Messing with the Middle East - Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Cyprus, West Bank & Israel

Dec 1996/ Jan 1997

Thursday December 12th

Preparing for the trip, it had cost £18 for an Egyptian visa, £35 for the Syrian and £48 for a multiple visa to Jordan. We were flying El Al on the 10.30pm. flight Israeli Airlines, and bad news on security searches. There was a three hour check in period and we were to need it. Arriving at Terminal One, it was strange to see armed policemen and dogs patrolling. El Al had separate security arrangements. When we arrived a tough looking Israeli woman in her 20s grilled us about our trip. Where we were going, where we were staying, did we know anyone anywhere, had we packed our own bags, were we carrying anything for anybody. The questions were to prompt responses both verbally and physically. As she scanned our passports, she saw the Syrian visas. "We are war with these people. Why do you want to go there?". I wanted to say "to escape bloody expensive Israel", but I kept quiet. Since we were flying to Israel, onto Egypt, into Jordan and Syria and back into Israel, they obviously thought we were suspicious, especially since we had virtually empty backpacks. "Why are you carrying so little?". "Because we have to carry it around for a month. We are backpacking!"

She summoned supervisors who scanned us and our passports. "Please follow us". We were getting a second grilling. What followed for the next 45 minutes was the most intensive search of my luggage anywhere. Everything was taken out of our bags and spread over a counter. Every film canister was opened, every container, toothpaste tube squeezed. Various items were taken away and put through the x-ray machine. They gave us coffee while we chatted. We had nothing to hide, so it was just a case of being patient. Finally, they gave up. They looked appalled at the second hand luggage we were taking. Apart from our cameras, we had nothing of value. They gave us £4 in drinks vouchers for our trouble. Even when we got through that, there were two more X-ray machines to go through, a body search both manually and by hand held scanner., and endless passport and ticket inspections. It was very through and very boring.

By the time we reached airside, we had just enough time to spend the drinks vouchers and then boarded the plane (another passport and ticket cheque on the plane). The night left about 10.45pm and we settled in with ou guidebooks. We had to research on the run. I slept through most of the flight but remember a decent dinner including smoked salmon and free wine.

Friday December 13th - Tel Aviv, Israel & Cairo, Egypt

We touched down in Tel Aviv about 5am. It was a small airport. Surprisingly, there were no security checks when we arrived. Our plan was to find a flight to Cairo. Failing that, we would go to the bus station and take a long bus ride there. Fortunately, Air Sinai was open for business and they had seats on a midday flight to Cairo. At £92 a seat, it was expensive, but it included the $20 Israeli departure tax, and saved us a day/night on a bus. Having booked that, we changed money and decided to explore downtown Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv is Israeli's largest metropolis (340,000 pop) and its financial and business centre. It is a large urban sprawl of connecting suburbs. The centre is 6 km long and one km wide running parallel to the sea. It was raining. We found a bus stop and even then, a security guard checked that the backpacks were ours as he walked past, a local woman waiting with us confirmed their ownership. The bus ride took us down town and dropped us near the Carmel Market between Allenby Rd and HaYarkon St, cutting into the Yemenite Quarter. We didn't really know if there was much to see, and since it was so early, nothing would be open anyway.

Tel Aviv looked dull and non descript in the rain. The market was just opening - mostly fruit and veg, and no cafes. The variety and size of produce impressed us, but the streets were flooded. It was the first rain in two months. We found the beach which had good sand, but the area was really rundown. An old man was doing his exercises on the windy beach and ran into what looked like a freezing sea. We wanted to have breakfast by the sea. Nothing was open and we were frozen and soaked. Then the downpour continued and we were stranded under any shelter we could find. It was too miserable to continue, and we waited for an bus near the Ambassade Hotel to get us back to the airport. I was hardly taken by my first images of Israel.

When we went to check in at the airport, we had another series of security check questions by another young woman. Again, they were not happy with the Syrian visa. "Why didn't you fly to Cairo direct?" "Because it was cheaper to fly to Tel Aviv return and get the extra flight". Why are you going to Syria? etc. Why did you leave the airport? Where did you go? Did you talk to anyone?. Did anyone give you anything to carry? Listen lady, we couldn't even get a cup of coffee, let alone a bomb. We were familiar with the questions and also gave her answers before the questions left her month. "It is just procedure" she said. We know. Ever since we left, we have had security checks. She also consulted her supervisors who decided against a soaked backpack search. But they hadn't liked us leaving the airport.

The midday flight to Cairo was about an hour. We went straight through immigration. After changing money, we got a bus downtown, which dropped us at the Midan Tahrir - a major junction in the heart of the city. Cairo was heaving with traffic, dust, horns. It was loud, dirty and disorganized, but at least it was much hotter than Tel Aviv. At Midan Tehrir, we found the Ismaelia Hostel on the 8th floor of a run down building. An old cranky iron lift takes you up and down. The hostel was convenient and cheap. Much cheaper than the Nile Hilton across the square. We got a double room for £4 each with a grubby bathroom nearby. But it would do. It was after 3pm when we started to explore.

RG "The twin streams of Egypt's history converge just below the Delta at Cairo, where the greatest city in the Islamic world sprawls across the Nile towards the Pyramids, those supreme monuments of antiquity. We had come to witness the seething immensity of Cairo, with its bazaars, mosques, Citadel and extraordinary Antiquities Museum. Cairo's density, climate and pollution conspire against it and the culture shock is equally wearing " The Cairenes that we met, however, turned out to be warm, good natured city dwellers. They have to be to live in such a pressure cooker without exploding. Cairo has been the largest city in Afkica and the Middle east since the 13C. and the current population weighs in at around 18 million.

The dust, crowds, traffic, and noise were indeed a real culture shock after sleepy Tel Aviv. We caught a bus down to the Khan el-Khalili bazaar. The bus driver would accept no money, but chatted in pigeon English, as we stood beside him on the crowded bus, telling us that he had a friend in Northampton and where could he meet a "nice Ingleesh girl" to marry? The Khan el-Khalili forms the commercial heart of Islamic Cairo as it has since the Middle Ages. Everything from spices to silk is sold in its bazaars in a compact area. We strolled around the bustling alleyways and browsed the stalls. The Egyptian football team was playing in Cairo that afternoon, and crowds of people huddled around tiny portable or black and white TVs throughout the market. Cheers or groans would ring out as we walked around. . Since we were intending to buy souvenirs in Syria, we did not get bogged down in haggling for anything, and most people were too preoccupied with the football to bother us. We were trying to walk towards the old Islamic centre, but it was dark by 5pm and we were content just to ramble around the markets. At one mosque where we tried to get directions from locals who spoke no English, men would lift up their gowns, flash Jo and laugh. Another loose western woman had arrived in Cairo. We found a bakery that did a selection of cheap syrupy pastries. A bag of those and a cheap kebab was a sufficient dinner. We ended up walking back to the hostel through areas of western shops.

We explored the area around Midan Tehrir. The Cairo Museum was right on it. A local latched on to us, chatting and eventually leading us back to his shop to see Papyrus products. We backed out gracefully. The scam in Cairo was to buy duty free for the locals. On two occasions, people would say that they had a wedding to attend and would we buy duty free which they could purchase. Eventually, we retired to the hostel, glad to escape the city's incessant noise. It had been a long first day.

Saturday December 14th - Cairo

Included in our £4 room was a basic breakfast of egg, bread and tea. (beyd,aish, shai). The hostel owner was friendly, and he organised day trips to the Pyramids for £3 each. It was cheap enough to be lazy. At 8.30am, we assembled with two Danish girls, a Korean man and an Australian and got into a taxi, driven by a fat, amicable man called Magdil who did the trip daily. We were driven across to Giza along the 11km long Sharia al-Ahram (Pyramids Road), and dumped (predictably) at a Papyrus factory. We passed on it. Nearby was a stable where we haggled for horses. It was £10 for an hour around the Pyramids, the minimum ride, rising to £25 for the entire area. I was reluctant because I was here to explore the sites and the horses looked too small for me anyway. We backed out of the haggling and walked around the corner to the entrance, leaving the others to do the £15 tour. With student discount, it was an incredibly cheap £2 entrance fee each.

The Rough Guide to Eygpt said "For millions of people the pyramids epitomize ancient Egypt; no other monument is so instantly recognized the world over. Yet few know that there are over 80 pyramids spread across 70km from the outskirts of Cairo southwards. The Pyramid Age began at Saqquara in the 27C BC. Their enigma has puzzled people ever since. Archaeologists now agree that the pyramids' function was to preserve the pharaoh's ka, or double: a vital force which emanated from the sun-god to his son, the king, who distributed it amongst his subjects and the land of Egypt itself.. Mummification, funerary rituals, false doors for his ba (soul) to escape, anniversary offerings - all were designed to ensure that his ka enjoyed an afterlife similiar to its former existence. They were eventually plundered and the rulers of the New Kingdom, centuries later, opted for hidden tombs in the Valley of the Kings".

RG "Of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world, only the Pyramids of Giza have withstood the ravages of time. As site plans suggest, the pyramids orientation is no accident. Their entrances are aligned with the Polar Star (or rather its position 4500 years ago); the internal tomb chambers face west, the direction of the Land of the Dead; and the external funerary temples point eastwards towards the rising sun". Far from being isolated in the desert as carefully angled photos suggest, they rise just beyond the outskirts of Giza City. During daytime, hordes of touts and tourists dispel any lingering mystique. Check out the "Rough Guide to Eygpt" for detailed explainations. There is no point in me repeating them here. As we entered the site, the imposing Sphinx sat in the forefront of the two large pyramids. There were dozens of horses available, and Jo haggled for the best she could find for an initial £4 ride. She rode off with her escort and I arranged to meet her at the Pyramid of Cheeps which is the oldest and largest of the Giza pyramids.

Called the "Glorious Place of Khufu" by the ancient Egyptians. It stands at about 140m and measures 230m along its base. Estimated to weigh six million tons, this gigantic mass actually ensures its stability, since most of the stress is transmitted inwards towards its central core, or downwards into the underlying bedrock. The pyramid contains three chambers: one in the bedrock and two in the superstructure. The guidebook was right about the stuffiness. The ascending chamber was hot and airless, especially as we were forced to walk hunched over so that our hands almost touched the floor. It was very dusty, and there was no maneuvering space to let anyone pass, so groups of people took turns to negotiate the passage.

Reunited with her horse, Jo rode off towards the desert horizon to get panoramic shots of the entire site with the three large pyramids and half dozen smaller models. I walked around the area, turned down many offers of a camel ride, and we met up at the Pyramid of Chephren (Khafre). Jo's horse had nearly lost a horseshoe during the return gallop and it would no longer be able to carry her. She paid her escort and tipped him well, instructing him to get the horseshoe fixed immediately. A group of schoolgirls asked to have their photo taken with Jo and the horses. The site was filling up with Egyptian schoolchildren on excursions.

Sited on higher ground, with an intact summit and steeper sides, the middle or Second Pyramid, seems taller than Khufu's. Built by his son Khafre, its base originally covered 215 square metres. The original rock hewn burial chamber was never finished and an upper chamber was subsequently constructed. When the pyramid was opened in 1818 by Belzoni, he found it had already been robbed of all treasures. We followed an entry corridor downwards, then upwards into a long horizontal passage leading to his burial chamber. Belzoni celebrated its discovery by writing his name in large black letters (still visible). The long corridor was smaller and even more stifling than the first pyramid. It was hard to breathe.

We strolled over to look at the third Pyramid ofMycerinus (Menkaure). Sited on a gradual slope into undulating desert, the last and smallest of the Giza pyramids bespeaks of waning power and commitment. It was built quickly, and in the 12C a sultan attempted (unsuccessfully) to demolish it, so it has shrunk further. The entrance was closed but we had been fortunate to see inside the larger two.

We walked back down the hill through throngs of schoolchildren to Chephren's Funerary Complex and the Sphinx. The funerary complex is the best preserved example of this typically old Kingdom arrangement. When a pharaoh died, his body was ferried across the Nile to a temple for embalming. His mummy was then escorted up the causeway to a funerary (or mortuary) temple, where further rites preceded its internment within the pyramid. The present day funerary temple consisted of a pillared hall, central court and a sanctuary. There were also the foundations of the 400m causeway, running down to the hill, near the Sphinx.

The Sphinx is a legendary monument, carved from an outcrop of soft limestone that was left standing after the harder surrounding stone was quarried for the Great Pyramid. The name "sphinx" was actually bestowed by the ancient Greeks, after the legendary creature that put riddles to passers by and slew those who answered wrongly. It was used for target practice by Napoleon's troops. It looked very small against the backdrop of the Pyramids, but majestic just the same.

We walked back to meet the others, and persuaded Magdi to drive us down to the scant remains of Memphis in the village of Mit Rahina. It rose in power when Upper and Lower Egypt were united in 3100BC. Memphis was Egypt's capital throughout the Old Kingdom and retained power even when Thebes became capital of the New Kingdom. Alas, for posterity, most of this garden city was built of mudbrick and returned to the Nile silt whence it came. The small museum there had numerous leftover statues and stelae.

