The Exodus Journey

Introduction

Here I am again, setting off on another tour; this time the destination is the itinerary of the Exodus, in the footsteps of Moses' journey, a route that continuously intersects culture, history and religions.

I will cross Egypt, Jordan, the West Bank and Israel, countries not very far from us in geographical terms, but with a culture very different from ours and also dissimilar among the various peoples. The journey of the Exodus, for those who want to understand its historical and religious depth, is not an easy journey; you always need to understand well the place where you are, grasp what happened and always know how to look carefully at the picture: • geographical, with the understanding of the biblical texts along Moses' itinerary; • historical, with historical events and archaeological discoveries; • biblical, with the religious message of the biblical text and its Christian re-reading; • of the Mystery, with the celebrations, prayers and hymns; • touristic, with the guides describing the places we will see along the itinerary.

I pack my suitcase with summer clothes and suitable clothing for trekking, my digital reflex camera (Nikon DX40) with three spare cards, my inseparable Moleskine® (the notebook), some pens, my passport, the travel program, the guidebooks and not least the indispensable plane tickets.

For the journey I have chosen the guides: Egypt, Jordan, Israel from the Touring Club Italiano, and in the diary I will refer to the places I visit by indicating the page of the guide preceded by the nation to make it easier to find. For example: Egypt (E-TCI p.), Jordan (G-TCI p.), Israel (I-TCI p.), so that anyone wanting to do further research will find the necessary references.

Part one

On a cloudy and cold spring day, we head to the train station of Saronno (VA) to take, at 9:16, the Malpensa Express, the train that in 30 minutes will take us to the Malpensa international airport. The day, like the airport after the recent news that sees Alitalia wanting to abandon the airport facility, is gray and gloomy. The airport is half-deserted, many check-in desks are closed, it feels like walking in a cathedral of the desert; outside very few cars and coaches, inside you move among empty check-in counters, an endless desolation, and even the coffee seems to have a bitter taste. But this does not dampen our enthusiasm for a destination so important to all of us.

Shortly after, while we are in line for check-in, the whole group gathers; in total there are 27 of us, heading with an Alitalia flight to Cairo, the starting point of this journey that will see us retrace the Way of the Exodus, the route the Jewish people took after leaving Egypt until they reached the "promised land," that is, the present-day states of Israel and the West Bank (Palestine).

The "Journey of the Exodus," but what does Exodus mean? Here I want to briefly explore this complex concept. "The exodus is the historical 'Creed' of Israel. 'The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, … he brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey' (Dt. 26:8-9) The Exodus is the typical event of salvation. It is the icon of God's action with his people of all times, and the consequent response he expects from them. The exodus is the paradigm of the man-God relationship, marked by these stages: • Liberation from slavery, by God's gratuitous hand, because he is the 'go'el,' that is, the relative who feels bound (solidarity of Christ) to our humanity; through the waters, symbol of the evil from which one emerges, that is, baptism.

• The covenant, to make of his people a family (in Hebrew 'am), sealed by a banquet (the Eucharist), by blood (circumcision and the cross), by the new Law. • The desert, that is, the time of trial, of temptation, of fall, of mercy, of forgiveness. • The promised Land, the new land in which to live, through a Mediator, that is, Moses (Christ) The exodus therefore constitutes the salvific event in its essence. The Exodus is a place; Sinai. The Exodus is a story; that of Moses. The Exodus is a book; the biblical one. The Exodus is the Mystery that in Christ is made present at every Mass. Four horizons that intersect and interact." (Text taken from Romeo Maggioni – On the paths of the exodus)

Wandering around the airport is disheartening; even the duty free is closed "for inventory"; the two hours of waiting pass slowly in the waiting rooms; I take the opportunity to read texts on the Exodus, on Egypt, something more generally on the Middle East, and to chat with my travel companions. The moment of boarding arrives and waiting for us in the middle of the runway we find the Alitalia A-320 aircraft, named "Libeccio," like the wind that blows from the southeast coming from Libya, and we hope it brings us sun and warmth. The flight proceeds normally and after about four hours, we glimpse a large river; it's the Nile, on whose banks we see dwellings surrounded by greenery.

