The Negev.... dun dun dun….

I would call this the first day in Egypt, but really, it’s just the first day driving to Egypt. Left really early in the morning, 6:00 to be exact, which I guess I shouldn't say is so early seeing as Dad always had us get up at 4:00 a.m. for our adventures into the wilderness. But it wasn't long until we were heading down the road which led us south out of Jerusalem and into the fields of central Israel.

Though I tried valiantly not to, I spent a large part of this drive sleeping uncomfortably in our oversized bus with undersized seats. Fortunately, it was only about two hours before we arrived at our first stop, Beersheba.

If the name doesn't sound familiar to you, you're a poor Old Testament scriptorian. This is not only the place where Abraham lived, naming it Beer-sheba because it means both "seven wells" and "oath" (he took an oath with the local king that assured him the right to that land), but it is also the place where Jacob lived when Joseph was taken into Egypt, and where Jacob left from when he was called to come to Egypt by Joseph who was by this time the second in command.

On top of all this ancient patriarchal stuff, this was a major city during the divided monarchy (when there was the state of Israel and the separate state of Judah--this is just before the fall of the kingdom of Israel in the north). They had a temple there, whether pagan or not I'm not sure, but which was dismantled by King Josiah. From stones archeologists found throughout the site, they reconstructed the altar which was built there and a replica sits in the entrance to Beersheba. It’s a beautiful alter made of white stone with the famous stone horns on the four corners representing a bull who is the symbol of strength.

I took several pictures with me holding the horns of the altar in the manner that people seeking sanctuary in ancient days did. That's actually what the pretended king at the time of Jeremiah did trying to preserve his life after a failed coup of the kingdom. He was eventually killed at the altar. So basically, it was pretty much rad. Oh, also, Beersheba is the traditional southern end of the kingdom of Israel, with Dan at the northern end.

As soon as we left, we were no longer in the land of milk and honey but in the wilderness which Elijah famously wandered through: the Negev. That drive was fascinating because it was immediately apparent that we were leaving the fertile plain and entering what they call here the "steppe," or basically, slightly hilly land which is essentially desert except for some plants that are enough to support animals but not agriculture.

The Bedouin are the people of this land. They are in a very strange situation because the state of Israel is determined to find something to do with them. It is very difficult for a first world, highly bureaucratic country to figure out what to do with nomads. If they're not on the same land all the time, how can they be controlled, taxed and how can the government be assured that they're acting lawfully and not intruding on other people's land? This conundrum has led to a strange half citizen status for the local Bedouins, where the government builds settlements for them which allow for their children to attend a permanent school, but they don't have access to running water and (frequently) electricity. The water question is the biggest though, and has created a great deal of strife between the peoples.

As we drove, I looked out of the window to the desert in the east, and watched the Bedouin tents flash past. There were a surprising amount of them, as well as random dogs, children and sheep. Their tents are no longer made out of hardy, homespun fabrics, but largely of plastic and highly degenerative tarps. It’s a very strange clash of the old and new to see such a fabric formed into a structure as ancient as the Bedouin form of a tent--basically poles holding up a high roof, sides which are rolled up and down as doors and only two or three sheets falling through the center roof to create flimsy rooms. From what I could see of the tents with their walls rolled up, there is little furniture other than decorative rugs.

I'm not quite sure if we had a stop between Beersheba and Avdat, but since I don't remember it, it mustn’t have been very memorable. I'll therefore skip to Avdat which was by far one of the coolest sites we've been to.

Now we were definitely in the desert. Greenery had all but disappeared and everything was a monochromatic orangish-tan. This mostly flat, rocky desert shot off flat on both sides of us, rocketing up to mountains of the same make in the distance. On the bus, people were passing through phases of fitful slumber, quiet conversation and irritatingly raucous group discussions mostly centered at the back of the bus. Occasionally, someone would stand up to do a "spotlight" where they read information from a form we all filled out about ourselves, and then had a question and answer period about the person being spotlighted. Those moments were occasionally entertaining, but I preferred the reverie the monotonous landscape drew me into.
Avdat soon came into sight as an extremely impressive, gigantic, fortress-like city on a hilltop, built in the same stone as the surrounding land. I stared at it as we passed, wondering if this was one of the places they were planning on taking us and, to my joy, the bus took one of its preposterously wide turns onto a thin road that lead up the mountain to the city. When we disembarked, I ran around gleefully in the remarkably well-preserved city. Quite a bit of it had been reconstructed, but most of it was in its natural, degenerated state. It amazed me that some of the things which were most preserved were the arches. While the walls they supported had fallen, the single row of blocks of the arch would stand as solidly as ever-- a testament to the power of combining compression and tension. It also reminded me of the keystone analogy of the church. Not only is the keystone necessary for the existence of the arch, but with it in a completed arch, it was stronger than all the thick, high walls surrounding it.