Whilst Memphis was the capital of the Old Kingdom, Egypt's royalty and nobility were buried at Saqquara, the limestone scarp that flanks the Nile Valley to the west - the traditional direction of the Land of the Dead. It is also the site of the very first pyramid. While the others visited a carpet factory, we asked Magdi to take us up to the site for a close up of the "step" pyramid. When Imhotep, King Zoser's chief architect raised the pyramid around 2700 BC, it was the largest structure ever built in stone. Before it was stripped of its casing stones and rounded off by the elements , Zoser's pyramid stood 62 metres high. Surrounding the pyramid is an extensive funerary complex. We drove up for a quick look and returned to pick up the others.

It was after 3.30pm and we had finished the tour. Magdi drove us back to Giza and up to the Midan Tehrir. The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities was still open for another hour, so we decided to do the Tutankhamun exhibition. RG "The museum feels almost as archaic as the civilisation it records. Founded in 1858, if you spent one minute on each item, it would take nine months to cover the 100,000 exhibits (not counting those in storage)". It is one of the greatest museums in the world and again with student discounts it was only a £2 entry. We paid extra to view room 52 which displays 15 of the museum's 25 royal mummies, including Ramses II. The bony skeletons with dried skin and bandages gave them an eerie look and you half expected them to come to life and a bony claw to smash the glass case and grab you by the throat. The Tutankahamun Galleries were on the first floor and we virtually had the entire collection to ourselves. It was extensive, filling a dozen rooms with 1700 items. The guidebook covers everything we saw. I remember the media fuss when the collection was exported to England in 1973 and the queues to see it. Now, it almost seemed an ordinary museum collection, until you reached the rooms containing the gold, funerary mask and coffins. Simply staggering in beauty and ornateness. In the empty rooms, the young guards were restless as the museum got ready to close. I was challenged to an arm wrestling competition and failed to hold the body builder' s strength. The collection was a fitting end to the day of viewing some of the world's wonders.

It was dark when we left the museum. We walked to the taxi rank outside the Hilton. We had to go to the Sinai bus station to enquire on buses going to the Sinai. You had to go there in person which was a real pain since no local buses actually stopped there. We haggled with two taxi drivers who then argued between themselves over the price. It was only £2. We did not know how far it was. The taxi driver drove us north east out of thecentre, through traffic jams to an area in complete darkness. When we stopped, I thought we were getting dumped in the middle of nowhere, so that we would have to pay more to get us out ofthere. There was no bus station in sight. There was, but there was a power cut and there were no lights. We were escorted through a hut into a tiny compound where a ticket office had a candle. There was a bus going nightly at 11pm and so we booked up for the following evening. It was about £11 for a 8 hour trip in a deluxe bus.

Outside the bus station, in complete darkness, we searched in vain for a bus stop (since I always believe in trying to get a bus rather than a taxi - it takes longer, but is more adventurous). Not a chance. We were reduced to getting another taxi back into the centre. After a shower, we explored the Midan Tehrir area for cafes and found a pizza restaurant. There was actually a Pizza Hut and a McDonalds near our hostel, but it avoided them on principle. This was an Egyptian pizza place. We ordered large pizzas which came with everything, including, interestingly, the base stuffed mincemeat and lots of peppers on top. They were delicious and only cost &2 each. We changed more money at the Hilton Hotel (to see how the other halflived). It was after 10pm by the time we got back to the hostel and we were exhausted. Cairo never stopped. We learnt that when you crossed the road, and you saw a car speeding towards you, you just kept walking. If you stopped or hesitated, you just confused the driver. If you kept walking, he could guess where to point the car. This exercise became especially interesting when three cars came at you from different directions.

Sunday December 15th - Cairo

The Museum did not open until 9am and this time it was heaving with tour groups. We wanted to cover the entire museum and it would take us an exhausting 4 hours. The guidebook covers what we saw. I found the mummy coffins fascinating. There were rooms and corridors of them. The Museum was cluttered, but seemed quite spacious with its Victorian design. I also found the mummified animals very weird - cats, dogs, birds, alligators. I also revisited the King Tut gold rooms. The Museum had been one of my two reasons to visit Cairo and it did not let me down in wonderful artifacts.

Jo wanted to seek out the Brook Horse Hospital. She had a telephone number (which was wrong) and an address. We caught a packed local bus to Giza. The streets were also crowded with people. We were the only obvious tourists and locals stared and laughed at us. Young boys pinched Jo's bottom and ran off. We attempted to ask people where the address was. Noone could understand us or the address. After walking a mile through painful traffic and pedestrians, we stopped a taxi and asked him to take us there. It turned out that he didn't know where it was and stopped at a pet shop and asked for directions. After about half an hour, we were no nearer to finding it. He stopped to talk to someone who told us that the address was wrong and that it did not exist.

We were only a couple of kilometres from the pyramids and it was an hour or so to sunset. We decided to cut our losses and go and revisit the Pyramids since it would be dark by the time we got back into the centre. As we drove near to the site, young men would try and stop the taxi and become our 'guides'. One hung on to the roof for dear life for half a mile. We explained to the taxi driver that we had been here before and did not need a guide. He warned off any other speculators.

We walked into the site from the top this time, for different views of the pyramids, and different colours as the sun dropped behind the desert. The site was pretty empty of tourists, and most of the horses had disappeared. It seemed more relaxed than yesterday. The monuments turned wonderful colours. It was tempting to illegally climb one of them in the dusk. As we left the site, the first tour buses arrived for the Light and Sound show. We attempted to find a bus to take us back to the centre. While we waited we ate delicious vegetarian kebabs at a local stall, going back for seconds. Locals found it strange that a couple of tourists would eat at their stalls instead of the tourist restaurants. My last sight of the pyramids was the Sphinx looking down on us majestically almost to say "you cannot touch us or the times we represent".

The bus took us back to the Midan Tehrir through the Cairo rush hour. Very slow, but at least we had seats on the way back. We had time to burn. Since it was dark, there was no point in visiting the Islamic section, so we rested at the Nile Hilton. Returning to the hostel, we had a cup of tea, chatted to the owner and picked up our backpacks. We knew where to catch a bus to the airport. It would supposedly pass by the Bus Station. An hour later, we found ourselves at the airport. We had missed our stop. The bus driver had never indicated where we should get out. Slight panic. It was 10pm and our bus left in an hour. We attempted to ask passengers on other buses if they were heading towards the bus station. Blank stares. Finally, we realised that the buses did not go to the bus station, but passed in the vicinity. We climbed aboard the same bus heading back and told othe passengers to tell us where to get out. When we did, another male passenger accompanied us and insisted on walking us to the bus station - about 15 minutes away. We were very grateful. We arrived with ten minutes to spare. At least the station had electricity tonight. It was a deluxe bus. We had seats at the front. I fell asleep soon after the first video started.

Monday December 16tb - St Catherine's Monastry and Mount Sinai

The sun had did not rise until we were nearly at Nuweiba. The desert landscape was a real surprise. We rolled into the ferry port town around 5am and were dropped outside the port. There was a vast waiting room for ferry passengers. Very basic, but since it was dark, and everyone else was there, we had a nap until something opened.

When we awoke, people were lined up ready to be processed even though the boat was not due to leave until probably midday. Someone had set up their tea stall, so we had some and I explored the dirty surroundings. A couple of camels scavenged around the piles of litter that lay everywhere, attempting to eat rotten fruit inside plastic bags. I was trying to find where the 7am bus left for St Catherines, but noone could tell me. Different people had different times. Most thought that there was only an afternoon bus. Taxi drivers offered to take us at horrendous prices. The port was stuck out on its own, away from the town centre a few miles away, so people had to use taxis to get in and out. We found out that the bus station was near the town centre.

Our method of haggling with taxi drivers was to walk, and when they stopped and gave us a price, we would laugh and walk on. Eventually a driver settled on £2 which was still way above the local rate, but it got to the bus station. There was no life. The sun was rising rapidly and it was already getting hot. We decided that we might as well walk half a mile to the main road and try and hitch or flag down a bus. Within 5 minutes of attempting to hitch, a luxurious bus pulled up. It was a German tour party. They were going to St Catherine's. We quietly negotiated with the courier and driver and settled on £5 each to take us there. We sat at the back, while the courier gave his talk in German. A German girl sitting next to us would translate everything. It was very comfortable, but very sterile to travel through the roaring heat of the Sinai in an air-conditioned bus.

RG "The Sinai peninsula has been the gateway between Africa and Asia and a battleground for millennia. Prized for its strategic position and mineral wealth, Sinai is also revered by disparate cultures as the site of God's revelation to Moses, the wanderings of Exodus and the flight of the Holy Family. It is the supposed route by which the Israelites reached the Promised Land and Islam entered North Africa, then a theatre for Crusader-Muslim and Arab-Israeli conflicts, and finally transformed into an internationally monitored demilitarized zone. Though mostly wilderness, Sinai looks far too dramatic, and too beautiful to be dismissed as 24,000 square mile of nothing. The south of the peninsula is an arid moonscape of jagged ranges harbouring Mount Sinai and Saint Catherine's Monastery. The interior is a baking wildemess of jagged rocks drifting sand and wind scoured grave pans, awesomely beautiful in its desolation".

The scenery was wonderful. Vast landscapes of sand and rocks. The occasional plant or tree. Camels roaming around, a few with babies. The colours changed with every turn. There had obviously been some heavy rainfall two months before, because the river gullies were fresh. Halfway to St Catherine's, the bus stopped at a small Bedouin market, where kids sold quartz rocks and trinkets. We were not interested, but it was interesting to see the Germans handing over $10 bills without a thought. No wonder we had to haggle hard to get anything remotely in our price range. The view from this point at the top of a pass was also splendid. The bus made a second stop so everyone could go to the toilet (since the Monastery had no public toilets). The men went to the sanddunes on the left and the women to the right. Noone seemed to mind.

A couple of hours from Nuweiba, we finally reached St Catherine's. It consisted of a small tourist area with adjoining local residences and a small airport on the outskirts. About a mile away, nestling in a valley, lay the famous St Catherine's Monastery at the foot of the mount, surrounded by high walls and lush gardens. Venerated by Christians, Jews and Muslims as the site of God's revelation of the Ten Commandments, Mount Sinai overlooks the valley where Moses is said to have heard the Lord speaking from a burning bush. The bush is now enshrined in Saint Catherine's Monastry. Pilgrims climb the Steps of Repentance from the site of the Burning Bush to the summit where God delivered the Ten Commandments.

We bade farewell to the Germans and lugged our packs up to the Monastery which is a Greek Orthodox foundation dating back to 337AD as a chapel to protect the Burning Bush. It was fortified at later stages. We were admitted through a small gate in the northern wall. Built of granite, 10-15 metres high and 23m thick, the walls are essentially unchanged since the 6th Century. There were a couple of tour parties (more children) inside, but we were able to view the site relatively quietly. I failed to identify the "official" burning bush at first, but it was inevitably the largest vegetation on the site. I saw various tourists stealing small branches off the enclosed thorny evergreen and wondered how it had survived since God spoke to Moses "Come now therefore, and I will send thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people the children of Israel out of Egypt". Apparently its the only bush of its kind in the peninsula.

A granite basilica, Saint Catherine's church was erected in the 6th Century. Its twelve pillars - representing the months of the year and hung with icons of the saints venerated during each one have ornately carved capitals. The chapel was very ornate with dozens of chandeliers and incense holders hanging fi-om the ceiling and huge candles. The children were noisy and disruptive. A monk chased a few who ignored rope barriers. Eventually, they were dragged out by their teachers and we had the place to ourselves. I heard a monk with an American accent. He had only arrived six months ago. The monastery itself was only open until midday, and we walked to the charnel house nearby, where piles of bones from ex monks were stored. There were also gardens. We climbed above the Monastery for more photographs.

We were conscious of the time, because we wanted to climb Mt Sinai behind the monastery. A craggy, sheer faced massif of gray and red granite "like a vengeful dagger that was dipped in blood many ages ago", its loftiest peak rises 2285 metres above sea level. We set off on the well worn camel path on a gentle incline, intending to leave our packs hidden along the way. But there were locals offering camel rides along the route and nowhere seemed isolated enough so we lugged them with us. It was very hot, but we had plenty of water. The trail was rocky and very dusty. Pacing ourselves, we ascended steadily. Before we knew it, we had glorious views over the valley. The route turned a corner, and we lost sight of the monastery. Mount Sinai was actually behind the hills that surrounded the monastery. At regular intervals, locals had set up stalls to sell water and chocolate. There were a few other walkers, but we left them behind.

After a 2 hour slog, we reached a plateau on the other side of a cliff-face where we joined the other route, known as the Sikket Saiyidna Musa (Path of our Lord Moses) or steps of Repentance. This last slog up the step was hell on our legs. A few walkers passed us on the way down. The only building on the summit was a small chapel sited near the cave where God sheltered Moses. A local Arab had a stall and we decided to splash out on a cup of sweet tea at £1 a cup while we marvelled at the view over scores of arid peaks around us. A superb vista.

After a half hour break sunbathing, other walkers arrived and destroyed the peaceful tranquillity of the summit. We could have stayed up there for the sunset and rented blankets from an Arab, but decided that we had seen it at its best and ambled down the route, tackling the steps which were easier going down, then back along the camel path, back to the Monastery. It was deserted. We walked a further mile back to the holiday village. A couple of shop keepers were driving golf balls into the desert. It was nearly dark and we were exhausted. We found the Hotel El Faroz, which was the cheapest of very few alternatives in the guidebook. Some new hotels had been built, but both were well out of our budget. We opted for a detached brick cabin at the El Faroz for £7 each. Warm showers were a luxury. We walked into the village and had soup and a chicken/rice dish with tea at a deserted cafe.