As the flight continues, I notice that the density of dwellings increases noticeably and, while the Nile branches into several arms, in the haze we fly over the outskirts of Cairo, the capital of Egypt, an immense city where the outskirts extend as far as the eye can see. It's around 6:00 p.m. and the first lights illuminate the streets and the terraced houses which from above appear like parallelepipeds; in the distance, in the haze, one can glimpse the shape of the pyramids which, massive and imposing, point their tips toward the sky that is slowly filling with stars. We land and, having reached the airport facility, we get ready to collect our suitcases, pass through passport control with the entry visa stamp, then further checks, and finally, leaving the airport, we head toward the coach, and here we are greeted by a murky and heavy air due to atmospheric pollution.

Having loaded the suitcases and gotten on board the vehicle, we head toward the hotel; we cross the city along a route that winds through major traffic arteries, elevated roads, and bridges that cross the majestic Nile. The capital has 20 million inhabitants out of the 75 million of the entire country. During the journey, an agency representative offers us as a welcome gift some very tasty chocolate-covered dates and, like a good salesman, tries to propose "alternatives" to what's included in the excursion, clearly at our expense, but the attempt fails. Along the roads the traffic is heavy; I have the chance to admire the fleet of taxis made up mostly of Fiat 128s, Fiat 124s and Peugeot 305s. The elevated roads run among the houses and, while traveling, it's not unusual to be able to "see" scenes of daily life inside the dwellings.

After almost 2 hours of travel, we arrive near Giza where our hotel is; a beautiful crescent moon has already appeared for some time and its sliver emerges in the blue sky. The hotel is characterized by low villas and inside it has a garden with an enormous pool. We go to our room and shortly after we gather for dinner: the Egyptian cuisine and flavors are well received; the Arabic bread, the meat, the vegetables and the desserts are excellent. After dinner, a short stroll, and finally we go to sleep, but sleep is disturbed by the noise of the elevated road that runs near the rooms.

Part one

The alarm goes off at 7:00 but we were already awake due to the noise of heavy traffic that has been increasing since dawn. Coming out of the room we are greeted by a beautiful blue sky and a bit of wind makes the air pleasant. Breakfast and then at 8:00 we set off for the Giza plateau where the pyramids stand. On the coach we get to know the guide who will accompany us in these days; his name is Felice, he is 36 years old and speaks passable Italian. After a short journey through the chaotic traffic of the outskirts we reach a hill where we can spot the three pyramids; we quickly approach the archaeological site but find an endless number of coaches with tourists. As soon as we get off the coach, before entering the archaeological area, we have to go through the metal detector check and we find ourselves lined up in a long queue of visitors heading to the plateau.

The checkpoint is located near the pyramid of Cheops and while I'm in line I can quite calmly observe the majesty of the work; I am a few meters from the immense base, 230 meters long, its top at 137 meters is right above my head; it's useless to deny the emotion of scrutinizing this immense building that I've been able to admire so many times in footage, photographs and archaeological programs on TV. But being there in person is always a great and immense emotion. I am along the north side of the pyramid at the point where you can see the entrance to the inner chambers and, despite the hour, there are already many tourists waiting for their turn to enter. We get back on the coach heading toward a panoramic point from which it's possible to observe in all their majesty the three pyramids; those of Cheops, Chephren and Mycerinus (E-TCI 112).

From the angle from which we observe the structures it would seem that the pyramid of Chephren is the largest, but it's only an optical effect due to perspective and the undulating terrain. This observation point is frequented mainly by tourists and, as soon as we get off the coach, before we can admire the pyramids and take photos, we are surrounded by locals who want to be photographed with us in exchange for a few coins; while a short distance away there are souvenir sellers as well as camel drivers waiting for tourists to take them on camelback near the pyramids. The wind blowing in the desert makes photographing difficult, also because of the strong morning light, which will make the photos a bit bright; while the sand lifted and carried by the wind gets everywhere, into clothes and into the camera.

