From sea to shining sea.

 Well, it's official. I am at the infamous Dead Sea. Specifically at a kibbutz near a nature reserve called Ein Gedi. This place is like an oasis in the middle of a very dry stretch of mountainous Israel. The hotel-resort rooms are surrounded by blooming botanical gardens and one side of the land faces the mountains while the other faces the glimmering sea. Presently, I'm listening to an Israeli folk group that has come to put on a concert for the kibbutz. The simple rhythms combined with the fluctuating vocals creates a sound that is foreign but fascinating to me. Of course, I'd have better luck making out German lyrics, but this insignificant fact only adds to the intrigue of the music.

The three hour drive to Ein Gedi from Eilat showed us the side of Israel we hadn't seen on the way down. As a country, Israel is so small that traveling to any city is nothing more than a day's drive. A three-hour bus drive presents many opportunities for entertainment: reading, sleeping, playing games, or even chatting with the friendly person next to you. But personally, I prefer to just watch the land. There's something peaceful about observing how the geography changes and moves. Maybe I've just taken so many road trips with my family that I feel like I need to drive through a place to really get a feel for it. In southern Israel, a lot of the terrain looks very similar. There's little vegetation and water is sparse. But look closely and you'll see that the beauty of the desert lies in the curves of the mountains and the brightly colored minerals that dance across the face of the rocks like ribbons. Simply glance and you'll miss it. The Red Sea got its name from the red color of the mountains that surround it. As you move further into Israel (and Jordan, which you can constantly see across the valley/sea), the red gradually fades to lighter and lighter shades of pink. 


When our bus finally reached Ein Gedi, our driver stopped, hollered for anyone going to the kibbutz to get off, and left us at the bottom of a large, steep, hill looking longingly up at the resort. A quick glance to the left and the right revealed few, if any, cars on the road. Calling a cab was out of the question. So, we grabbed our bags, which thankfully had wheels, and began the hike. About halfway up, several cars heading back to the hotel from the resort spa passed us by, many actually rubber-necking as if to say, "wow, that really sucks...too bad you don't have a car like we do" Finally one of the cars pulled over in front of us, popped their trunk and offered us a ride to the top of the hill. They were heaven-sent. We checked in (a grueling process in itself since the woman at the desk barely knew how to use a computer, much less actually input my credit card information), took a look around the luscious grounds, and then headed for kibbutz-style dinner across the campus. The dining hall at the kibbutz looked like a super upscale Luby's. It had high ceilings with a large central chandelier and dozens of numbered tables, waiting for hungry patrons. There were several stations for food, and the options were limitless. Needless to say, we weren't disappointed with our selection, and we'll have the next few days to decide which are our favorites. 


Sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday is Shabbat--the Jewish Sabbath and day of rest. We arrived just before it began, which is fortunate because everything from shops to all types of public transportation completely shut down between those times. The service took place in another part of campus (which is unfortunate because I wanted to sort of hang around and observe), but dinner showed many of the kibbutz residents and visitors dressed in their "Sunday" best for the evening.

Tomorrow we'll begin our Dead Sea spa treatments and the next day head to Massada to hike. Come morning we'll really get a chance to see what the kibbutz is all about.