Tuesday December 17tb - Nuweiba

It was a glorious day outside when we awoke. We had nothing else to do here, so we had to find some transport back to Nuweiba. A local at the hotel told us that there were no buses but that a minibus would be available (at double the cost of our bus ride there). When it arrived, it was full of travellers and we decided not to take it. We walked down to the main road looking for rides. There was little traffic. A couple of taxis stopped but their fares were too high. Finally a taxi pulled up. The driver agreed on a £10 fare. We weren't sure what the catch was. He had to visit his owner first who tried to put it up to £15. We got out of the taxi and finally he relented to the agreed price of £l0.

The taxi driver was a Bedouin from Tabu, who we chatted to as we sped along the open empty road though the desert back to Nuweiba. It took about an hour. The windows were down to dissipate the heat. I wondered what happened if you broke down. We passed an occasional army check point. At Nuweiba village, we paid the fare and tipped him £2 telling him was better that he got the extra rather than the owner. He was very grateful.

Since Israel withdrew from the Sinai, tourists visiting Nuweiba have diminished from a flood to a trickle. We walked through the dingy town to the beach. About a mile down the coast we could see the tourist village. Walking along the deserted beach, we passed hotels that had their own beaches which were cleared of litter. The rest of the beach had litter and debris. We walked into the village, looking for a specific hotel without luck. There were many tents available for rent, but we decided we could afford a room. The village had a handful of tourists sunbathing. Noone was in the sea. There were colourful carpets laid out on the beach with roll supports and straw canopies. A sand lane twisted through the stalls. We ended up in Tarabeen, the Bedouin village, which was grubby and unappealing. It was very hot and I was eager to find somewhere and go diving around the coral reefs.

We retraced our steps and we ended up at the Camp David International Resort which was a rich description of a posse of tents and half a dozen cabins. At £2 each, we figured we had a good deal, until we discovered that there was no running water. It had been turned off. I had to ask for it to be switched on, and it had been turned off again by the time we returned. We dumped our gear and walked back along the beach to the reef just off the shore. I spent a couple of hours diving around the reef which was not as spectacular as the Tobago or Australian reefs I had explored. The water was not as clear and there were less variety of fish in smaller numbers. Numerous dives did, however, enable me to spot all the regular varieties. It was very hot and the sun blasted our skins.

In the evening, we finished the bottle of duty free gin and explored the empty village and opted for a lovely empty restaurant nearby. We were led upstairs to a cubicle of cushions with the roar of the sea in our ears. We had a romantic meal of kebabs, undisturbed by anyone. The effect of the gin, sun, sea and diving were just what we needed.

Wednesday December 18th - Ferry to Aqaba, Jordan

There was no water, but it didn't really matter. We weren't sure if we should just rest up for another day, but we felt we had done everything we had come to Egypt to see and we were keen to move on. We pottered around the village which was deserted, even by locals. No stalls were open. Eventually, we picked up our packs and walked back along the beach to the town where we found a taxi to take us to the port. The taxi contained a strange Englishman, who tried to lecture us on what was what and how much we should pay and that we had done it all wrong etc. When we got in the taxi I had said £2 (which was what we had paid before). It was a fair price. When we got to the port ten minutes later, the taxi driver attempted to raise it to £4.

I did not have the £2 in Eygptian change and told Jo to wait while I went to get change by buying water. When I returned I gave the driver £2 and we walked off towards the ferry office, leaving the all knowing Englishman to sort out the bill with his supposedly remaining 75 pence. . I was too well travelled to mess around with haggling over fares and people telling me how to travel.

The ferry office was well hidden. When we arrived after asking numerous people for directions, we found a small office with a dozen people lined up at the two gaps in the wall. We had two choices, the fast boat for $47 each (a catamaran taking an hour) or the slow ferry for S32 (taking 3-4 hours). If we took the fast boat, we would leave later than the ferry and get in before it. We had limited US dollars and were in no rush to get to Jordan. We opted for the ferry, and since it was about 10.30am we still had a couple of hours. We found a cafe and had omelettes, lasagna and tea for breakfast as the flies buzzed around and trucks rolled into town to board the ferry.

Eventually, we entered the port to start the immigration process. We appeared to be the only travellers. Everyone else was already getting processed, lining up for inspection at different points. Someone pointed us the a separate channel where an inspector looked at our tickets, stamped them, and waved us on to passport control where we jumped ahead of a fifty people. It made no difference, because we still had to wait for them to get through, but at least we could sunbathe on the boat. A bus took us to the ferry, where we queued again to have everything inspected. Security men got nervous, when I broke out of line to take a photo of the boat. Taking pictures of naval and military establishments was illegal in Egypt.

On the large crowded boat, called "St Katherines", we handed over our passports to the purser and found space on an upper deck floor amongst dozens of male Arabs smoking, playing games, arguing. Any Arab women were hidden inside in the rooms with seats. After exploring the boat, I found another deck with chairs. Soon after we moved to them, an official shut down the deck and everyone got moved on. This seemed to happen regularly around the boat in different places. The ferry left an hour late after 1pm. It was a very crowded boat, but we found a seat and watched the arid mountains pass on either side of the boat (Egypt and Saudi Arabia) in the sun.

The three hour trip passed quickly. We had spent almost as much time at the Port and on the stationary boat itself as moving. We could see the modern city of Eilat in Israel across the bay from the smaller town of Aqaba in Jordan. We gathered our packs and attempted to get off the boat quickly when it docked. Bad mistake! The entire boat had decided to do the same. We were trapped in a stairwell, unable to move for the half an hour it took to dock, and then we were crushed down the stairs and through a door where a guard attempted to check the papers of everyone who barged through. There was no queuing system, and it was everyone for themselves. Even if it meant six men attempted to squeeze through the same door at once. Eventually the guard started hitting out at everyone with his stick. It was messy. I just stood back and watched with amazement. I had lost Jo in the crush and didn't have a clue where she was. People backed off. I squeezed though explaining that my passport was with the officials. Ten minutes later, Jo came through. There was obviously no etiquette for Western women. They had to fight with the everyone else.

Walking off the back of the ferry, a bus took us to a clean modest terminal where we waited to get our passport processed. There were computerized records here. The first we had seen since Israel. We had Jordanian multi-entry visas and there were no problems. Our passports were stamped and offered greetings of "You are welcome" to Jordan. This greeting was the most common phase we were to here for the next week. We changed £100 into Jordanian Dinars. The port was, as usual, a few miles out oftown. There were no buses in sight, so it was time to negotiate a taxi, which was no problem. There was no squabbling amongst the drivers as we were used to in Egypt. We got a ride in for three Jordanian Dinars. A Dinar was worth a pound. The taxi driver was friendly. Halfway to Aqaba, a police road check pulled us over and the driver had his papers inspected and then removed. He had a hell of a job getting them back. We were not sure what was wrong, but when he pleaded that he had western passengers they waved him on, papers intact.

The first thing that struck us about Jordan was how clean the place was. Litter was rare and there were no piles of debris as in Egypt. Things were kept tidy. As we approached the town of Aqaba, the driver asked if we wanted to go straight to Petra for 20 Dinar. Wherever we were to travel in Jordan, Petra was always the first destination offered. It was the country's major tourist sight. We explained that we were staying in Aqaba for a few days staying at the Petra Hotel. He dropped us at the bus station where there were a few minibuses loading. "Petra? Petra?" people called out. We just wanted to check out the buses to Wadi Rum the following morning. When we found someone who spoke some English, we were told that it left at 7am or earlier if full.

Aqaba was just a small fishing village until it became Jordan' s only port. It was a port even before Roman times and today is important both as a deepwater port and a tourist centre. While the rest of the country shivers in the winter, the temperature hovers steadily around 25'C in Aqaba.. The Petra Hotel was on the main street, round the corner from the bus station, and we got a small double room with bathroom for £3 each. The biggest luxury was the hot shower. Our first in two days. To get to our room, you had to pass a tiny lobby with receptionist/guard and get a lift up 4 floors. There were no windows, but it was quiet. We set out to explore the streets for cheap food in the evening. The town was bustling. Shops were open. People strolled around and everyone was smiling and friendly. It was a really pleasant, clean place to stay. About 10 minutes away, we discovered the market and a line of cheap cafes. Hummus was on display and we were certainly up for that. The owners looked amused that we would choose to eat there. I pretty much pointed at everything on offer and we had a selection of hummus (cooked chickpeas ground into a paste and mixed with garlic and lemon), fuul (a paste made from fava beans, garlic and lemon, swimming in oil) and felafel (deep fried balls of chickpeas paste with spices) all served with a plate of Arabic flat bread (khobz) with pickled vegetables and tomatoes. Someone went to get the bread came from a baker next door. We stuffed our faces with all three, plus tea and Pepsi. It all cost under £1. We could hardly believe it. We also took a large of tub of hummus and bread with us for the next day at Wadi Rum.

We bought some fruit at the market, three litres of water (75p) and at a cake stall we again purchased everything on show. After the delicious Egyptian pastries, we thought that these would be similiar. In fact, they were semolina based! One tray had a red/yellow cake that looked like jam sponge cake to me. Later in bed, I discovered it was coloured semolina. Nevertheless, for another Dinar, we had a bag of edible if interesting cakes. We explored the streets and came across the tourist area which we did not realise existed. The restaurant prices were out of our budget but the Germans sitting at the outside tables could obviously afford them. Later on, after much walking, we found an area where the locals all watched TV outside in public areas (I had seen the same thing in Turkey). James Bond was on. It was only our first night in Jordan, and already we were very comfortable in this friendly and cheap environment. We were already getting used to photos of King Hussein everywhere.

Thursday December 19th - Wadi Rum

It was still dark when we left the hotel at 6.30am. At the bus station, we discovered that the bus to Wadi Rum had already filled up and left. We weren't sure what to do next, when a taxi rolled up with a French woman in the front. "Are you going to Wadi Rum?" she asked. We were and agreed to share the taxi ride. Public transport into Wadi Rum is virtually non existent, and originally we thought that we would be hitching from the turn off 5 km south of Quweira along a 30 km road into Wadi Rum, or at worst, walking.

The French woman had been travelling up through Africa for four months, and was at the tail end of her journey. We swapped stories and gathered information on African countries. She told us that the Japanese tourists had invaded Kenya, inflating the prices. The taxi ride trip on route 15 was very fast. It is the main road through Jordan from Aqaba to Amman, the capital. There was little car traffic, but plenty of trucks rolling down the highway in both directions. Occasionally we drove past more police road checks. We saw the major railway line that carries mined phosphorus to be exported at Aqaba.

At the Quweira turn off, we left 'civilisation' and made for Wadi Rum which has some of the most spectacular desert scenery anywhere in the world. Lawrence of Arabia spent quite a bit of time here during the Arab revolt and many scenes from the movie were shot here. Consequently, tourism has a historical name to hang onto the site which really doesn't need it. The huge 'jebels' rise sheer fiom the sandy valley floor and totally dominate the small settlement of Rum, which consists of the Desert Patrol Corps, fort and about 20 Bedouin families living in goat hair tents and breeze block huts.

It cost 1 Dinar each to enter the National Park. We were dropped at the Government Rest House and paid £5 each for the taxi ride, which had been very convenient for us and bade farewell to the French woman. The hamlet of Rum was silent. At 8am, it was still in the shade of the jebels and quite cold. Most people rent jeeps to take them on a rapid tour of the desert, visiting various "Lawrence" sights. We decided that we would walk into the desert and take it from there. We were carrying plenty of water and food and had a full day ahead of us.

It is not until you start walking across the desert, do you realise how vast it is. The surrounding mountains seemed to get no closer. The sand was packed quite hard in some places and we were able to use the jeep tracks as a guide to where we were supposed to be headed. There was some vegetation - small thorny bushes about a foot high every few feet. Some had dead flower shoots four feet high, which had obviously sprouted quickly after the last rain and died soon afttr in the heat, leaving their seeds to be blown away in the wind. There were also many holes inhabited by desert foxes, sand rats, hares and jerboas ( a small rodent). I couldn't see anything to eat, but the tiny footprints or paw prints were evidence that there was certainly wildlife.

We walked a good two hours until 10am, out of the jebel shadows and into a broad expanse of desert, where the sun had no obstacles and heated the area quickly. We breakfasted on a large flat rock - hummus, bread, cakes and water. I climbed a neighbouring hillside, and within minutes, I was a speck to Jo on the ground. It was all so vast. These jebels did not look large against the huge expanse of sand until you realised how small you were in comparison.

We could not see the village of Rum in the distant shadows. We had seen a couple of jeeps heading across the other side of the valley, and decided to go and see what the few tourists were being taken to. We walked across the sand to the huge jebels that close up, looked like huge dollops of hot fudge sundae ice cream with the toffee cascading down the sides. The wind had eroded the granite/sandstone rock in strange ways. A jeep with half a dozen New Zealanders went past and stopped around the corner. We followed their trail into a cavern that took you through to a steep sided gorge on the other side. I had seen this on a travel programme so knew that there were ancient footprints carved out on the wall somewhere. I found them. Once through the cavern, there was a very difficult climb up a smooth rock to get up to a higher level. I left Jo, and climbed up. I had to clamber up different levels with 10-20ft drops beneath me. Eventually, I could go no further and had to backtrack. It was much harder getting down.