Having finished taking photos, we set off again in the direction of the pyramids; we stop between the pyramid of Cheops and that of Chephren; the guide gives us two options: either enter the pyramid of Chephren or go see the "Pharaoh's boat," located in a structure adjacent to the pyramid of Cheops: we decide on the second option. As soon as we get off the coach we are assailed by sellers of cheap souvenirs, who with exasperating insistence want to sell something at any cost, and only with difficulty and little delicacy do I manage to get away from these characters. As I approach and walk alongside the pyramid of Cheops I remain attracted by its imposingness and beauty; I can admire the series of stone blocks laid with extreme skill and precision that create the captivating structure, making it one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world.

We walk along the road that skirts one side of the pyramid when we find a recently built building; it's the "Solar Boat Museum" (E-TCI 115); we enter, pay for the ticket and, after putting on some funny overshoes (so as not to ruin the wooden floor), we access the interior of the halls where we see the pit in which the Pharaoh's boat was found; the wooden artifact, made of Lebanese cedar, centuries ago plied the placid waters of the Nile carrying the Pharaoh, King of Egypt. On the upper floor of the structure the boat is placed; it is stunningly beautiful. Almost 44 meters long and 6 meters wide, it has an elongated keel, with the prow rising imposingly toward the sky. In the center the wooden cabin, supported by poles shaped like closed lotus flowers, then the space for 5 rowers per side, and at the stern the two helmsmen.

Today one can only imagine the beauty of such a vessel which, adorned, light, glided over the placid waters of the great river, carrying the royal one of ancient Egypt. This masterpiece of river art was found 65 years ago, but only for 5 years has it been viewable at the museum that was built on the site of the discovery. Who knows how many things of inestimable value still lie hidden beneath the sand of the Giza plateau. We leave the boat and, walking alongside the pyramid of Cheops, we head toward the coach parked near the pyramid of Chephren, but we are still besieged by the annoying souvenir sellers. While I wait for the other members of the group, I have the chance to admire the second pyramid in its imposingness, 136 meters high and 210 meters wide (E-TCI 117).

Back on the vehicle, we head toward the opposite end of the plateau, where the Sphinx stands (E-TCI 116), the enormous statue in the shape of a lion with a Pharaoh's head. We enter the archaeological area, but this too is invaded by noisy tourists who make movement difficult, and among the most incredible are the Japanese who in an orderly, scrupulous way slip in everywhere, photographing everything with cameras that are, technologically speaking, always at the cutting edge. Despite the large presence of so many tourists, we manage to visit the area where the Sphinx is well; we see the Granite Temple (also called the Temple of the Sphinx), whose name comes from the imposing monolithic blocks of pink granite, perfectly laid together, that were used to build the walls and columns.

Arriving near the Sphinx, it's impossible not to be captivated by the imposingness of the statue, 57 meters long and 20 high, and it stands about 350 meters from the pyramids. I stop to take a few photos; photographing it from different angles, with the background of the pyramids themselves, is truly an emotion. Too bad that many tourists present can't fully grasp its beauty because from their hurried behavior I notice that they are interested only in souvenir photos. Having finished the visit, we leave Giza heading toward the city center; the traffic is always very chaotic and heavy; even the high-speed elevated roads prove insufficient for the large number of vehicles in circulation. Shortly before noon we arrive at the old city, the Coptic part of the capital, where there are ancient churches.

You enter the neighborhood, recently renovated, by walking along a street where on one side stands the ancient enclosing wall and on the other runs the city metro. We reach an open area and stop near the Coptic museum to observe what remains of an imposing tower built by the Romans and partially rebuilt (E-TCI 81); we continue for a few meters and access, through a decorated stone portal, an inner courtyard that gives access to the church "The Suspended" (E-TCI 84). The church has a beautiful interior architecture; in the center emerges the 12th-century marble ambo with carved columns whose beauty leaves you amazed at the fineness of the workmanship. Leaving the Suspended Church and retracing a stretch of road toward the coach, we visit the church of St. George (E-TCI 82), where outside, beside the stairs leading to the church, there is the statue of St.

George fighting the dragon; the circular interior is a classic Coptic church, with many icons.

