Jeep tour of Golan, Bet Sh’ean, Swimming in the Sachne, and Jerusalem hotel bliss

This morning we left early and me up with Rooey, our jeep tour driver and lifelong member of Kibbutz Ayyelet Hashachar which until the 6 day war of 1967 had been destroyed repeatedly by the Syrian Army and rebuilt repeatedly by the Israeli kibbutzniks. Needless to say Rooey’s tour commentary had a decidedly political flavor with aggressive undertones, and given that his eyes were about two inches too close together, he bore a mild resemblance to a Cyclopes and we all found him quite scary. We rode along in his open Land Rover climbing the Golan mountains and soon found ourselves on a rocky path that had formerly been the Syrian patrol road and was not intended for passenger vehicles. Rooey chuckled at the pathetic roads and commented on how in a British Land Rover it can be done easily but that we should imagine how much fun the Syrians must have had traversing the path in their pathetic Russian jeeps. I laughed dutifully at Rooey’s wit, trying hard not to throw up my breakfast with every massive bump. We stopped at an enclave of destroyed bunkers and Rooey ordered us all off the Land Rover. We descended a steep slope and found ourselves at the ruins of a large Syrian flag post building with an actual swimming pool which had been built atop a natural spring. Rooey then appeared brandishing a machete and thankfully a watermelon, grown on his kibbutz. The ease with which he chopped through the melon confirmed my suspicion that Rooey was not someone to be trifled with but rather someone to be taken seriously and above all else humored. Therefore, when asked, I agreed wholeheartedly that the watermelon was the best I had ever tasted in my life. After the rest stop, Rooey put the machete away and returned us unharmed to Avi, for whom I now felt a strong, platonic affection. Lovely, gentle, normally spaced-eyes, capri wearing Avi.

We carried on to the Roman town of Bet Sh’ean and lunch (sub-par hummus) and then drove to the Sachne Springs for a swim in the natural waters. Now when I hear the term “natural spring”, the image that comes to mind is a clear, clean, lovely, quiet water source surrounded by trees. Apparently this is not how the term is used here in Israel. The first give away were the hoards of Arab families with hibachi grills and the chicken bones strewn all over the earth as we descended from the van and headed toward the stream. I have not been to India but can only imagine that the masses of shouting men, women, and children waist deep in the Sachne River must be identical to the scene of daily life along the shores of the Ganges. Having promised Justin and Livvy that we would be swimming in a natural spring, we were obliged to don our bathing suits and wade into the cesspool. I never imagined I could be so happy to have had a Hepatitis-A shot. After a thoroughly disgusting 15 minutes in the water with the chicken bone discarding masses, I realized I needed an escape plan and quickly. I enlisted David’s help and we craftily suggested that the kids needed to remove themselves from the water as we had to press on to Jerusalem before “rush hour”. We also sweetened the deal by offering them each an ice cream which was being sold at a concession stand near the river bank and explained the abundant plastic wrappers floating in the water.

A half bottle of Purel later we were on the road to Jerusalem and our lovely hotel the David Citadel. At the hotel, Amman the assistant manager, kindly upgraded us to suites with views overlooking the Old City, see pics. A long, hot bath (with the hotel provided Occitane bath products) later, the Sachne was reduced to a vague memory, and we were off to dinner at a chic nearby Italian restaurant.