The guide told us that the famous bridge was across on the other side of the next desert, so we walked on. Looking back, it seemed as if we had covered hardly any ground. We found the "Bridge" which was a piece of granite that had had the sandstone eroded beneath it, to form a natural arch. We climbed up and had lunch there. The sun was high above us. We could see locals on camels crossing the desert and yelling to others across the desert. From this view, you could see the entire valley.

It was after 2pm, and it would be dark before 6pm, so we cut across the desert back towards Rum. We arrived back at the Rest House at 4pm. We negotiated with a taxi driver, who was leaving around 6pm. He was waiting for an Italian who wanted to watch the sunset. We were in no hurry and the 10 Dinar price was the same as we had paid going out. We sat and had tea, wandered around the village with the tents and camels. Many people had their own jeeps and would still ask if we wanted a trip. They seemed amazed when we said that we had walked it. We estimated that we had probably walked 15 miles.

I climbed a hill to see the sunset, but it was nothing spectacular. We returned in the dark to Aqaba with the Italian tourist who spoke good English. Back in town, we visited our market stall for another cheap meal, and wandered around the town. We bumped into an Englishman who had been cycling for four months via Turkey to get here, en route to Egypt. He told us about Petra and Syria.

Friday December 20tb - Petra

It was another early start, and we were downstairs at 5.45am as the security guard unlocked the hotel door. At the bus station, there were no buses. It was a case of waiting. We sat and had tea and talked to a local dressed in his typical red/white "teacloth" and snake-like ring which held it on his head. In many conversations, the first question we would get asked was "Are you married?". It was easier to say yes. The next question would be "how many children?". Rather than say none, considering how much they all loved children, Jo would say "We are trying" which was a perfect answer. They would always smile in sympathy. The driver told us that he had twelve children. I asked if he had enough strength to drive a bus and suggested that the reason he was at the bus station so early was to get away from them. He told us that there would be a minibus soon. Meanwhile a taxi driver offered to take us, and reduced the price every five minutes.

About 6.30am a minibus arrived and the driver we had talked to, beckoned us in, and got in behind the wheel. Petra was our destination, but he told us that we could take his bus to Ma'am and get a connecting minibus without problem. The minibus filled up and we were off through another series of police blocks. It was only 2.5 Dinars each for almost a 2 hour ride. We would have liked to have spent more time at Aqaba, possibly diving, but the schedule drove us on. There are plans to build an International airport there to service both Aqaba and Eilat in Israel. When that happens, the town will become a major resort. It was nice to see it as a relatively small place.

Ma'an was a non descript market town at the start of the Desert Highway. The minibus stopped there, and our driver told us a minibus to Petra would arrive soon. Meanwhile a local man with a pickup truck, asked if we wanted a ride for a Dinar each. We grabbed the opportunity. As we left town, he also picked up a couple of young policemen who flagged him down. We made good time along the desolate desert roads. As we approached the town ofPetra descending on a twisty road, we lost traction and it was obvious that we had a slow puncture on a back wheel. It was a race against time, that he could get the truck there before it finally deflated. He had no spare. He managed to get to the outskirts before it was flat. The policemen stopped a local bus and told it to take us down the hill.

The town of Petra is built on the hills with one road in and out to the famous ruins. There were many hotels near the top, but we thought that we would try the "Sunset Hotel" which was nearest to the ruins. The world famous ruins are Jordan's most famous sight, and consequently, the town has boomed. We heard that it had 75 hotels now, but that the demand had dropped. It was a quiet period and we could have our pick. The bus dropped us less than a mile from the hotel which lay at the bottom of the hill. It was still only I0am and we had made good time.

The "Sunset Hotel" was the best place we had chosen to stay at so far and the 11 Dinars each was a special treat. Very clean. We were eager to get into the ruins, so just dumped our bags and walked the quarter mile to the entrance where a shock awaited us. Entrance to Petra was $20US each. Horrendously overpriced. But what do you do. It was the major highlight on our trip, so we were not going to refuse. We opted for a two day pass at $25US which made it more bearable. Just inside the gates lay the Brooke Hospital for Horses. Jo would be able to carry out her research despite the aborted mission in Cairo. We walked past it, passed on offers of a ride to the ruins (fixed priced of 7 Dinars), and walked towards the ruins.

Petra is the ruined capital of the Nabataeans - Arabs who dominated the Trans-Jordan area in pre-Roman times and they carved elaborate buildings and tombs out of the solid rock. This lost city was forgotten by the outside world for 1000 years. It was rediscovered in 1812, excavations commenced in 1929 and the central city was not uncovered until 1958. The spectacular city was built in the 3rd century BC by the Nabataeans who carved palaces, temples, tombs, storerooms and stables from the rocky cliffs. From here they commanded the trade route from Damascus to Arabia and through here the great spice, silk and slave caravans passed.

The most famous ruin is the Khazneh (treasury), the first main monument you come to after the trek through the incredibly narrow two km long defile known as the Siq. The carved facade of the treasury is the finest of all Petra monuments, and was a backdrop in the film "Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade". It did not disappoint us. You emerged from the narrow walkway into a sunlit area with the pink/orange Treasury towering over you. It seemed amazing that this was all carved from the same rock. You could see the gouges in the rock where scaffolding had been erected during its construction. You could also still see the water system that had been laid along the walls above the street. At this point, the site was quiet and we almost had the place to ourselves. We took pictures of two guards dressed in traditional costume. Intermittedly, there were people with brooms collecting litter. It was a very clean site.

We walked along the trail past huge tombs to an 8000 seat amphitheatre that was also carved out of the rock and seemed to blend in with it. Tourist groups had appeared. We decided to climb up to the High Place of Sacrifice and leave them behind. It was a lengthy climb up steps to find an amazing view over part of the site. The Royal cliff tombs could be seen in the context with which they had been obvious been carved out, the facade overlooking the main colonnaded street. The sacrifice alter was still there, along with a herd of mountain goats with huge floppy ears. They seemed to hang off the edge of sheer drops. From this splendid viewpoint, we could see other former complexes in other valleys, all utilizing clifffaces.

Back down at street level, we climbed up to the Royal Tombs and explored their spacious carved rooms extensively. We then walked along the colonnaded street towards the Qasr el-Bint, a former temple with huge walls, but no roof. It was tempting to explore every hollow in every rock, but they were too numerous and obviously empty. As the sun started to drop, we headed for the monastery which is reached by a long, rock cut staircase on the far side of the site. It has a similiar facade to the Khazneh, but is far bigger and the views fiom there are stunning. The sun shone on the yellow/white facade which glowed. I climbed up a hill to overlook the monastery and then followed the example of a few others, by climbing up the side of the facade to the roof of the Monastery which slipped down. There were no railings and the drop was getting on for 100 feet. Jo said that I looked like a dot in comparison to it.

We retraced our steps, quite exhausted and took in some final sights at the Royal Tombs. Then back to the Treasury. The site was deserted. The local Bedouins headed back to their villages in the back of pickup trucks. The security force was being pepped by its commander. We walked up the Siq in darkness back to the Horse Hospital which was closed. The security guard told us that the vet would be in at 9am. We met three English lads who were driving around Jordan and swapped stories. After showers, we dragged ourselves out of the hotel to find food. There were no shops where we were, and we knew restaurants would be expensive. We opted for one nearby, but the majority of the menu was beyond our means. We choose dips, salad and water and though very good, it still worked out at £10 between us.

Saturday December 21st - Petra & Amman

Jo wanted to spend the morning at the Brooke Horse Hospital, so we used our admission tickets for a second time. The hospital was set up to help look after the local horses which are used extensively to ferry around the tourists as well as for agricultural work. It is also there to educate the owners to look after their animals which are an economic necessity. We watched blacksmiths working and were welcomed by a couple of administration workers who told us about the set up over numerous cups of sweet tea. When the vet turned up, he told Jo that he was inspecting many horses that morning and that she could join him.

I decided to go exploring Petra again. As I left the hospital I came across the three English lads also heading into the Siq. They were going exploring for a morning, so I accompanied them back down to the Treasury and along the colonnaded road, where we started climbing into another valley. There were numerous carvings on the rocks and further dwellings and tombs. We chatted away and before I knew it, a couple of hours had passed. I had to get back and once again retraced my steps back to the hospital. The site had more tour groups today and I was glad we saw it in relative peace. Jo was almost finished. She had had an excellent morning with the friendly vet (who was trained in Iran) and had all the information she wanted.

Around noon, we left the site, picked up our gear and walked up the hill. We found a "service" taxi going to Amman. We climbed in with the other passengers. It was under 5 Dinars each for the two hour ride along the rather dull Desert Highway to Amman the capital. Amman is one of the most ancient cities in the world. with archeological finds dating back to 3000BC. Set amongst seven hills, it is now a modern, rapidly growing city of 1.2 million people (out of Jordan's 4 million pop). Many of the residents are Palestinians.

We arrived around 4pm and were dropped at the Abdali Bus Station which was convenient for the Al Monzer Hotel on Jebal al-Hussein next to it. For 14 Dinars we got a spacious room. Settled, we walked uptown to try and find a Government building. We had read that we might need a special permit to cross into the West Bank. A local told us it was closed until tomorrow, but we found a travel agent advertising bus trips to the border so we checked there, and were told that it was no longer necessary.

We then walked downtown to the shopping area. It was dark and the minor rush hour was occurring. We saw a couple of shops selling Xmas trees and one had a Santa Claus outside welcoming children. It was the first sign of Xmas we had seen and it looked strange. There were plenty of shops, cafes etc. We ended up at a small cafe up a hill run by an Egyptian man with a big bushy beard. We ate soup and had tea. Later on we found delicious kebabs going for 25p each and had two each. Then we found another cake shop, and ice cream for 10p. We were able to wander around, eat cheaply and enjoy our first city since Cairo. On the way back we took a different route and ended up walking a couple of miles out of our way, but got our bearings and ended up at the new King Hussein Mosque which was an impressively large building with huge turquoise dome. It dominated the skyline.

Sunday December 22th - Jerash

We were up and out by 7am and crossed to the bus station. We found a bus to take us to Jerash. This beautifull) preserved Roman city, situated 51 km north of Amman, is one of Jordan's major attractions, second only to Petra. The main ruins were rediscovered in 1806 but excavations did not begin until the 1920s. Excavations are still going on today but it is estimated that 90% of the city is still untouched. The city rose to prominence from the time of Alexander the Great (332BC). In 63 BC the Roman emperor Pompey conquered the region and Jerash became part of the Roman province of Syria, reaching its peak in the 3rd C. Persian and Muslim invasions and earthquakes set it on a downward spiral after the 5C.

Approaching the ruins from Amman, the Triumphal Arch is first to come into view. Behind the arch is the hippodrome, the old sports field that used to be surrounded by seating that held up to 15,000 spectators. The South Gate originally one of four in the 3,500 metre long city wall is the main entrance to the site today. As we entered, it began to rain heavily and we had got soaked in the process. It was a huge site. Once inside the gate, the second century Temple of Zeus was a ruined building on the left. The Forum is unusual because of it's oval shape. It was very distinctive and looked very impressive from the South Theatre, behind the Temple of Zeus which was built in the First Century and could once hold 5000 spectators. On the far side of the Forum the cardo, or colonnaded street stretched for more than 600 metres to the North Gate. The street was still paved with the original stones and the ruts worn by thousands of chariots over the years could be clearly seen. The colonnaded street was also very impressive. I had not seen one as good since Ephasis in Turkey.

Next along the cardo was the Nymphaeum, the main ornamental fountain of the city and a temple to the Nymphs. This is followed by the Temple of Artemis, dedicated to the patron goddess of the city. The rain was lashing down now and we were forced to shelter. It was a miserable day, but we didn't want to hang around and wait so pushed onto the North Theatre which was being restored. The whole site was a fabulous Roman remain and there was only one Russian tour group that hardly stepped inside. In the tiny museum, there was a good selection of artifacts from the site. As we left the site, the sun came out and we bumped into the New Zealand group we had seen in Wadi Rum. Everyone in Jordan did the same sights.

It was time to head for Syria. We walked to the local market/transport centre and found a bus going to Irbid from where taxis were available to take us to the border. It was a bumpy half hour ride. Sure enough, a service taxi was looking for two more passengers. Only 2 Diner each. One of the men bought us all sweets for the journey. We were taken to the border town of Der'a and onto the actual border. I had read bad stories about this border. There were many procedures. First you had to visit the Jordanian Immigration to get a yellow slip and fill in a form . Then you walked next door to the Customs office to pay a four Dinar exit fee and get the yellow slip stamped. Back at the Immigration Office, you then lined up in the "Foreign" section to have the passport inspected, give them your form and yellow slip which was ripped in half: You got half of it as a receipt. They stamped the passport to cancel the visa. We actually did the whole procedure more quickly than the others who had to battle through queues to get this and that done. The old fat taxi driver was already losing his patience.