Part two

We continue the tour and through an old access, passing beyond the walls, we walk through narrow alleys full of shops, where I notice some interesting publications, some enchanting black-and-white photos, as well as CDs of Egyptian and Arab music. After a few hundred meters we reach the Church of St. Sergius (E-TCI 82), a Coptic church hidden among the houses; built on the dwelling where tradition holds that the Holy Family stayed during their time in Egypt, when they had taken refuge to escape the hunt organized by Herod. This place will ideally become the starting point of our exodus to the Holy City; Jerusalem. We leave the Coptic neighborhood at almost 1 p.m. and head toward the Nile; in a restaurant crowded with tourists we stop for lunch; the food is "passable," very ordinary, where the only decent thing is the fried fish and the white rice with onion.

The afternoon is dedicated to the visit of the Egyptian Museum (E-TCI 71), a place that is a mandatory stop for a tourist who wants to visit Cairo. The museum, which was built at the beginning of the 1900s, shows all its years and even the organization of the halls is, as an overall layout, "dated"; but despite this, it's an emotion to be able to admire so many artifacts from the dynasties of the Pharaohs, to be able to see a copy of the famous Rosetta Stone (the original is in England), the stone, written in three languages, Arabic, Greek and hieroglyphic, where Champollion between 1822 and 1832 managed to decipher hieroglyphs for the first time, giving complete meaning to this form of writing made of drawings and symbols.

The visit to the museum continues observing sarcophagi, then we access the upper floor which is almost entirely dedicated to the material found in the tomb of Tutankhamun: the Pharaoh who died at the age of 18, whose tomb was never discovered or violated by looters. At the beginning of the floor, placed on a wall, I observe a drawing depicting in cross-section how much and what was found in the tomb discovered by Carter in 1922; Carter himself did a precious and painstaking job of cataloging all the pieces found which are now displayed in the glass cases present on the floor. They are particularly interesting to look at carefully; the throne, finely decorated and embellished with hard stones; the alabaster vases of refined workmanship; the ceremonial beds, delicately inlaid or painted.

Then the Canopic Jars, that is, the 4 jars that contained the internal organs of the body that the embalmers removed from the deceased before embalming (liver, lungs, intestines and stomach). Also on display are the parade and war chariots that the Pharaoh used, among which stands out a gilded chariot of high workmanship from Asia. In some cases are enclosed containers, which look like enormous boxes, and looking at them I can't understand their use, and there are no explanations either; I ask Felice what they are and he tells me that they are containers which, fitted one inside the other, enclosed the sarcophagus of Tutankhamun's mummy. The dimensions of these containers are truly impressive and only by looking at them carefully, with the right perspective, can you see that one fits inside the other, and in the smallest container were the canopic jars and the gilded sarcophagus.

Finally, in an air-conditioned and well-protected room there is the "treasure," that is, the gilded sarcophagus, Tutankhamun's funerary mask in solid gold enriched with lapis lazuli (with a total weight of 48 kg) and the jewels that the pharaoh wore. A place where beauty has no equal, where the history of the pharaohs shows all its magnificence and its enchantment, a place where words fail due to the astonishment and wonder that seizes the interested visitor. Leaving the treasure room, we re-enter among the crowd that fills the building, and the humid heat brings us back to reality. The haste doesn't allow me to go around the halls as I would like to see the evolution of the various dynasties of the Pharaohs and the various artifacts that are kept in this place. Quickly we see something else, above all we take a tour among the black granite statues of the first dynasties.

A real shame not to have been able to explore certain topics of Egyptian antiquity in depth; but today's mass tourism is also this. Having finished the visit to the museum, we return to the hotel, shower and then buffet dinner. The evening passes quietly playing cards and chatting; some get started on their first purchases.

Part one

The alarm goes off at 8:00, but the service staff had already been by earlier wanting to redo the room — incredible, the rush and disorganization of this hotel. Breakfast, then we check that the suitcases are loaded onto the coach and we set off; even though it's the start of the day, the air is already heavy with pollution. Thank goodness we're leaving the metropolis and heading toward the Sinai Peninsula, where the air will surely be better. Crossing the vast capital, we head toward the outskirts, where new neighborhoods have been built, characterized by small houses, all equipped with satellite dishes, and from up on a road it's amusing to observe these hundreds of dishes stretching as far as the eye can see; a clear sign of progress.