This city had been mostly built by a people called the Nabeteans (I think I may have spoken of them before) but they are pretty much one of the most awesome people ever to live. They were based in Petra, Jordan; in fact, they were the creators of the city of Petra which we're going to visit in about a month. Accordingly, this huge complex not only had buildings above ground, but houses carved into the mountainside which I, unfortunately (due to time constraints) only had a couple minutes to glance at. But up at the top of the hill, I walked through a fortress made by the Romans who took over after the Nabeteans left, and from the top was able to see the entirety of Avdat as well as the valley.

From the fortress, we ran down to the “keep,” or castle-like area on the opposite side of the hill (which I can't recall who built it. I'll look it up later, but it was either the Romans or the Byzantines or both.) The Byzantines certainly built part of it because they had their church in one corner, with the cross shaped baptistry still intact.

We wandered around for quite some time, taking some stunning pictures in the gorgeous light which reflected off of the stone walls and using the arches as frames for the desert.
Unfortunately, before I was able to see the Roman tombs and wine presses, we had to leave. It was quite disappointing to go. I really hope I get the opportunity to go back there someday. As far as tels go, that was by far the best I've seen.

When we left Avdat, our next stop was at a National Park building where we watched a video in an extremely hot and stuffy theater about a massive, tectonic plate-made crater which we were about to enter. From there, we ran up to the top of the museum which explained more about the creation of the crater and came to the overlook of the valley. Though it was spectacular, it wasn't as stunning as some of the views I'd seen earlier in the day.

Which reminds me of what it was we did between Beersheba and Avdat, and, to my chagrin, it actually was an important event.

We went to the grave of David Ben-Gurion, the first prime minister of Israel. It overlooks the Negev desert in one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever seen in my life. We talked for a while about Ben-Gurion's part in the creation of Israel, and after we were finished, I got into a really interesting conversation with one of our tour agents who was on the trip with us about Israel. She was born in Holland, but she moved to Israel to live in a kibbutz even though she isn't Jewish, and through a period of years, became fluent in Arabic, married an Arab and converted to Islam. She was very interesting because she said that he had a really hard time being at the grave of the man she considered to be the culprit for the destruction of her adopted country. Her husband, who was with her, agreed.

Anyway, after we left the crater, we went to tour a kibbutz before we went to a different kibbutz to spend the night. This first kibbutz is much more commercial than kibbutz's traditionally are, but our guide explained why later. She came onto the bus in one of the most immodest outfits I've seen in Israel-- it was really rather shocking after becoming so accustomed to people being more modest than I in my daily clothing. It was quickly apparent that the reason for this kibbutz is the culture of Judaism and not the religion. She rode on the bus with us as we toured their farms and housing areas. They grow dates and things like corn and yams, but according to her, the ground has more salt than wanted so their crop output is much less than it should be. About 20 or 30 years ago, they added a dairy aspect to their kibbutz, which was a big deal because it is not easy to have cows in the desert for milking purposes. But they did it, after much persuasion of the Ministry of Commerce, and now their industry is thriving.

Our tour guide was fluent in English and Hebrew, as her parents had emigrated to the kibbutz from the U.S. before she was born. She discussed life on a kibbutz in length, and let me tell you, the idea of never having to pay bills or buy food or clothing or anything is mighty appealing when you are just starting life on your own. We discussed the upsides and downsides of this system in length and she explained that the system works mostly because they're able to pick the people who live at the kibbutz, so they can almost assure that the person isn't simply going to leach from the system. People can volunteer at a kibbutz for up to three months with everything paid for them. Just saying.

We had a delicious dinner there and then traveled to another kibbutz twenty minutes up the road which had the ability to house us. The room was spartan and comfortable, but we got there too early to go to bed but too late to really do anything (as it was dark everywhere). After unsuccessfully trying to play a game of soccer with the kibbutz kids (they were reluctant to allow girls in their game) and talking to people about random things for almost an hour, I went to bed.

We had an eight hour drive across the Sinai in the morning and an evening in our hotel in Cairo.

Coming Next: the Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx, Memphis and something-or-other-else which I have to look up.