The down side of traveling alone

During my time here in the Sea of Galilee region, I've done some more "touristy" things, in addition to visiting the sites of religious significance and taking time for silence and worship in this sacred place. It's at the moments when I'm doing those more "vacation-like" activities that I most notice the absence of my husband and feel lonely traveling alone.

Sunday evening, I went down to Tiberias and walked on the boardwalk by the Sea of Galilee. I had dinner at a nice restaurant, sitting outdoors on the boardwalk and looking out at the lake. There I got my taste of "St. Peter's fish," a fish native to the waters of the Sea of Galilee that supposedly has been living in these waters since before the time of Jesus, and thus the fish that Peter and James and Andrew and all the other disciples who were fishermen before Jesus came along would have been catching. When the waiter brought my plate, I was in for a bit of a surprise -- the entire fish, lying on my plate, head and fins and all!

This really put my new fish-eating habits to the test! When I became a vegetarian, part of the reason was because it felt hypocritical to me for me to eat meat that was slaughtered and prepared by other people when I knew I wouldn't be able to do so myself. I felt like if I was going to eat meat, I should be able to catch it and kill it and prepare it myself. (Incidentally, this is why I've always had respect for hunters as a vegetarian, but not for those meat-eaters who give hunters a hard time ("Oh, don't kill Bambi's mother!") and then go order a Big Mac at McDonald's.) When I started eating fish recently, I reasoned that I could probably deal with fishing... I'd probably be able to catch and prepare a fish if I needed to. Well, here was the test of that! Could I eat this very un-disguised fish in its natural state? I did... and managed not to get TOO grossed out.

Sunday night I also went to a worship service at St. Andrew's Church near the Tiberias boardwalk. It's part of the Church of Scotland, in partnership with the Anglican and Lutheran churches in the Holy Land, and services are in English.

Monday I went up to Safed (Tzfat), the hilltown above the Sea of Galilee that is famous as the spiritual home of Kabbalah, the Jewish mysticism. Unfortunately, I didn't really know what I was looking for, despite the guide book I'd picked up from my hostel with map and all, and wasn't sure if I'd paid enough money for the parking meter, so I didn't spent very long in Safed. I walked up and down the main thoroughfare and had some ice cream, and observed all the very observant Jews walking the streets of Safed, many of them speaking English with American accents, interestingly enough.

On the streets of Safed

Then I went to Ginnosar and saw the "ancient Galilee boat," a boat discovered in the mud off the shore of the Sea of Galilee during a drought in 1986. Scientists have dated it somewhere between 50 BCE and 50 CE, putting it within the time range that Jesus and his disciples would have been active in the Galilee region. It was pretty amazing to see the boat and to think about the fact that this boat was an actual physical artifact from the time of Jesus -- regardless of whether or not he actually traveled on this boat, which of course cannot possibly be known, despite the boat's nickname as "The Jesus Boat."

After seeing the ancient boat, I tried to get a ride on one of the replicas of the ancient fishing boats that take tourists and pilgrims for sailing trips on the lake. (It was actually one of these boats, and not a real, authentic fishing boat, that I'd seen on my first day in Tiberias from the boardwalk.) One of my professors back at Sewanee had recommended that I spend more time in the Sea of Galilee region than I'd originally planned, saying that it is "more peaceful" than Jerusalem, and that "you can get a boat ride onto the Sea of Galilee that I wouldn't miss." And talking to my husband on Sunday night, he'd encouraged me to go for the boat ride idea as well, even if it was out of my travel budget, saying we could cover it from our own funds. So, despite the touristy-looking nature of the whole deal, I went out in search of a boat ride on Monday.

From some initial research on the internet, I'd discovered that the fishing boat replicas operated mostly just for groups, but that as an individual, I could approach one of the people in charge of the boats and ask if I could join one of the trips already scheduled for a group. I tried this in Ginnosar, but to no avail. A boat had just set sail, and there wasn't going to be another one until the next morning. So I went to Tiberias, where the "Holy Land Sailing" company's offices were, on the boardwalk, and figured I could ask there. Unfortunately, those offices were closed. Finally, I approached some vendors by the boardwalk who were renting out small motor boats and jet skis, and asked what the price was to rent one of those boats.

"125 shekels, half an hour. You drive," the man said.

I looked down at the boats bobbing beside the docks. This was probably the only means by which I was going to be able to get out on the lake.

"Okay," I said.

"You are alone? Or you have someone with you?" he asked.

"No, it's just me," I said, thinking, Thanks for rubbing it in.

"You must have someone with you," he responded. "Cannot go alone. It's not allowed. Must have someone with you."

"Oh," I said, my face falling. Great, I thought.

"But, it's ok, I send someone with you," he continued, thumping one of his employees on the shoulder and speaking to him rapidly in Hebrew, pointing to me, then pointing to the boat. The employee, who did not speak English, didn't seem thrilled about these orders.

So the employee begrudgingly led me down to a small white and yellow motorboat, motioned for me to get in, and then reached over me to start the boat and get it backed away from the dock. He then put the boat in drive and handed it over to me and sat back. I didn't know how to slow down or stop or anything, and I couldn't really ask him, since he didn't speak English, so I just took the boat out in one long continuous loop around the area in front of Tiberias. So much for my idea of getting out into the middle of the lake and stopping the boat and sitting and meditating and taking pictures.

I was supposed to have 30 minutes with the boat, but I probably only took about 15 or 20. It was just random and awkward to have this total stranger just like, sitting there in the boat with me, just so I had another body in the boat per regulations. It was kind of cool to be able to get out on the water, but mostly it was just lonely. If my husband had been with me, or my sister (with whom I've traveled a lot in the past), I would have had someone to share this experience with, and I wouldn't have had to take a grumpy   boat employee with me on my little excursion on the water.

On this trip, I've noticed that when I'm visiting religious sites and in prayer, I don't mind being alone -- in fact, I actually prefer it, not having to worry about anyone else or coordinate with anyone else and can see the sites and worship and pray at my own pace. But when I'm doing things that are more "toursity" or "vacation-oriented," they're really just not that fun alone. That's probably why I'm running way below what I'd budgeted for food on this trip, assuming I'd be eating out often. But I haven't really eaten out often, instead buying food at grocery stores or grabbing a quick falafel here and there for $4 or $5, because eating alone at a sit-down restaurant just isn't as enjoyable by myself.

Later that evening, back at the hostel, I had dinner with the geologists, and one of the American professors with the group was saying how even though he's traveled all over the world for work and gotten to see some amazing places, he always thinks how much better it would be if he had been able to share these places with his wife. It reminded me of Christopher McCandless's insight in the film Into the Wild: "Happiness is only real if shared."