After passing through the city, near a hilly area, the driver heads toward a height that is walled and guarded by security forces; we have arrived at the Citadel (E-TCI 85), an imposing fortified area nestled against the mountains and overlooking the city, conceived by Saladin in 1176. Having paid the entrance ticket, we head inside, skirting the mighty crenellated walls that have stood on the hill for centuries; as we walk, we see the spires of the Muhammad Ali Mosque, our destination, appearing ever closer, rising high toward the sky. After passing through an enormous portal, we enter the inner part of the fortress, and only after climbing a flight of stairs leading to the upper esplanade can we enjoy the full view of the alabaster mosque; a unique enchantment.

The mineral white glistens under the sun's rays, the decorations of the windows, the spires soaring toward the sky, the color of the domes, the contrast between the white of the alabaster and the brown of the plaster, the sheer imposingness of the structure as a whole leave you astonished. We walk around the mosque, observing other buildings of the citadel, then, through a gateway, we enter the courtyard of the mosque; since it is a sacred place for Muslims, we must remove our shoes and enter barefoot — a ritual, this of removing shoes and walking completely barefoot, that is observed not only by Muslims but also by Buddhists. I walk in the courtyard paved with white marble and observe the ablution basin and the portico where I can set down my footwear to take photographs. The mosque, built between 1824 and 1848, in its form recalls that of Constantinople and appears immense.

Inside, the side walls and the pillars are clad in alabaster decorated with floral motifs; the vault features frescoes and gilded stuccoes. It is truly a wonderful and seductive work, a beautiful example of "Ottoman Baroque" — you really feel as if you're in a place from the tales of the Arabian Nights. While Felice describes the structure and the history of the place, I enjoy taking photographs both outside and inside, and despite the difficulty of working handheld indoors, some photos come out truly beautiful. Leaving the mosque, we find ourselves on a terrace from which you enjoy a vast panorama over the city, an expanse stretching as far as the eye can see; in the distance, the desert wind stirs up sand and blurs the view of the pyramids. I snap a few photos and then we head toward the coach.

Once on board, the vehicle sets off again but after a few yards it stops; some people with lunch baskets get on. We are about to leave the metropolis and head toward the Sinai Desert. As we leave the city at the far outskirts, I notice many houses with bulb-shaped domes, a characteristic architectural feature of the Arab world. As soon as we leave the city, we find ourselves in the desert; the road is well paved and the cruising speed is good. After about a couple of hours of travel, we arrive at a checkpoint; we are entering the Suez Governorate. The desert changes color, the rocks go from sand-colored to red, and the immense plain is dotted with military barracks, identifiable by their fences and entrance checks.

Suddenly we begin to see villages surrounded by cultivated fields, and one notices that the presence of water is significant; we are approaching the Suez Canal (E-TCI 165), the canal that, crossing the sandy Sinai desert, allows the connection between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. The idea of creating a canal linking the two seas dates back to the pharaoh Sesostris, but only around 500 BC was the work completed — over 92 km long — to connect the Red Sea with the "Bitter Lake," the forerunner of the current canal. After various and fluctuating historical vicissitudes, the realization came with the current canal route, inaugurated on November 17, 1869.

The waterway was modernized in the last decades of the 20th century to allow the passage of supertankers; today it has a depth of 23.5 meters, a width of 480, and allows, with a maximum draft of 20.4 meters, the passage of ships of 260,000 tons. We arrive at the parking area near the Suez Canal, and while we eat lunch with our travel baskets, we see something moving in the middle of the desert; they look like containers, and in fact, looking carefully, they really are moving. But how can containers move in the middle of the desert? Is it a hallucination? Not at all; it's a ship traveling through the canal, and at regular intervals a second one arrives and then a third; it's a succession of merchant ships going from the Mediterranean down toward the Red Sea.

Navigation in the canal proceeds in alternating fashion; ships enter at pre-established distances and must travel the canal at a constant speed. It's pleasant to observe how, at regular intervals, the ships pass one after another. It's equally curious to observe the speed of the ships that skillfully travel the waterway; in the place where, having very precise reference points, the movement seems faster than on the open sea where there are no reference points. Seeing colossi of the sea moving through the desert is an entertainment without equal; the fun is trying to identify the ship's flag and figure out its nationality. While the ships transit, the group is busy "emptying" the travel baskets: a sandwich with cutlet, a sandwich with eggplant and grilled meat, fruit juice, chips.