Eventually, we all got back to the car and were taken to the Syrian Immigration. So far, so good. We entered the office and filled in a yellow Syrian form. We handed over our passports. The officials went away. A couple of other people were waiting for their passports back so we thought it could take a few minutes. Other people came to the desk and had their papers inspected and left. Finally a young army guard came out to question Jo. They had looked through her passport and had found an old Sinai stamp that Jo had got when we visited Eilat in Israel five years ago. We had been carefully not to get any Israeli stamps on this trip, but it made no difference. They asked Jo if she had ever been to Israel and she answered truthfully (and stupidly!) yes, but five years ago, and that there was no Israeli stamp in her passport. More to point she questioned that if the stamp made her visa invalid, why had the Syrian Embassy in London issued her a visa in the first place. We were told that they did not inspect the passports, that this was done by immigration at the border. I told them that it was a stupid policy because we could have flown direct to Damascus only to be turned away. I was ok and I would be allowed in, but obviously I could not leave Jo. Our other problem was that this was the only border crossing. We could not go to another one and try again.

We had no choice, but to turn around. The guard was apologetic, but that rules were rules. He arranged for a taxi to take us back to the Jordanian immigration where the real fun started. Firstly we wanted our visa exit stamp cancelled, and we also wanted our 4 Dinars departure tax back too. We handed the officials our passports and forms and that we had been "rejected" by Syria and had to return to Jordan. We asked them about the departure tax and were given back our passports and told to go to the Customs office where we had paid it. The customs official asked us for our yellow receipts. We did not have them They must have been taken by the officials when we gave them our passports. He sent us back to Immigration. We tried to explain that they had our yellow slips. We asked to talk to someone who spoke English. An army officer listened to our story and told us to go to a counter, which we did. Nothing happened. We went back to the officer who had disappeared. Someone led us into the Commander's office and we sat and waited. A typical Jordanian commander with mustache and serious face listened to our problem, wrote something on a piece of paper, called in an minion and said handle it.

What followed for the next hour was an exercise in watching a bureaucratic system failing miserably to work in reverse. We followed the young lad around to various offices, to the Customs office, across to the Syrian border, back to see the Commander who looked even more pissed off, back to Immigration, across to the Syrians again and finally to another Officer, who wasn't there. We were then led to a barrack house, where they found a key to a cupboard that contained all yellow slip receipts. They had to unlock boxes and start searching. About half a dozen soldiers joined in looking for two slips of paper. After about ten minutes, they found a couple of slips - how could they tell if they were correct? - and took us to another office where 8 Dinars was finally given back to us. An unbelievable experience, especially funny, when I discovered my original yellow slip in my shorts. Oops.

The taxi driver that had brought us over, had long lost patience and disappeared. We found another taxi to take us back to Irbid, and then a communal taxi back to Amnan. It was dark by the time we arrived there. Deciding to try another cheaper hostel, we ended up at the Cliff Hotel in Downtown, just opposite "Seiko Corner", with the entrance up a side alley (4 Dinar each). A shower cost half a Dinar extra. We found an empty cafe nearby and had soup and chicken. Other tourists saw us eating there, and very soon, the place was full of westerners.

Monday December 23rd - West Bank, Jerusalem and Haifa

The previous evening we had discussed our options. We couldn't go North to Syria, East to Iran or South East to Saudi Arabia. We had two choices - return to Egypt or head into Israel via the West Bank. We still had nearly two weeks and I didn't just want to hang around Israel which was financially crippling. I had visited Egypt in 1995 and felt that I had finished with it. However at worst we could go diving and have a few days by the Red Sea or revisit Luxor. I came up with another possibility. That we should go to Jerusalem and see if any ferries were heading to Cyprus. We were intending to fly to Cyprus at Easter and sail to the Lebanon, so this option would just move it up the list. We could visit the Lebanon and Syria as a separate trip. Depending on the ferries, we could plan the Israel stretch accordingly.

Consequently, we were up and out and up at the bus station soon after 6am. The border was only open between 8-10am so we had to ensure we got there in time. We found an Arab communal taxi to take us to the King Hussein Bridge border for only 3 Dinars each. The driving listened to his prayers on the radio which wailed on for ages. We were there soon after 7am and sat and had a tea until the office opened. A couple of Japanese women, and a Norwegian couple turned up on the private bus from Amman. We had to pay our 4 Dinar departure tax again! and got another yellow slip, which we made sure was safe. The immigration building was empty. It was the last time we saw portraits of King Hussein. A JETT bus took us from the building across no man's land with Jordanian army checks before we were taken to a tiny army bridge crossing the River Jordan. There was a locked gate and since we were the first vehicle there that morning, the bus driver had to climb down and unlock it, before we could cross the 50ft long, 20ft wide wooden bridge, known as the Allenby Bridge to the Israelis. We then went though Israeli army checks with the familiar tough looking young women talking about our progress into walkie talkies. Welcome to the West Bank which both the Jordanians and Israelis claim to be part of their respective countries.

Surprisingly, the security clearance was not as heavy as we expected. No questions, just the X -ray machines. We changed money and went outside to the taxi rank. After Jordan, the prices grated. I asked the other travellers if they were going to Jerusalem, which they were. We organised a giant limousine taxi for about £5 each which carried eight comfortably. The border crossing was in the usual isolated spot and no public buses came close. We had no choice. It was a fast comfortable ride through the desert, under an hour to the disputed capital of Israel which will be dealt with in detail later.

We were dropped by Damascus Gate next to the Old City around noon and walked towards the modern town centre. We walked past a tourist agency who told us that a ferry travel agency was just down the road. At this oflice, we were in luck. An overnight ferry was leaving Haifa in Northern Israel at 8pm It was the last crossing of the year for the Allalouf company. There was also a return available with a different company on December 29th, giving us 5 days there. Perfect. The ferry prices themselves were manageable - about $100US return, but it also cost $20US to leave Israel and $30US in departure tax from Cyprus. Still, it was better than staying in Israel. We walked up to the Post Office to catch a bus to the central bus station. It cost 3.70 Shekels for a basic ride (nearly 80p).

At the bus stop we watched a security force of young Israelis question what looked like a young thief. It looked ugly. A bunch of tall, thin, close cropped youths with standard fashionable sunglasses, green khaki uniforms and earpeices for communication. They were to become a familiar sight, boarding: any bus we were on to inspect the passengers. Jerusalem's internal security. We bought tickets for Haifa and climbed on a 2.30pm bus half full of spotty soldiers - both male and female, in their teens, armed with Uzi 9mm submachine guns (2 safety catches). Throughout our time in Israel, especially on buses, we would see countless young soldiers on the move. They were probably going to their families for Xmas. Another familiar sound was the shrill of mobile phones, Even on buses. everyone had one and used them all the time.

The journey via Tel Aviv using good standard roads, was forgettable, until we accompanied the Mediterranean Coastal road to the major port of Haifa, with a decent sea visa to look at. Bus radio was American music. Everyone seemed to want to be living like an American. High tech. High living standards.We rolled into rush hour Haifa. The bus station was modern and full of restaurants, but still suffering from Jordanian prices and felt it was all expensive. Walking down the road to a bunch of shops, we still found £3 for a kebab, too expensive and settled for bread. Back at the bus station, we caught a bus to the port. It was a crawl through traffic. Our first example of bad Israeli hospitality occurred when Jo was hauled out of her seat by some aged fat Israeli because she was seated in the "Old people's seats". No explanation. Just a tug and sod off with you. We were not sure where we should get off. Since we had asked for the port, we thought that the bus driver would tell us where to get off. Some hope. Meanwhile, a car crashed into the back of our bus in the queues and the driver climbed out to start sorting out the details. We had been told to get to the port for 6pm to pick up our tickets before the office closed, and the deadline was nearly upon us. Deciding to walk it, we left the bus and eventually discovered that the passenger terminal was half a mile back. Thanks a lot Mr driver.

We walked back to the walkway, went through a first security check that allowed us to enter the terminal. Once there, we went through the usual questions about our stay in Israeli. Again, they didn't seem happy about the fact that we had just come in from Jordan and we were immediately off to Cyprus. We went through the formalities, and numerous x -ray machines and passport controls. I counted half a dozen, before we finally walked out to the Salamis Lines boat - a large ferry ship. We boarded the boat to find the passenger seat section. We soon discovered that there were less than a dozen of us on the boat - all travellers. We all chatted before I watched the lovely sunset and hit the bar and wrote postcards for the entire address book. As we left the port, we watched the lights of Haifa disappear into the distance. Since there were so few of us, the portions were very good in the restaurant. We had large plates of spaghetti bolognaise, salad and chicken for under £5 each. At the duty free shop, we were able to buy chocolate bars at English prices. It was a deserted boat. There were welcome showers next door. I also found a blanket and after a mandatory book reading session, we slept through the rest of the crossing.

Tuesday December 24th - Cyprus

When we awoke, the sun was rising. We pulled into port around 6am, changed some money and collected our passports with Cypriot stamps. We were let off the boat to enter the port town of Limassol and found a bus stop nearby . We had arrived with no prior information about the country. I had not researched it. We didn't even know what was here. A bus rolled up and we climbed aboard. It took us along the main road through the centre of Limassol which was an awful trail of ugly hotels, English type cafes, bars and shops. Bacon and Eggs, a copy of '"The Sun" and a pint of lager were the most popular options. The bus took us along half an hour of this typical "Englishman abroad - home from home" scenario, before dropping us at the larger, more distinctive hotels.

Already deciding that this was not where we wanted to be for Xmas, we caught a return bus back into the centre. We felt that we needed a guidebook, and walked around the old town in vain hope of a bookshop. The best one did not have what we needed. The market was quite colourful with its inflatable Xmas decorations and flowers, but it was surrounded by pedestrian precincts that looked like any English high street. After a couple of hours, we decided that our only option was to rent a car and tour the island. We were not sure about prices and were pleasantly surprised at our first call at "Oasis Rent A Car". An English-Greek man offered us a decent Japanese car for £15 a day all inclusive. We jumped at the chance. He also recommended his family's hotel for a Xmas Eve bash, but we figured we didn't have any decent to wear for a formal Cypriot do.

Taking off, we tackled Limassol's Xmas traffic and followed the fast dual carriageway for Larnaca Airport. We had no luck in the bookshop there and decided to wing the trip without a guide book. In a sea full of islands, Cyprus is one of the more substantial ones. It is the third largest in the Mediterranean, but still only 240km long and 96km wide. A large central plain has mountains to the north and there is a varied coastline. By virtue of its position the island has long been of great strategic importance. While the island's culture, language and people are clearly Greek, the island is physically much closer to the Muslim world.

We drove into Larnaca, the third largest town (60,000). It was an unremarkable place, and had plenty of tourists doing their shopping. Much of the coastline west of Larnaca is an unexciting strip ofshingle which we found after driving through empty resort areas. The wind and sea roared away. It was really just a case of driving and seeing what we found. Just outside Lamaca, we stumbled across the Hala Sultan Tekke splendidly set among the palm trees on the west bank of the Sah lake (complete with pink namingoes). It is here that Umm Haram, said to be the maternal aunt of the Prophet Mohammed, is buried. According to Muslim tradition, she was accompanying Arab raiders in 647 AD when she fell from her mule and broke her neck. She was buried on the spot and two huge stones were erected by the grave with a third laid across the top. It is an important place of Muslim pilgrimage. Now the sanctuary is enclosed by a dome built in 1760. Green cloth, a symbol ofpeace, is draped over the great stones. It was very peaceful inside and an old man gave us a brief guide. Outside, a restored minaret stands as tall as the palm trees and overlooks the shady garden with its fountain and water course.

We had purchased a road map so we could make for the mountains. We followed the B2 towards Nicosia and turned off at Pera Chorin to follow twisty roads in the foothills of the Troodos mountains, sometimes unsurfaced. We gradually rose in elevation, and passed through quaint villages. Aleppo pines were the dominant species of trees. Machairas monastery lay at 800m altitude. Originally founded in 1148, it had been rebuilt numerous times after fires. It was closed, but a short distance away, a large impressive statue of a 1950s Cypriot Patriot, Grigori Afxentiou, killed by the British nearby, looked over the valley. We continued on through the hills. A tiny hamlet of Gourri was particularly attractive, but there was no accommodation. The sun was falling and we needed to find somewhere to stay. No luck at Palaichori or Platanistasa where hotels were booked or closed on Xmas Eve.

Along very twisty roads, we climbed higher up to Pane Platres which was a major resort area. We spotted a nice place called the Kallithea Hotel for £11 Cypriot each - about £9. The old man who was the owner was very friendly. We got a lovely clean spacious room and a balcony. The village was on a slope so we climbed the street past a line of restaurants. They were all empty. Prices were quite expensive because of the location. We settled for a warm empty restaurant where we had Moussaka, salad and beer. Locals seem to stay at home and there were few tourists here.

Wednesday December 25th - Troodos Mountains, Cyprus

Xmas Day! It was certainly the nicest hotel we were to stay in, especially in location at 1100m in the Troodos Mountains. When we opened the curtains and shutters, we had a marvellous view over the thickly wooded hillside. Breakfast was thrown in - eggs, cheese, rolls, olives and tea. Since it was Xmas, the owner also gave us sweet cakes. The Troodos Mountains, which lie wholly within the Greek Republic of Cyprus and cover almost a third of the island's total area, have some of the most beautiful scenery in Cyprus. The successive ranges of hills within the massif are separated by deep valleys. The owner told us of a trail from the trout farm up to the Kaledonia Falls along a green and shady valley, which we could extend up to Mt Olympos. We decided to spend the day hiking.

