Izzy's Page: Assertiveness Training in Israel Part 3 of 4: Sitcom in the Desert

Confounding Bedouins

On our second day in Israel, Hannah and I went to a Bedouin camp in the Judean Desert. It was a dramatic point for me because this side trip slowed my metamorphoses into a true Israeli for two days. It's all because the Bedouins in the Judean Desert were as gracious and generous as they are reputed to be.

Oops!

From the closest bus station, you can only reach the Bedouin Camp by taxi or other private transport. In the taxi on the way to the Camp, I realized I didn't have enough cash to pay for all of the taxi fare. I was figured (well hoping) that I could exchange money into Israeli shekels by using my credit card. After all, that was how I paid for our stay. But I was wrong. When we arrived, I caught up with a Bedouin who was passing by, and he told us that they couldn't take credit cards at the Camp. Without flinching he then paid for the rest of the fare for us. It was not added to our bill.

Naturally, at the end of our stay, we were in another bind when we had to take a taxi back to the bus. So a Bedouin family of three drove us back to town in their decrepit 70s pickup truck. I sat in the front seat next to the father, who was driving. He was ranting about something, in Arabic, I think. The mother and the son were in the back; Hannah sat one side of him, the mother on the other. covered from head to toe--we could only see her eyes. For the first time, we understood what Tyra Banks has told models to do for over a decade: "smile with your eyes." She did that! She smiled with her eyes! Too bad she lived in Israel. She coulda been a contendah. When we arrived to the town, the father walked us to the bank; when we got there, without pause he turned around and left. In other words, he did not wait for a tip or any kind of compensation.

Kicking it at the Bedouin Camp

OMG

The Bedouin stay comprised a camel ride and what they aptly called "Bedouin hospitality"-- dinner and a presentation of Bedouin customs.

First thing we did was ride camels amongst a desert scene straight out of a movie. In fact, we might have been in one: a comedy.

The camel ride was glorious. The camel not so much. At first, they were all lying under the shade of an oasis of trees--they tucked their legs underneath themselves, it was so cute! As soon as the Bedouin made them stand up, they made these awful sounds that never really stopped until we got on them. I was surprised how obnoxious they sounded. They weren't like that at the Bronx Zoo. Our camel was brought to us, and we stood by it, waiting for our turn to climb on. Suddenly OUCH--it felt like something hard hit my butt. I looked around and there was the mailto:&@#$% camel looking at me. It had bit my butt! And it hurt! Without saying a word, I moved out of harm's way and kept smiling. We Bedouins know how to handle our camels.

Butthead the Camel

The stays at the Bedouin Camp are arranged so that there is a minimum number of people who go out at once. So they combined us with other tourists. To my utter horror, they were from two bus tours. These people were loud. And self satisfied. And Obnoxious. In short, they were my worst nightmares...typical AMERICAN TOURISTS! These tourists happened to be religious zealots. They were so inspired to be traveling in the footsteps of Christ that they belted out hymns while we were riding the camels. When they weren't singing, every time we went up or down a
slope, an older man in their group regaled us with jokes about the ride's impact his manhood.

Onward Christian Soldiers,
Spectacular Judean Desert

We were so mesmerized by the landscape that we didn't care. We saved our laughing for afterwards.

WOW!

After the camel ride, the Bedouins served delicious tea and apples, took us on a tour of their camp, and then sat us on the beautiful carpets that covered the floor of a huge tent and told us about their way of life. Their camp was in one of 7 or 8 properties that Israel had designated as Bedouin land. They make rich, smooth coffee in the same way for thousands of years. Next Muhammad, a Bedouin who has traveled all over the world with his band, played Bedouin music on his guitar while my daughter played a Bedouin percussion instrument kind of like an old-fashioned candle-maker, a thin barrel with a handle and smaller cap attached. To play it you raise the handle and hit the sides.

Dinner was served in a tent that was huge. Hannah and I sat by ourselves on the floor at one of the low-lying tables. The food was simply delicious. In between dinner and dessert, one of the Christian tourists came over to say hello. A nice, pleasant woman, she shared her story....she was a teacher....she did "bad things" ....she found Jesus, and had a way of life that we needed to try....

Without looking at each other, Hannah and I simultaneously interrupted her and said, "We're Jewish."

It must have been quite a shock to run into two Jewish tourists in Israel. But she took it in stride. At first she continued to tell us about her religiosity, but quickly caught herself and changed topics.

From the Bedouin camp, we traveled a bit north, and visited the astounding and vast ruins at Masada, the last stronghold of the Jews in the Roman era. The ruins overlook the mountains on one side, and the Dead Sea on the other.

We then went down to the Dead Sea and floated. When we got out, we realized that we were about to miss the bus, and the next time it stopped was in another hour or more. We were rushing, it was cold out, and we had to go to the bathroom. In our rush we forgot to to go under the outside shower and rinse the salt off. On the bus, my butt took another beating. Every body part that touched the seat burned. When we finally arrived at our bus stop, we stumbled out the bus, and, as soon as our feet hit the pavement, we raced to the hotel. The remaining passengers probably thought we had diarrhea. They would be half way right. We were racing to the bathroom--but to the shower, not the toilet.