The service area where we are stopped is an almost mandatory stop for those passing through, so the restaurateur is equipped with tables that he makes available to those who want to eat their travel basket, and in exchange offers cold drinks. The time comes to pay, and we realize that having Egyptian pounds wouldn't be a bad idea; no one thought to exchange a few euros. In the end, we struggle to find a way to exchange some euros and manage to pay for the drinks; we'll encounter these payment difficulties again in the following days. A hot wind has picked up, making the temperature a bit torrid, and at the checkpoint before the tunnel entrance, hydrants are opened to wet the asphalt and cool the air. We get back on the coach and prepare to cross the Suez Canal; the check is quick since they see we're tourists — a glance at the passports, at the suitcases, and they let us through.

We enter the "Ahmed Hamdi" tunnel; it's 2:01 PM. The tunnel, 1,640 meters long, connects the African part of Egypt with the Sinai Peninsula. We, albeit on the coach, are retracing part of the route traveled by Moses a few dozen centuries ago, and soon we will find ourselves in the full Arab/Asian desert.

Part two

The tunnel is traversed at cruising speed; we encounter trucks, cars and other coaches coming in the opposite direction. To think that above us flows the water that joins two important seas and that allows maritime transport to save a few weeks in sailing time is truly wonderful. After a few minutes of travel, natural light becomes visible on the asphalt; we are near the exit, and indeed the tunnel ends. We are beginning a slight climb that will bring us back to desert level when the driver makes a sudden, abrupt braking — some shouting, and in front of us....... the cab of a truck traveling in the opposite direction appears; the collision seems inevitable, the brakes screech, you can hear the truck's too as it comes downhill. The impact draws ever closer, but just a few centimeters from each other, the vehicles stop: the drivers start cursing; who's in the right, I don't know.

Once the fright is over, the journey proceeds normally; we are in the desert of the Sinai Peninsula and traveling southeast toward the lowest point of the peninsula, where the Sinai massif rises, giving the region its name. Along the road we pass numerous and omnipresent military barracks, villages surrounded by cultivated land, and, skirting the Red Sea, we can notice ships at anchor waiting their turn to transit the Suez Canal toward the Mediterranean. Approaching Sharm el-Sheikh, we pass tourist villages, and near one of them we make a stop to stretch our legs a bit, and someone in the group, seeing a beautiful turquoise-blue sea, takes the opportunity to dip their feet.

During the stop, I can observe how in this area the presence of wind is a constant; I notice it both from the sand dunes piled against the buildings and from the plants that, as in all places with a certain windiness, grow tilted. We resume the journey, still skirting the sea, until, upon reaching a fork, we turn left and venture into the full desert, heading toward imposing rocky massifs, a place where the hills and mountains appear multicolored; you notice brown, hazel, red, black, which in some stretches appears blue. Laterally to the road heading toward the central part of the massif, large and small valleys open up in alternating fashion, bordered by imposing and harsh rocky mountains. In some stretches, the road is lined with beautiful acacia plants; Felice says they are mimosas — personally I'm not convinced, but I note the detail.

In fact, checking later, I discover that the mimosa belongs to the acacia family: Felice was right. Proceeding toward our destination, we pass through many villages of Bedouins who have gone from nomadic to settled; but at the edges of the villages or in the desert, you can still see tents of these people who maintain the nomadic tradition. The route winds along the bottom of a valley dotted with broad hills and surrounded by high mountains; it feels like being in a place that is "guarded," where anyone entering must ask permission; you have the impression of always being watched and checked by attentive, discreet eyes. We stop at a small Coptic Christian monastery that stands near the village of Feiran (E-TCI 279). The gate is closed, and despite Felice's insistence in talking to the doorkeeper, we cannot get inside.

It seems all the priests are busy — with what, it's not clear, but according to the guard, they really are all occupied; we wait a few dozen minutes, but in vain, so we get back on the coach and resume the journey. Now the road runs between mountain gorges, sometimes narrow, sometimes wider, and the scenery changes continuously; the sun is setting, coloring the sandstone walls of the mountains, which, struck by the sunset rays, turn ochre red. The ochre color is interrupted only by some basaltic eruptive intrusions of black granite, with pleasant green veins, appearing like a multicolored puzzle. Along the road we find villages surrounded by date palms, and in some areas the palm cultivations create fantastic vistas. I notice that for dozens of kilometers there is an open trench; they are laying a metal pipeline 25 cm in diameter.