The trail was beautiful and peaceful in glorious sunshine. A few tourists came the other way heading down to Platres. The Falls themselves were small, but the only consistent ones in the island. The stream was very clear and we could see rainbow trout in the ponds. We climbed past the falls, up series of steps, towards the Presidential Residence and eventually to the highest town in Cyprus called Troodos, which was really just a road junction with tourist facilities. Many Cypriot families were there using the restaurants. We walked on to the highest peak in the Troodos range, and in the whole island which was Mt Olympos (1952m). A British radar station was on the summit. A viewing platform afforded magnificent panoramic views of the range, extending as far as the northern coast. Facing south, we were actually above cloud level. I had found it tough going to complete the final miles. I did not realise at the time, but I was already suffering from a bout of flu. It was very cold at the top with some evidence of snow. After lunch at the top, we retraced our steps all the way back to the hotel. We had walked a good 15 miles in lovely weather and clean air. In the evening we tried another empty restaurant for more Moussaka. The town was still deserted.

Thursday December 26th - Nicosia, Kykkos Monastery

After two nights in the mountains, and another decent breakfast, it was time to move on and explore. We were very relaxed in the environment. Deciding to visit Nicosia, the capital, we descended to the nat central plain of Mesaoria. The Po road followed the Turkish occupation border wand there were large signs saying "Remember the Turks are occupying our land".

Nicosia has been the capital ofCyprus since the 10th Century. With a 170,000 pop, it is a troubled place, for it is a divided capital (since 1964) and the Green Line cuts through the very heart of this walled town. The impressive battlements were built by the Venetians and are remarkably wellpreserved, given that they were built in 1567. The Green Line is more a series of scruffy corrugated iron and sandbags, blistering with guns along its length. There were no Turkish solders in sight so I bagged an illegal photo of the border. We strolled around the narrow, empty streets, through crumbling old areas which were not particularly attractive. Greek music boomed out of some houses. A local fixed a girl's moped. Dogs lay around the doorways. The town was still on holiday. We found the Archbishop's Palace - a huge mocking Venetian structure built recently. In the grounds is an enormous, forbidding black statue of the former archbishop and president of Cyprus Makarios III. An occasional minaret appeared on the horizon. Walking in to the tourist area, it was virtually empty. Nothing was open. Two hours was enough. We preferred the mountains and decided to return to them.

Retracing our earlier drive, we took the E908 up to Kalopanagioti and on to Prodromos where we had lunch on a freezing and windy hilltop. We dropped down westwards to Kykkos Monastery. It is surrounded by pine trees in the clear air of 1160m above sea level. The monastery is the most celebrated in Cyprus and known throughout the Orthodox world, owing its great reputation to its possession of an icon of the Mother of God which is believed to have been painted by Luke the Evangelist. The icon has not been seen for centuries but apparently exists and has supposedly survived the regular fires. The monastery was last rebuilt in 1831. There were numerous tourists, but not enough to spoil the enjoyment of viewing the superb religious mosaics and paintings that adorned the walls. Inside the church, the many gold trappings were testament to its authority and power. We felt that it was Cyprus's best "human" attraction.

We drove on to the secluded Cedar Valley along an unsurfaced road with many bends. It was slow driving and we were getting low on petrol. The road twisted around old volcanic peaks through forests of cedar, pine and oak. Completed isolated with the sun falling, it was quite eerie. At Stavros tis Psokas, we found a tiny hamlet, but no garage. With no choice but to head for Polis, the nearest and largest coastal resort, I turned off the engine whenever we descended the rocky unmade trails. It was some ride and very reminiscent of our Dominican Republic travels earlier that year. We passed the occasional herds of mountain goats. Polis eventually appeared as darkness fell. It had been an exhausting drive needing full concentration. Ironically, none of the garages were open, but an automatic pump, took single pound notes so I got a few pounds worth to keep us going.

We surveyed the area for hotels and decided to stay on the main street at the "Akamas Restaurant Fish Tavern" with adjoining rooms for £5 each. We had the block to ourselves. In the evening we ventured out to a nearby restaurant for mixed grills. I had a sleepless night with my flu. The cockerels began at 3am and never stopped.

Friday December 27th - Cyprus

The little town of Polis ( 1800 pop) lies in Khrysokhou Bay on the north coast of Cyprus, on the site of the ancient city-kingdom of Marion. It has beautiful beaches along the coast, but its remote situation has largely preserved it from the high rise hotels. We used the post office to send off 50 postcards between us. Five miles north west of Polis are the Baths of Aphrodite. From a shady recess in the rock, fresh water flows into a small pond, where, it is said Aphrodite used to bath under a fig tree. Here she was surprised one day by Theseus's son Akamas and the two fell in love; but they were discovered and betrayed by an old woman, and Aphrodite was forced to return to Olympus. We walked on, past a huge herd of goats ,along a trail along the Akamas peninsula which had wonderful views over a turquoise sea. It was the most beautiful coastline we had seen on the island.

I was feeling pretty rough and very tired. We pushed on south to Kathikas and across to the coast to the Peyia Basilica which was very unspectacular. Coral Bay was more promising with a hundred or so English tourists sunbathing with beer and newspapers. We had an ice cream and enjoyed the sunshine. Just north of Paphos was the Tombs of the Kings, the necropolis of ancient Nea Paphos. The Tombs date from the 3rd Century BC when Cyprus was held by the Ptolemies. The tombs actually belonged to the wealthier citizens rather than Kings. We felt the £3 admission charge was excessive and did not bother to enter. Instead, we walked around the site and climbed over a fence, but did not see much of interest.

One of our problems in Cyprus was that after the wonders of Egypt and Jordan, every ruin looked ordinary and seemed expensive for what it was. Usually we passed on them. The town of Paphos also seemed very ordinary. Without a guide book, we did not know what places had to offer and usually we went on first impressions. Our first impression of traffic strewn Paphos was to move on immediately. Down by the Petra tou Romiou was a giant rock with the sea crashing against it, we climbed up to watch the sun starting to set. The days were passing ever faster. We tried Pissouri for accommodation, but found an ugly little village. We made for Kolossi and found nothing en route.

Eventually, we drove all the way into Limassol. There was nothing open in the old quarter, and so we tried the Continental Hotel on the front which looked beyond our budget. For £8 each, we got a lovely room overlooking the seafront. The hotel also had a restaurant which was doing cheap meals for £5 each - soup, a meat dish and cake. We had explored Limassol before and knew that the evening had nothing to offer us except an early night.

Saturday December 28th - Kolossi, Ferry to Haifa

Breakfast was thrown into the price. We had driven right around the island in three days. We had a morning left and drove out on a road flanked by cypresses lies the village of Kolossi with the massive castle of the Knights of St John. The castle lies in an intensively cultivated area, with large plantations of citrus fruits. Of the castle built in the mid 15th Century, only the high keep remains intact, we did not enter it, but walked around and also saw the remains of an old sugar factory, consisting of a rectangular barrel vaulted main building. We drove around the Salt Lake and back up to Limassol to drop off the car about 11am.

We had to be at the port by 2pm and made it in enough time to sit and sip beers and read in the sun. We checked onto the ferry which was run by another company called Louis Cruise Lines. It specialized in 36 hour trips to the Holy Land, and we found ourselves on a plush ferry full of tourists. At least we had a cabin somewhere in the bowels of the boat. Personally, four days was enough for me in Cyprus. No doubt with a guide book, we could have found more to do, but we got a good impression of the island and saw its most famous sites. It was a bit too dull and ordinary for me. I needed places that offered more of a challenge. But we had enjoyed Xmas there in relative comfort. The ferry trip was a nightmare. The boat was full of tourists. They were all on packages with dinner and breakfast thrown in. We didn't even have the correct dress requirements (ties!) to be let in. There were no cheap cafes to eat in. As it was, the sea turned very rough and we spent the night in bunks as the boat crashed around the sea. It was the roughest crossing I could remember in years. The sinks outside started to fill with vomit. I don't suppose the in-boat entertainment was well attended.

Sunday December 29th - Israel - Haifa, Akko, Safed

When I surfaced, I inspected the damage. Two huge fruit machines had toppled over in the casino. Glass everywhere. The sheep came out of their cabins and milled around like the undead waiting to enter the breakfast hall. We asked the head waiter if there was anywhere that "non packaged" people could eat. He organised some croissants for free in the bar where we could get hot coffee. The rain was lashing down outside. It reminded me of the very first day. We were able to jump the passport procedure where hundreds of tourists lined up to get inspected. We were off the boat long before anyone else. Surprisingly, there was no security check in the terminal and we walked back to the bus terminal in pouring rain. Miserable.

Haifa offered us nothing but a travel crossroads. We caught a bus to Akko. Akko's picturesque Old City is a popular tourist attraction, with its minarets and domes, Crusader remains, fishing port and small Arab market. The town has had an exceptionally long and varied history under Alexander the Great, the Egyptians, the Romans, the Crusaders and the Mamelukes. It was a hotbed of Arab hostility towards Jewish immig·ration in the 1930s but today is held up as an example of relative harmony between Jews and Arabs. We walked into the old city via the market and entered an Arab cafe for large portions of hummus, bread and pickles and sweet tea. Cheap and filling.

In the southern section we found the Khan el-Umdan which was a caravanserai built in 1785 and was easily found by its tall clock tower, a later addition. The name means "Inn of the Pillars", which were looted from Caesarea. South of this was the fishing port. We followed the old sea wall around with a very rough sea crashing against it. The Citadel houses the Museum of Heroism, dedicated to the Jewish resistance fighters. There was a mass breakout from the prison in 1947. The Citadel started as a Crusader castle, then rebuilt by the Turks and finally used as a British stronghold. Entering the complex, we toured the old prison, watched a movie on the breakout and viewed the city from the top of castle, where a gust of wind blew out a lens of my glasses and I lost the screw. I had a spare pair in my sack.

The 1781 el-Jazzar Mosque dominates Akko's skyline with its green dome and minaret. We entered the quiet expanse, with a dozen cats prowling around. Inside the spacious mosque, a local lad who was about to pray told us about it and told us to visit the huge water tank beneath the courtyard, which indeed was impressive. The entrance to the subterranean Crusader city was right across the street from the mosque. The street level of the old city is now eight metres below ground. We toured the old vaulted rooms which were being restored. We liked Akko, but we felt that half a morning was enough. I was able to get my glasses repaired at an optician. The rain had stopped, but it was very overcast.

At the bus station, we bought tickets for Safed. Set high amongst beautiful scenery of the Galilee mountains is the holy city of Safed, the highest town in the country situated at over 800 metres above sea level. Apparently, it is much favoured by travellers in the summer, especially the artists' quarter but when we arrived it was cold and wet and looked very unappealing. A well known woman called Shoshanna Briefer saw us at the bus station and told us that she had a room. We decided to check it out, climbing the hills. When we saw it, it was a dingy four bed room and over priced. We were not enamoured with Safed and decided to move onto Tiberius, so we returned to the bus station.

Tiberius, on the shores of the Sea of Galilee was a modern lakeside tourist base. We arrived at dusk, getting a good view of the lake from the bus en route. From the bus station, we headed for the Aviv Hotel. A local touting for business happened to be from that hotel so we accompanied him. For £8 each, we got a comfortable if spartan en suite room and hot showers. Maybe we were just tired from the uncomfortable ferry crossing, or the constant travelling, the miserable weather or my flu, but we both fell asleep and never woke until the following morning.

Monday December 30th - Tiberius, Jerusalem

The sun was back. We walked into town and visited a supermarket. Shocked at the prices, we bought enough to snack and changed some money. We walked along the lake side. Every restaurant (which was closed for the season) had cordoned off a section, so you could not actually get to the lake. About a mile out of town, we found a gate open and sat by the lake in the sun. We could have rented bicycles and pedalled around the Sea of Galilee, but the lake was covered in mist and the lake side road shuddered with huge trucks. It did not look like a memorable experience.

Jerusalem looked like a better bet, so we bearded a 1pm bus going to the capital. All these bus rides were not cheap, but we couldn't afford to rent a car either. It was only a two hour drive south near the Jordanian border which covered the top third of Israel. I kept forgetting how small Israel was. The bus was, as always, full of teenage soldiers with their guns and mobile phones. Arriving at the central bus station, we caught a Number 1 bus to Damascus Gate, with the familiar security man on board. On our earlier visit, we had seen some hostels across the road from the Gate which looked ok. We tried out the "Palm Hostel". For £6 each we got our own dusty room of bunk beds. It was pretty awful, but cheap. Later we discovered that there were no hot showers. The place was run by a bunch of English kids who looked like they didn't have a clue what they were doing there. Nevertheless, it was a convenient base to explore the Old City.

The Israelite King David made Jerusalem his capital after he conquered it in 997BC. In 586BC it fell to the Babylonians who destroyed the First Temple and exiled the inhabitants. Alexander the Great conquered it in 331BC and the Romans in 63BC. The First Revolt by the Jews around 66AD led to the Second Temple being destroyed and further Jewish exile.There was a Second Revolt in 132. The legalisation of Christianity in 331 led to building of churches and basilicas and the resurgence of the city. In 638 Jerusalem fell to the Persians. For a time Christians, Muslims and Jews were all permitted access to the city but persecution of non Muslims in the 10th Century led to the Crusades. The Crusaders held the city from 1099 but lost it to Saladin in 1187. In 1517 the Ottoman Turks took it over. Large scale Jewish immigration commenced from the 1860s when the country began to fall apart. The city was a hotbed of Arab-Jewish nationalistic struggle between the World Wars. The 1948 war of lndependence ended with the Old City and east Jerusalem in Arab hands and a Jewish New City. The Six Day War in 1967 saw the city reunited under Israeli rule. The city continues to play a key role in the Palestine problem. According to Israeli opponents, the Jewish state has no right to declare Jerusalem its capital.

