After Syria and a quick detour to Lebanon (to be written about later!) I met up Kate, a friend from college, and attempted to get into Israel.  I very nearly failed.  To future travelers: going to Syria and Lebanon before Israel is really asking for a hassle at the border… but at least they do finally let you in, as opposed to doing it in the other direction!

In any case, I endured several hours of interrogations, including such gems as “While in Syria and Lebanon, did you actually meet any Arabs?” (Hmm, let me think. Nope, I never met a single one!) and “Why don’t you tell us about the political situation here in Israel.” (I’m actually pretty embarrassingly clueless on the whole thing.)  Then, I was let in the country at last!  At least, until the small situation that developed when some young Israeli soldiers found Kate and I at the checkpoint without Israeli visas in our passports - which we’d asked to be stamped separately due to the whole “crazy Muslim countries going jihad on you if you’ve visited Israel before.”  Good news, we did get by eventually, albeit mostly due to a ten-minute shouting match between the guards and our Palestinian driver.  Phew.

In any case, I spent all three days in Jerusalem.  It’s a very religious town, so much of the typical tourist attractions don’t really do much for me.  I took a tour that touched on several of the churches and mosques, the wailing wall, the Mount of Olives, and a few stations of the cross, but I imagine a more devout Christian might have gotten more out this than me.  Actually, the huge crowds of people singing Catholic hymns, carrying wooden crosses, or, as in the case of our hostel, actively witnessing to anyone who will listen, confirmed this!  I was so focused on the Jewish/Muslim thing that I hadn’t even realized that people visit on Christian pilgrimages as well, and apparently the dynamics of the various Christian denominations throughout the city are, well, shaky at best.  Fortunately the different sects are so busy fighting amongst themselves they don’t have time to fight with other religions, I suppose?

Anyways, Jerusalem is a beautiful city.  The Holocaust Museum is really immense, and difficult to do justice to in words.  A must-see on any trip to Israel, and I’m so glad I went after all the anti-Israel propaganda from the rest of the Middle East. The four hours Kate and I had allotted were woefully short.  Our visit to the ultra-Orthodox section of the city was probably one of the more interesting places I’ve been on the trip, but we unfortunately under-dressed (as neither of us brought skirts) and as such couldn’t enter the most traditional street.  Probably a good thing as I don’t think the locals really appreciate the enormous tourist influx come to watch them live their life.

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Anyway!  I’m also going to temporarily skim over Egypt and Jordan, although I’ll likely do quick photo posts for those countries as well, and let you know about my misadventures in India.  First of all, I’ve found India not really any harder than the Middle East, and in some ways much much easier.  Firstly, I’m already battle-hardened to warding off locals at any potential sign of hassle - perhaps too much at this point, as I’m reluctant to talk to anyone sometimes! - and secondly, there are SO many other solo travelers to India, and all of them want to travel with other people.  The travelers to the Middle East and even Central America were much more independent, which made it harder to find little groups to travel with.  I really think I’ve spent only a few hours here in India actually alone.  Finally, the smells are NOT as bad as everyone says.  Or perhaps my nose buds have died.

However, there are some bad parts to traveling here, and that’s what I’m going to talk about now.  I’ll set the stage: I spent Christmas Eve in a little hut on an idyllic beach.  Very basic facilities, but jaw-dropping scenery.  White sand, crashing blue waves, nestled in a bright jungle with smallish mountains framing both sides: the beach even had friendly cows wandering for tourists taking pictures… and large groups of Indian men wandering taking pictures of the tourists.  Sigh.  I’ll post pictures once they’re uploaded.

In any case, my hut was basic.  No attached bathroom - just a communal hole in the ground and a communal jug of water for a shower. There was a fan and there was a mosquito net, but the bed itself was made of concrete and covered with an inch-thick, disgusting, never-changed “mattress” pad - if we can call it that.  Worst of all, I’d heard a rumor of giant cockroaches in the room, so I was a little wary every night.  For the first few nights, I had no problems.  Then… Christmas Eve!

I went out to a restaurant with a large group of travelers from four continents for Christmas.  (Ok, so four continents kind of overstates the diversity: we were all North American, European, Australian, or Israeli… so not really very surprising at all for the backpacker crowd.)  I returned home beat, a little tired, and probably having drunk too much beer.  After all, it was CHRISTMAS!  While trying to sleep, I was woken up by some rustling at my feet, but assumed I had accidentally kicked my bag or something, which I was cleverly keeping off of the floor to get it away from any cockroaches.  Then… I woke up to a rustling in my HAIR.

Let me repeat that: I was woken up on Christmas Eve at 5AM, slightly drunk, to something brushing against MY HAIR.  I almost continued to sleep through it (don’t ask me how) until I remembered the cockroaches.  Then jumped straight to the light.

First, the good news.  It wasn’t a cockroach.  And… that’s pretty much the end of the good news, because what it actually was, was a RAT.  IN MY HAIR.  IN MY BED.  ON CHRISTMAS EVE. With the light on, it was basically freaking out and running from one end of the bed to the other, trapped inside the mosquito net and scrabbling to get out.  I quickly retired to the hole in the ground bathroom it give it time to escape without my between it and the door.  On the way out, I saw it come flying out of the door, literally as high in the air as my doorknob… had my room had a doorknob, which it didn’t.  Well, at least it wasn’t there anymore!

So long story short:  I spent Christmas on a beautiful tropical beach, but I didn’t get much sleep.