Twice in the holy land, my small group of travelers and dared to rent a car. Twice, we took our lives into our hands and faced middle-eastern drivers head-on (sometimes literally), venturing out of the bounds of Jerusalem. I was our driver.
And I'm rather proud of the fact that not one of the ridiculous amount of bumps, scratches, scrapes and other damage to our cars was caused by yours truly. Not bad for the girl who's boss said she was going to total her rental car while on a work assignment in NYC. (Not a scratch on that one either, thankyouverymuch!) In fact, I came to think of myself as a reincarnated Israeli driver, so suited was my own personal driving style to their crazy no-boundaries and no-personal-space-existsts way of driving.
I'm not sure I should be so proud. But I am.
Many of the more than 1,500 kilmeters I drove while in Israel were spent alongside the Dead Sea. Sometimes the highway was high and twisty, sometimes low and desert-ous. There were spots where you could see an older version of the same highway, now obsolete and growing back into the unforgiving terrain, sinking lower and lower into the salty, rich earth. There were segments covered in fields of Palm trees, being farmed for harvest and transplantation to other places in the region. The stretches of the sea furthest (NORTH?) are divided into slices by large mounds of salt. Long, white salt walls allow harvesting of minerals for nearby factories.
Israel is a place I would have LOVED to have XM radio. I WISH I'd had XM. Or Satellite. Or a stereo cord to plug my iPhone into the car stereo with. Because, my friends, driving 1500 miles with only local radio stations full of The Call to Prayer, Arabic news (possibly?), some kind of angry preaching in Arabic (again, ?), miles of static, and sometimes, a classical station. (Hallelujah! And boy oh boy am I ever grateful to my 6th grade teacher, Mr. LaRue for teaching me to love classical music!)
So amidst the long lengths of radio silence, mostly just along the Dead Sea, my mind created it's own soundtrack each of the four times we drove the length of that body of salt water. Every time that beautifully blue/green deathly saline oasis appeared, The Lumineers began to play their perfectly appropriately named song.
"Like the Dead Sea/You told me I was like the Dead Sea/You'll never sink when you are with me/Oh, Lord, like the Dead Sea
Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea/The finest words you ever said to me/Honey can't you see/I was born to be, be your Dead Sea"
Funny how songs can make certain memories really come alive.
And I'm rather proud of the fact that not one of the ridiculous amount of bumps, scratches, scrapes and other damage to our cars was caused by yours truly. Not bad for the girl who's boss said she was going to total her rental car while on a work assignment in NYC. (Not a scratch on that one either, thankyouverymuch!) In fact, I came to think of myself as a reincarnated Israeli driver, so suited was my own personal driving style to their crazy no-boundaries and no-personal-space-existsts way of driving.
I'm not sure I should be so proud. But I am.
Many of the more than 1,500 kilmeters I drove while in Israel were spent alongside the Dead Sea. Sometimes the highway was high and twisty, sometimes low and desert-ous. There were spots where you could see an older version of the same highway, now obsolete and growing back into the unforgiving terrain, sinking lower and lower into the salty, rich earth. There were segments covered in fields of Palm trees, being farmed for harvest and transplantation to other places in the region. The stretches of the sea furthest (NORTH?) are divided into slices by large mounds of salt. Long, white salt walls allow harvesting of minerals for nearby factories.
Israel is a place I would have LOVED to have XM radio. I WISH I'd had XM. Or Satellite. Or a stereo cord to plug my iPhone into the car stereo with. Because, my friends, driving 1500 miles with only local radio stations full of The Call to Prayer, Arabic news (possibly?), some kind of angry preaching in Arabic (again, ?), miles of static, and sometimes, a classical station. (Hallelujah! And boy oh boy am I ever grateful to my 6th grade teacher, Mr. LaRue for teaching me to love classical music!)
So amidst the long lengths of radio silence, mostly just along the Dead Sea, my mind created it's own soundtrack each of the four times we drove the length of that body of salt water. Every time that beautifully blue/green deathly saline oasis appeared, The Lumineers began to play their perfectly appropriately named song.
"Like the Dead Sea/You told me I was like the Dead Sea/You'll never sink when you are with me/Oh, Lord, like the Dead Sea
Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea/The finest words you ever said to me/Honey can't you see/I was born to be, be your Dead Sea"
Funny how songs can make certain memories really come alive.
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