The Old City is divided into five areas - the Armenian, Christian, Muslim and Jewish Quarters and the Temple Mount/Haram esh-Sharifarea. They tend to overlap. We entered via the markets around Damascus Gate and negotiated our way through endless crowded alleyways of various stalls - food, clothes, souvenir, carpets etc. I was used to places like this. We just followed our noses and ended up at the Lutheran Church where we ascended the tower to get a view over the city at sunset. We looked across the city to the sun reflecting off the gold dome at Temple Mount and over the church of the Holy Sepulchre next door.

The Christian Quarter is centred around the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, an ugly conglomeration of architectural styles piled together over the centuries on the site generally agreed to be where Jesus was crucified, buried and resurrected. When we entered it, we found it awash with tour groups. You could hardly move as they milled around the place where Jesus was laid after being taken down off the cross, and where he was resurrected. The church looked interesting, but not in this atmosphere. It was dark outside and the stalls were starting to shut. We headed for the hostel and decided to go looking for a better hostel near the Jewish ghetto at George's Church. We walked for over an hour trying to pin down the place which turned out to be within the church complex. It had also quadrupled in price and at $90 a room, we passed. We walked down to the New City and found a pizza cafe and ate a huge cheese and mushroom pizza for £10 while Jewish-American teenagers hung out everywhere.

Tuesday December 31st - Jerusalem

We rose before daybreak and headed back into the Old City and wandered through the now empty alleys until we reached the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which was also nearly empty. We were able to explore the church in silence until the 6.30am service started with a magnificent organ booming out. It was completely different to yesterday. There were many nooks and crannies to explore. You could feel the history dripping off the walls.

Moving on, we headed for the holiest of esplanades called Haram esh Sharif or Dome of the Rock. It is also known as the Temple Mount. The area is sacred to Jews, Muslims and Christians. It is a walled area within the Old City Walls and there are eight access gates, only two of which are open to non Muslims. We entered the one next to the Wailing Wall around 7.30am We had to go through two security checks to get into the area. Jo was asked to put on a long skirt over her leggings. There are two large mosques on the site. The El-Aqsa Mosque is believed to be the Crusader Church of St Mary converted into a mosque. It was empty and obviously well. used. The Dome of the Rock, also known as the Mosque of Omar was built around 690 and very beautiful inside. In both places we took off our shoes. Inside the mosque is the sacred rock upon which Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and from which Mohammed began his night journey. The carpets were very plush and the gold leaf decoration was abundant. It was obvious that it had been modernised but it was still magnificent. The sun was now up and we strolled around the area and went through a small but interesting museum, that had as one of its exhibits, the blood stained clothes of a 1993 massacre at the site.

Immediately outside the Temple Mount, the Western Wall is often referred to by non Jews as the Wailing Wall because the Jews have traditionally come here to mourn the Temple's destruction. It is part of the retaining wall built by Herod in 20BC to support the Temple's esplanade. It seemed massive above the bowing heads of the Jewish men below. There were separate sections for men and women. I had to put on a paper cap to enter. Up against the wall, I could see hundreds of pieces of paper rolled into balls and stuffed into cracks in the wall. There was a sign saying "No Begging", but we were still bothered by a Jewish man with a huge beard. When he lifted his beard he had a plastic device in his neck. It was the first time I had seen a tracheotomy.

It was after 9am and we felt that we had seen Jerusalem's most famous sights at the best time. Few people around and a quiet atmosphere. As we left the Wailing Wall, tour groups were queuing up at the security checks. We walked back through the market to Jaffa Gate, where we decided to walk around the old walls. The Old City walls are the legacy of Suleyman the Magni~cent and were built between 1537 and 1542, but have been renovated since. One of the best ways to see the Old City and its surroundings is to stroll around the ramparts. There are seven open gates. Jaffa Gate was the start of the old road to Jaffa. The West wall is dominated by the minaret and towers of the Citadel. Damascus Gate is both the most attractive and the most crowded. There are also Herod's Gate, St Stephen's Gate, Dung Gate, Zion Gate and the New Gate. The views from the walls were exhilarating. It was interesting to see the water tanks above the roofs being heated by the sun. The washing was also hung out on the roof.

At Damascus Gate, we could look down on the markets. Two soldiers were also posted there on look out. The Golden Dome of the Rock dominated the city landscape. On the eastern side of the City, small kids in playgrounds would demand Shekals as we walked over them, and threw stones when we refused. They did not expect the size of stone I lobbed back and ran off in panic, laughing once they were out of shell shot. It was a very enjoyable stroll which took a couple of hours. We had to descend at the Temple Mount.

The Via Dolorosa, the route traditionally believed to have been followed by Jesus as he carried his cross to Calvary, spans the Muslim and Christian quarters, but is based much more on faith than on real history. The Ecce Home Arch is supposed to be where Pontius Pilate looked down at Jesus to say 'Behold Your King'. We followed this street back to the Muslim section, watching many tour groups doing the "Fourteen Stages of the Cross" tour.

The Israeli Museum was on the itinerary for the afternoon. We walked to King George Street in the New City to catch a number 9 bus there to find that it was not due to open until 4pm Up the hill from the Museum was the Knesset, Israeli's Parliament. Someone at the bus stop had told us we could visit it. It was a large flat building, sealed off with dogs and barbed wire. Although there was a sign saying that it was closed to visitors, we saw some people going in and waited in line. Eventually, we were put through a tight security procedure - having our passports, cameras, bags removed. We were told we could stay for half an hour until 4pm when Parliament was in session. We walked up the wide concourse and into a seemingly empty building. Up some steps to a viewing gallery behind thick bullet proofglass, we could see three cameras permanently set on the speakers' box. Someone was making a speech to half a dozen people, including a chairman of sorts next to him who looked half asleep. It was strange to here a Jewish speech with English words in it. I heard the phase 'Talking Turkey" after a remark about President Clinton.

We left them to their politics and returned to the Museum which was famed for its possession of the Dead Sea Scrolls. A friendly woman told us what was there and informed us of a free tour at 4.30pm We had time to see some of the scrolls before that. They were underground under a huge 'nipple" shaped fountain. Fragments of ancient history. We then had a superb 2 hour tour of some of the museum's most interesting exhibits, including some synagogues that had been moved there. I had not expected the museum to be so interesting, but our guide Alice was excellent. Most people stuck out the tour because she was so good at pacing it. Afterwards, we revisited some of the exhibits and started on other sections including Modern Art. There was a wide array of exhibits. Finally we went to see the "Gauguin and the School of Ponte Avon" exhibition. We had not expected to spend five hours there and were exhausted by it. Even then, we had not walked around the outside exhibits.

A bus took us back to the New City, where we found another pizza joint and had another huge £10 pizza with a lot more toppings. We walked back to the hostel through packed treets out to celebrate New Year. Alcohol seemed virtually non existent. Back at the hostel by 11pm, we were too tired to stay up. I celebrated New Year by having a cold shower and going to sleep!

Wednesday January Ist 1997 - West Bank, Jerico

It was a public holiday in Israel. We decided to move into the West Bank and do Jericho. At the Arab bus station near the hostel we got a bus up past the Mount of Olives, where service taxis were available. We found one available for 6 shekels each. As we sipped tea, waiting for other passengers, an Israeli soldier, looking very concerned, called me over to criticize my wearing of shorts. '"These people, they are laughing at you" he said. "It is no problem" I said, 'I am used to it". He decided not to shoot me and let me go. From Jerusalem to Jericho you descend from 820 metres above sea level to 250 metres below sea level in less than an hour and down to 395 metres below sea level at the Dead Sea. My ears popped on the journey. You pass the site of the Good Samaritan en route. It is start of the Judean Desert and arid landscapes predominate.

Jericho is best known for the biblical account of Joshua and the tumbling walls. Its warm climate makes a pleasant alternative to cold Jerusalem in the winter. We were dropped in the main square with its police station, municipality building, service taxi rank and moneychangers. It was only 8am and we wanted to find somewhere to stay before we toured the area. We walked up Ein es-Sultan St to what the guidebook called the 'large and shabby" Hisham Palace Hotel' "which is the sole place to stay". It was very shabby, and very unclean. The Arab receptionist was nice but did not speak English. We thought we were getting a room for 60 shekels. When we saw the state of the toilets, we were not very convinced and when we returned downstairs to discover that it was 60 shekels each, we immediately collected our bags and left. £12 each for a terrible slum. We walked back to the square where an old man in his car chatted to us about being a guide. We didn't need a guide but we needed a room. He drove us to the "New Jericho Pension" which I had spotted when we entered the town. There was an old owner, who was willing to rent out an on suite room out for 60 shekels. It was clean, even had a TV, and we could get a hot shower. There was one problem. A pigeon had decided to nest in the bathroom ventilation and had babies. No problem for us.

Sorted, we set off on our explorations. We used our old man to take us to the ruins of ancient Jericho. These were a bit of a disappointment, since they were really just hills of sand with a few excavations. It did not really give you an idea of what the site would have looked like. The surrounding hills which acted as a backdrop looked much more interesting. I watched a Japanese tourist literally pull an old pile of stones apart for souvenirs. They must rebuild the place weekly. We chatted to the Arab ticket collector who was very friendly and offered us tea. He gave us directions for our next destination. We left the Japanese getting camel rides outside the ruins and walked through the irrigated and very healthy looking crops towards the hills.

We were headed for the Mount and Monastery of Temptation. Rebuilt in the late 1800s, the 12th century Greek Orthodox monastery clings to the cliffside on the traditional site where the Devil tempted Jesus. The sun was up and it was very hot and dusty. We ascended the steep climb, where a monk let us in and took us to the small church. The monks' rooms hung off the edge with a superb view over the whole area. It was a long drop down. We managed to see it all in silence, before an Italian tour group ascended.

Back down at ground level, we walked along Jiftlik Road towards Hisham's Palace, stopping off en route to see the remains of a 6th Century mosque mosaic floor. Hisham's Palace known in Arabic as Khirbet al-Mafjar are the impressive ruins of a 8th Century hunting lodge. It had been destroyed by an earthquake before it was completely finished, but wonderful mosaics survived along with the foundations. It was really hot now. We let the German tour group pass and tried to imagine what it must have been like with the baths and fountains.

On our way back to Jericho, we helped to push start an Arab truck whose clutch had given up. Walking through the well watered crops in lovely sunshine, it made a pleasant change from noisy, pushy Jerusalem. Back in town, we pottered around the streets. It was all very relaxed, and obviously cheaper than the city. We were able to buy bread, lemonade etc. We were running out of money. There were no banks open so we tried a money changer. The rate on traveller's cheques was awful but he said that the Arab bank would be open tomorrow. He changed some English currency for the going rate. He also showed us his old British Palestinian passport from 1929 and told us that an Israeli soldier had shot some Arabs in Hebron which he thought was a terrible way to start the New Year.

In the evening, we walked downtown to a popular street cafe where we were able to try felafal kebabs, sheep livers, and salad. It was the most popular place in town with a steady flow of customers.

Thursday January 2nd - Dead Sea

Surprisingly, there appeared to be no local buses. We wanted to visit the Dead Sea. The service taxis only seemed to run into Jerusalem. The only choice appeared to be to walk out of town 6km to the main highway - Route 1 - and catch a bus down to the Dead Sea. We walked a mile or so out of town. A local schoolteacher was headed for school and asked if we wanted a lift. Yes please, even if it was only a couple of kilometres. It was hot dusty walking. Large Mercedes taxis roared past us, but they were all full. We reached the highway and saw a bus stop. An old woman said that she was waiting for a bus going to Qumran which was also our destination. She expected one in ten minutes. It arrived on time, but never stopped. The next one wasn't due for an hour. We decided to set off on foot along Route 1 until we reached the road going south. Maybe we could hitch from there. It was a long slog through the desert. There wasn't much traffic and it was very hot.

Reaching Route 90 we turned south and traffic virtually dried up. A minibus pulled up with the woman inside. We got in and after the driver asked for an ludicrous fare, we haggled it down with the woman's help. We were dropped at the site entrance of Qumran. Described as 'the most important discovery in the history of the Jewish people', the Dead Sea Scrolls, now on display in Jerusalem were found here in 1947. The site includes the settlement and caves of the Essenes, a Jewish sect who wrote the scrolls between 150BC and 68AD when the Romans dispersed them. The site was really just reconstructed stone walls and left no real impression. We could see one of the famous caves in a sandstone cliff. I wondered how anyone had managed to climb up to it. We walked down the road two more miles to Ein Feshka, also known as Einot Zuqim (Spring of Cliffs), the nature reserve that offers bathing in both freshwater pools and the Dead Sea. There was outstanding mountain scenery to keep us company before we reached the lush green oasis of Ein Feshka. It was supposedly a steep 25 shehel entrance fee, but since the park was only open for a couple of hours more, we were charged 10. Having no change, the local arab let us in for 5 shekels each.

The high salt density of the Dead Sea, which makes it impossible for bathers to sink, makes it a unique natural phenomenon. The Dead Sea is 386 metres below sea level and at present is about 65km in length and 18km across at its widest point. The water's salt concentration is about 30%, compared to 4% for ordinary sea water.

