodded off. Then realised what time it was, tried to sort ourselves out mentally and then set off to get a bus to the town center.

On the way, I bought a plain black t-shirt as I didn’t want to trash my nice-ish shirt later on and – as mentioned – all my stuff was with Noa in Jerusalem. For 10 NIS it would do the job. We got to the central station and then onto another bus for Megiddo. Here’s an interesting fact – Megiddo is a bad translation if the Hebrew word for “Armageddon” and the valley around it is where the Final Battle is due to take place. Presumably once Bush finally flips and presses that big red button. So if you’re a journalist after some great shots, this could be your place. If you don’t mind sitting and waiting for a while. Hopefully quite a while.

We hitched the few k’s from the main road to the kibbutz entrance, and then again up into the kibbutz itself. OK, what is a kibbutz? For the long version go have a look at Wikipedia’s article. In short, it’s a collection of dwellings, sort of like a compound. The properties are built by the people who live there and most, if not all, of the facilities are co-funded and shared. They got a bad reputation when they kicked off for being very “communist”. Everything had to be shared, no major personal possessions allowed and so on. These days they seem a lot more laid back. People volunteer to travel to a country and help build and maintain the places. Hen made a lot of foreign friends this way.

We met a couple of Hen’s local friends who provided us with drinks and then walked over to her dad’s studio. He makes small sculptures for the tourist trade, all by hand and all pretty cool in an offbeat kind of way. Ice cream was provided by her parents’ fridge and we explored the surrounds. The kibbutz is well-furnished for kids with climbing frames, slides and a kick-ass new swimming pool all to play on.

Now, I didn’t mention this the other day, but when I was in the Tower museum I got talking to one of the security guards. I was wearing one of those handy-dandy limited edition MOSH tour t-shirts I had printed up before I left and he recognised the writing. We got talking about music and bands and I gave him one of my cards. Lo and behold a day or so later, I got an email detailing a few gigs he was thinking of going to including one in Haifa tonight. Megiddo’s more or less on the way (he was going to pick me up in Tel Aviv) so Hen gave him directions and my chariot arrived around 5:30pm, containing Giora, Lior and Ma’ayan. How’s that for friendly locals?

We got to Haifa early, picked up out tickets (60NIS, around £7) and I pretended I was 13 years younger so I could stand around on the street drinking beer from an off-license with a crowd averaging 21 years in age. 27 years in age if you included me. Now, drinking on the streets in Israel is not illegal, in fact it’s very common especially outside of concerts. Unlike the UK where venues always (try to) open on time or early so you’ll spend your money over the bar, Israeli ones advertise a time and then always fail to open anywhere near it.

So for the old guy staggering round with a cart and two dogs collecting empty bottles and cans, it was very much a *kerching* evening. We managed to convince him that the devil horns were a way of saying “hello” and he became a huge star as crowds of people wanted their photo taken with him! He wasn’t complaining. A bit of attention rather than just being “the scruffy guy with the cart” and a load of empties.

The doors finally opened around 90 minutes “late” and in we poured to watch Prey For Nothing, Betzefer (Hebrew for “cool”) and Salem. I picked up a Betzefer shirt with a very nice backprint that I can’t detail on this page. Suffice to say your mother wouldn’t like it. At least mine wouldn’t. Which is why it’s not going on here.

I had a great night. The music rocked, the company was great, the beer cheap and the women stunning (and far too young for me not to be morally outraged at myself). Despite the beers I also noticed something of a coincident. In Hebrew, “fire” looks like the word “LUX” in a vaguely unusual font. Lux is Latin for “light”. Weird, eh?

Prey For Nothing got a good reception for a support act and Betzefer really ruled for me. They ended with a superb cover of AC/DC‘s Thunderstruck which even Gio went mad to and he doesn’t like Betzefer. I ended up with a very large lump on my arm and another over my thumb. This is strange as anyone who’s festivalled with me in the past will know I normally get a swollen wrist. I’m sure Caz remembers my arm after Green Day at Leeds all those years ago… She spent half an hour trying to get me to go to the Red Cross as she was insistent I’d broken it.

I confess I fell asleep shortly after Salem started. Yes. Asleep. In a metal gig. I’d had less than an hour’s sleep! What I saw was good but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. Afterwards, Gio managed to get the phone number of possibly the prettiest girl in the club. Way to go, Gio! I continued my sleep thing in the car on the way back to Jerusalem, so apologies to my travel buddies for being so antisocial. I’m just old, deal with it. I have to!

We pulled up at Jaffa Gate at around 3am and I dragged my luggage-less carcass to bed/roof and collapsed.

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