A serendipitous moment at the pizza joint at Caesaria led my happy group of travelers to meet a gentleman and his two kids, who also had a hankering for some pizza pie. As we sat, eating the cheesy goodness (Cheese was the only available variation of said pizza at said pizza joint), we all chatted and we found out that the British man had actually fallen in love with, and married an Israeli woman, after which he became an Israeli citizen and served his mandatory two years' military service. Ahhh, amore! The couple now lives in Britain, but were traveling in Israel for their holiday. Good ol' Dad had opted to tour the kids around Caesaria that day (lucky us) while his wife attended to a pressing family matter.
Meeting fun people is half of the greatness of travel. We played with the kids, chatting about food and their experiences with Camels and gelatto, related as only six-year-olds can do, with an untainted and wholly fresh attitude. And then we mentioned that we had no plans and no place to stay that night (This being the second night we ought to have spent in Tsafed/Safed/Tzvat, which is NOT near Masada, which is why we left early) and asked if the man could recommend anything in the area.
The closest city to us was Tel Aviv, merely 45 minutes by car. But we immediately agreed, as a no-brainer, not to stay in Tel Aviv, which was being bombed by Hamas at that very moment.
"We stayed at a Camel Ranch in Negev last night. It was lovely. Cheap prices, lovely meals and Camel rides."
A CAMEL RANCH? We all gawked, and immediately accessed the website using our rented ipad. Lovely! Sold! Exciting!
And then the gentleman *may* have mentioned that we would be driving along the Palestinian partition wall for a bit, but with the impending cease-fire (scheduled for that very night at 9pm), that freeway corridor should have calmed down and we'd be fine. And then he *might have* told us a story involving a helicopter and a car that may have been blown up two days prior on the freeway, but really, nothing to be concerned about... right? Right.
So, off we set, right past the Wall that stretched for miles. It was a quiet drive, and many of the other cars on the freeway with us were military vehicles and transports, which wasn't intimidating at all... And then we saw a sight that made our jaws drop. Military helicopters, fully loaded with missiles, flying over us. A wave of "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" flashed briefly through my body. I'm tellin' you what, that doesn't sound like a real feeling, that "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" but IT IS, I can assure you.
And then, being the driver, I had the passenger snap a photo from her window:
We arrived at the Negev Camel Ranch just in time for sunset. The lovely family who ran the camp had no other guests that night, so they graciously offered to accommodate us. One of the hostesses' best selling points was this: "No bombs here." Great! But as we hadn't booked in advance, there wasn't any dinner, and we were hungry!
As we were walking back to the car to go for dinner, one of our group, who has serious allergies, began to wheeze and cough - the desert dust was just too much for her. So a few miles down the highway from the Camel ranch, at a diner, we decided to revise our non-itinerary once more. We'd drive the additional two hours (in the dark, along the dead sea, which I'd already driven once and was not thrilled to do at night) to Masada and try for a room at the Masada hostel.
Meeting fun people is half of the greatness of travel. We played with the kids, chatting about food and their experiences with Camels and gelatto, related as only six-year-olds can do, with an untainted and wholly fresh attitude. And then we mentioned that we had no plans and no place to stay that night (This being the second night we ought to have spent in Tsafed/Safed/Tzvat, which is NOT near Masada, which is why we left early) and asked if the man could recommend anything in the area.
The closest city to us was Tel Aviv, merely 45 minutes by car. But we immediately agreed, as a no-brainer, not to stay in Tel Aviv, which was being bombed by Hamas at that very moment.
"We stayed at a Camel Ranch in Negev last night. It was lovely. Cheap prices, lovely meals and Camel rides."
A CAMEL RANCH? We all gawked, and immediately accessed the website using our rented ipad. Lovely! Sold! Exciting!
And then the gentleman *may* have mentioned that we would be driving along the Palestinian partition wall for a bit, but with the impending cease-fire (scheduled for that very night at 9pm), that freeway corridor should have calmed down and we'd be fine. And then he *might have* told us a story involving a helicopter and a car that may have been blown up two days prior on the freeway, but really, nothing to be concerned about... right? Right.
So, off we set, right past the Wall that stretched for miles. It was a quiet drive, and many of the other cars on the freeway with us were military vehicles and transports, which wasn't intimidating at all... And then we saw a sight that made our jaws drop. Military helicopters, fully loaded with missiles, flying over us. A wave of "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" flashed briefly through my body. I'm tellin' you what, that doesn't sound like a real feeling, that "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" but IT IS, I can assure you.
And then, being the driver, I had the passenger snap a photo from her window:
We arrived at the Negev Camel Ranch just in time for sunset. The lovely family who ran the camp had no other guests that night, so they graciously offered to accommodate us. One of the hostesses' best selling points was this: "No bombs here." Great! But as we hadn't booked in advance, there wasn't any dinner, and we were hungry!
View from the Camel Ranch, just in time for sunset.
A military blimp, floating directly over the Camel Ranch.
Another, impromptu round of "Interpret that sign"
NB: a friend recently asked me why there was a symbol for ovaries on that sign...
As we were walking back to the car to go for dinner, one of our group, who has serious allergies, began to wheeze and cough - the desert dust was just too much for her. So a few miles down the highway from the Camel ranch, at a diner, we decided to revise our non-itinerary once more. We'd drive the additional two hours (in the dark, along the dead sea, which I'd already driven once and was not thrilled to do at night) to Masada and try for a room at the Masada hostel.
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