We walked down through the tall reeds, past an Arab family having a picnic until we reached the sea on a sandy outcrop. Fresh water ran continuously from a hose and later I was to find out why. It was very shallow with a mud bottom. You could walk out hundreds of feet before it reached your waist. It smelt of salt everywhere. I floated around on my front, on my back on my side. It made no difference. I couldn't sink. Strange sensation. When the water accidentally touched my lips, it was a sharp salty taste that made you instantly want water. I had to come out to quench my thirst. I lay around and read my book in the sea. I had also heard of the healing powers of the mud, so I covered myself from top to toe in the mud. Some got into my eyes and the saltiness blinded me. I had to stagger out to find the hosepipe to rinse out my eyes which were stinging with pain. The Arab family had joined us. The women could not take off their clothes, so they followed their brother into the sea, gradually immersing themselves, shoes included.

That interesting experience completed, we had to head back. It was 4pm and we hoped there might be a bus heading back to Jerusalem. As we walked through the park, we saw a strange long furry mammal ran across the track - a mongoose I think. We reached the bus stop and a bus suddenly appeared from nowhere. It was the Eilat-Jerusalem express. We climbed into a packed bus and had to pay £5 each and stand all the way to the Jericho turnoff, but it was a lot easier than walking. No sooner had we started walking back to Jericho, when Jo's thumb attracted three Arab men in a beat up car who offered us a ride into town. They seemed thrilled to have a western woman on board. We were back so quickly, we forgot just far we had walked earlier in the day. I calculated about 15 miles. We chatted to people in the square and then walked back to the hostel room and pigeons to watch the sunset sitting on the balcony. In the evening, we returned to the same restaurant for another cheap filling meal.

Friday January 3rd - Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Hebron

Judging by the bus prices yesterday, we would not have enough money to reach Masada fiuther south by the Dead Sea. We would have to return to Jerusalem for funds and return on a later day. It was no problem to our schedule, because we still wanted to do Bethlehem anyway. Catching a now familiar service taxi, at dawn, we returned to the taxi rank and the army road checks, and got a bus back to Damascus Gate. We checked out a different hostel called the New Raghadan Hostel - "the Happiest House in Jerusalem", just up the road from the Palm Hostel and substantially superior. We had to wake up the female owner who told us to leave our packs and there would be a room available when we got back for 70 shekels.

Walking round to the Jaffa Gate, we attempted to get a bus to Bethlehem We could not see any bus with the number we wanted. We returned to a taxi rank near the hostel where we found an almost full minibus going our way and for 2 Shekels each. The driver negotiated the busy Jerusalem traffic to Bethlehem just to the east ofthe Hebron road. Walking through packed streets and a small market, we reached the town centre, Manger Square, which was dominated by parked cars, tour buses and taxis. There was the strange site of a Finnish man, dressed as Father Christmas, handing out free sweets to everyone entering the Church of the Nativity nearby.

This Church is built like a citadel over the cave where it is believed that Jesus was born. The church was fought over by the Crusaders and more recently by various Christian sects. It was a lovely old building with wooden columns and a dusty atmosphere over exposed mosaics beneath the wooden floorboards. You descended into the "cave" to see a very ornate area and a marble sanctuary highlighting the birthplace. A handful of Germans were having a service in German. Visiting nuns posed by the birthplace for their photos We explored the church which emptied of the tour groups soon after we arrived.

It didn't take long to explore Bethlehem's crowded streets. After a cup of mint tea in the sunshine, we walked down to the main road and decided to try and get into Hebron. We didn't know what was there, or even if we would be let in. We found another Arab minibus going there for 4 Shekels each.

As the burial place of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the city of Hebron is holy to Jews, Muslim and Christians. The Cave of Machpelah/Tomb of the Patriarchs makes this mainly Arab city a centre of fierce opposition to Jewish occupation in general and to Jewish settlement in Hebron in particular. Religious Jewish settlers have re-established the Jewish community in Hebron. This is a major cause of the high tension in town. We were let out near the colourful market. There were obviously no tourists in this town. It came across as a bustling market town. In the market, we saw an entire skinned camel (except for the head which still had fur) hanging up at a butchers. Apparently, the local cafes served camel meat, but did not have it on the menu. The trick was to ask the butcher to which restaurant he sold the camel meat too, and then go and order a meat dish.

At the end of the crowded market, we came across, completely by accident, the spot where the "International Incident" had taken place two days before. At an army post, an Israeli soldier had fired on 5 local Arabs, only to be jumped on by a fellow Israeli soldier. That was all we knew. We spotted Israeli soldiers, special security forces, UN observers and a flock of media - either camera crews or freelance photographers. The local Arabs were all in the synagogue and someone was stirring them up with political speeches over loudspeakers. Hundreds of people milled around the edge of the market waiting for something to happen.

We got talking to an old Englishman (white beard, straw hat) who was freelancing. He told us that a couple of molotov cocktails had been thrown less than half an hour before, and that army trucks had been pelted by stones. They were all waiting to see if there was a riot after the political agitation. Despite the obvious tension, noone made a move. I discovered that the man knew my old LSE Professor D.C Watt. He filled us in on the political situation. Pretending to be press (despite my shorts), I was allowed to take pictures of the soldiers and the Uzi submachine guns. There was a big commotion and the mosque emptied out. Everyone dispersed peacefully and there were no problems. It had been interesting to spend an hour and watch an International Incident in the making. The media were just vultures waiting to pick at the scraps.

The journalist had given us directions to the Hebron's most famous sight just up the road. The Cave of Machpelah (Haram el-Khalil) is sacred to all three monotheistic faiths. To Jews it is second only to Jerusalem's Western Wall and to Muslims it comes second in the Holy Land only to Jerusalem's Haram esh-Sharif. A large fortress-like structure stands over the cave where Abraham is supposedly buried. Adam and Eve too supposedly. The site has a chequered history; when the Crusaders conquered Hebron in 1100 there was a mosque and synagogue on the site. They destroyed the synagogue, converted the mosque into a church and massacred the Jews and Muslims.

We had to go through two rigorous security checks to get into it - x-ray machines, passport check and bag emptying. There had been a massacre there a few years ago, and now, noone was taking nay chances. After the hassle getting in, we found little to see. A Jewish religious ceremony was going on in one room. As we exited, a minibus of Jewish men arrived with bags of food to apparently have a picnic in the grounds. Walking through the streets, there was little else to see, so we found a service taxi to take us back to Bethlehem and then caught another Jerusalem. We entered the Old City to have a look at the stalls. We ended up buying a couple of dishes - our sole souvenirs of the entire trip. More interestingly, we got into a conversation with an Arab man who was a religious fanatic and preached about the Koran and how it was all coming true. A Jewish lad whom he knew passed by and joined in the conversation about life, faith and everything. It was very good natured and comical. If I gave him a question that he couldn't answer, he would say "Very good" and move on to his next point. We were there over an hour throwing around ideas. Since it was the Sabbath, everything was shut in the New City in the evening. We wandered around empty streets and returned to an Arab bakery to buy bread and cookies.

Saturday January 5th - Jerusalem

Our room at the hostel was clean, but the showers were still cold! It was the penultimate day, and we had almost completed our schedule. We had a free day to drift around the Old City revisiting places and watching everyday life. We explored the various quarters in more detail and liked the Arab section best (probably because of the prices).

East of the Old City, passing through St Stephen's Gate, we ascended the Mount of Olives (where Jesus was supposedly arrested and later ascended to heaven). It was a lovely sunny day and the views were magnificent. A flock of sheep and herd of goats ate anything in sight, though vegetation was sparse. They liked the olives which had dropped from the trees. The shepherd would throw stones to keep them in the right areas. Taking in the views and sunbathing, we returned to the bottom and explored an underground church, though we never found out what it was called. The Old City was bustling with tour groups today, especially Americans. I counted thirty tour buses from the Mount. In the market, I saw inflatable Yasser Arafat dolls at inflated places.

Later in the day, we explored the New City and the ultra-orthodox Jewish district called Mea Sle'arim. It is the only remaining example of a 'shtetl' (ghetto) like those in pre-Holocaust Eastern Europe. It was just north of the downtown area and was established in 1875. The Jewish families were all headed for the synagogues at the end of their Sabbath. They were dressed in traditional costumes (men in fur hats and decorative jackets, or completely in black - like members of the Mafia with beards and curls). We took a couple of photos before we were warned off. In general, we found many of the Israeli's to be unfriendly, inhospitable and miserable. The young Jews were arrogant and wanted to be Americans. The older generation just wanted to be left alone. I think that of all the supposed Jewish comedy that is famous around the world, very little must come from Israel itself.

From our hostel roof, I watched the sun set over the Old City. We ate a evening dinner of kebabs (what else!) in a restaurant in the Old City that did a good deal. At night, the alleyways of stalls were all locked up and narrow motorised road sweepers would clean up the streets. It was a very clean place and well maintained.

Sunday January 6th - Masada

The final day and a hectic one. We were up at dawn and left our packed bags at the hostel. We caught a local bus to the Central Bus Station to try and get a 7am bus to Masada. All buses in that direction went onto Eilat and they were very crowded. Even when we got onto a bus, we were moved three times because we were in "reserved seats" (there were no signs). The bus took us west out of Jerusalem along the familiar road towards Jericho and then down by the edge of the Dead Sea, past Qumran, Ein Feshka, Ein Gedi to Massada. It was a lengthy drive and expensive (£10 one way). As we approached the sight, there were extensive stretches of dried up wadis (river beds) that indicated that downpours must occur sometime during the year.

Combining a spectacular setting with a dramatic history, the mountain-top fortress of Masada is well up on the list of 'must dos' for visitors to Israel. Herod built this formidable and luxurious palace refuge around 35BC and it was captured from the Romans during the First Revolt on 66AD. The Romans recaptured Jerusalem in 70AD and advanced on this last Jewish stronghold three years later. When defeat was inevitable the 967 men, women and children atop Masada committed suicide (only seven survived). Masada today is used as a symbol for modem Israel with the oath that 'Masada shall not fall again'.

The site and views are superb and you can reach the top by cable car or on foot. We anticipated the high cable car charge (£6 return for about 3 minutes each way on top of the £3 site charge) and decided to walk up the impressive looking cliffs via the Snake Pass. Isolated as it was, the cafes could charge double for mineral water, but we found local water tanks to get around it. Young muntjacks (deer) hung around the area. We ascended the tough climb in half an hour (not half as tough as Mt Sinai) and entered the site. We were the only people to walk it.

There were a handful of tour groups there, but we were able to pace ourselves around the site and avoid them where necessary or listen to the guides to get further information. They all tended to stick to the main sights like Herod's Palace and the first synagogue. It was a fascinating place, where you could get a good idea of what it was like 2000 years ago. The views were spectacular off sheer cliffs with the Dead Sea about a mile away. We spent four hours there covering every inch. At the other end of the site, we discovered the underground water reservoir which was huge. You could descend into it. I don't think anyone else found it. There were also some interesting baths and mosaics. Herod knew what he was doing when he built himself a palace there.

When we exited, we discovered that the Snake Pass had been shut down , deliberately to force everyone to take the cable car. We argued with security that we did not have any money with us to pay because we thought that we were walking up and down. Finally, they let us squeeze aboard a cable car for free for the rapid descent.

We walked back to the main road and waited for a bus heading north. Again we were lucky. It was a short wait. A bus arrived headed for Ein Gedi which was also our destination. This popular desert oasis has two nature reserves, freshwater springs, waterfalls, pools, desert wildlife and biblical history. The beach is one of the most popular on the Dead Sea (and charges accordingly). When we arrived, we realised that we would not have time to explore the area and headed to the Dead Sea for a rest. Another bus took us all the way back to Jerusalem. It had been a lovely way to spend a final day in Israel.

From the bus station, we walked back to the hostel, picked up our packs and caught a bus back to the bus station. We boarded a bus headed for Tel Aviv. It was dark and we saw nothing. At the Tel Aviv bus station, we had a chinese take away before getting a bus to the airport. It was all just one bus after another. We got to the airport early which was packed. Opting to get the security check over and done with, we were interrogated by a woman and a male trainee. It was as rigourous as the first one, to the extent of asking us to describe places we had been in Israel providing receipts and inspecting our guidebooks to see what was said about Israel. They were especially interested in our Jericho stay -"Did you talk to anyone?"' Oh no" I wanted to say, 'we used sign language".We grinned and beared the process. They decided not to search the bag, but x-rayed it.

That over, we sat and read until midnight, when we attempted to check in. They refused to let us pass because we had not got a security sticker on our packs. We would have to repeat the process. I couldn't believe it. We also did not understand the concept of going through a security check and then being let flee to roam the airport until you boarded. You could stick anything inside your pack and skip a second x-ray. I found our first interrogator and got a sticker from her. We went through to airside, relieved to be on our way. The flight didn't leave until 3am We sat next to a large Israeli man, who insisted on making conversation bragging about Israel. I wasn't in the mood and argued over some of his statements.

We had enjoyed our Middle East trek and had seen some wonderful sights. In summary, Eygpt was cheap and dirty. Jordan was cheap, clean and friendly. Cyprus was comfortable and dull and Israel was expensive and unfriendly, but with some serious historical points. Egypt is still obviously suffering from the tourist drought but the historical sights were staggering. Jordan would become a major tourist centre soon. Cyprus would remain an English tourist resort. I did not intend to revisit Israel.