The pipeline is only partly laid, and every so often you see pipes stacked and ready to be welded and laid; I deduce it could be an aqueduct or an oil pipeline. Shortly after sunset, we arrive at the protected area of Santa Caterina, and near a fork, we stop at the checkpoint, where the military meticulously check all passports. We set off again and, after a few kilometers, we reach the hotel, where we are welcomed with a welcome cocktail. The structure is made up of a series of small houses scattered over some hills, and on the highest one stands the restaurant. Once the suitcases are settled, we go out for a walk in the nearby village; here it's already night, the lights illuminate the streets and houses. Under some arcades we find a few small open shops and notice that the price of the goods is more convenient than in Cairo; an excellent opportunity for shopping.

We return to the hotel as it's dinnertime, then everyone off to bed for a few hours; in the middle of the night we'll leave for the ascent of Mount Sinai.

Part one

The alarm clock, implacable, goes off at 1:30 — yes, exactly, at one thirty; we've practically rested only a few hours. The coach awaits us to depart for the parking lot of the Monastery of Santa Caterina (E-TCI 279). Right outside the hotel, we make a stop at a bar for hot tea; the place is crowded with tourists and pilgrims preparing for the ascent of Mount Sinai. It's amusing to observe the difference in people's clothing — some wear heavy sweaters, others stroll about calmly in short-sleeved T-shirts. Experienced hikers are recognizable by their physique, their clothing, their gear; the atmosphere reminds me of my alpine ascents, where in the mountain huts at the start there is a ritual to be observed: silence, breakfast with hot tea, and then, sleepy, you set off toward the destination.

Here too the same "ritual" takes place — just a few more words, but on people's faces I notice the same expression of sleepiness and cold. We get on the coach and quickly reach the monastery parking lot, where the vehicle stops. I check what I have in my backpack, place my flashlight in my pocket and get off the coach, but after a few yards, we're all stopped in a column — what's happening? Why aren't we moving? Even though the night's cold is making itself felt, we have to pass yet another checkpoint. We get through it and enter a dirt road leading to the monastery. We stop; I attempt a nighttime photo of the group, but framing and shooting in the dead of night is truly an action that requires a lot of luck to photograph the subjects correctly. We set off again, and on the dirt road, the dust kicked up by the people ahead of us gets into the nose and mouth.

In the total darkness of the night, the climb begins; I don't know where I am, I have no reference points, except the road that gently rises to the walls of the Monastery of Santa Caterina. Now the road turns into a trail; soldiers check that everyone is accompanied by a guide. A Spanish girl turns out to be without a guide, without a group, and is stopped by the inflexible guards, from whom, despite the darkness of the night, no one escapes. In the dead of night we are climbing the slopes of Mount Sinai; the black sky is studded with thousands of stars; I haven't seen a sky so well lit by the stars in a very long time.

After more than half an hour of climbing, following the trail of other flashlights ahead of us, we reach some huts, where we find the dromedaries that had been booked by members of the group who, not feeling prepared to face the long route, decided to go up by taking advantage of the animals' passage. One person at a time, helped by the Bedouins, begins to take their place on the saddle. But at night, getting into the saddle is not simple; with flashlight illumination, you manage as best you can. I take some photos, then I stop to wait for everyone to get on the animals and..... I find myself practically alone, alone in the night and alone on the slope of Mount Sinai. I shine my flashlight on the area where I am to try to figure out where to head, but I see no trace of a trail.

Only in the distance, to my right, I see on the mountain the long serpentine of lit flashlights of the people climbing, but nearby there really is no one. Fortunately I've done a few nighttime ascents, so I don't lose heart; I search the mountain until I spot a trail, and I set off up the climb, but I realize I'm moving away from the luminous serpentine climbing the mountain. I look at the sky — it's starry; I'm in absolute silence, and I take the opportunity to walk in complete solitude. It's just me with my pace, my breath, my backpack and my thoughts, admiring this spectacle offered by the celestial vault. As I walk, time passes and I continue to remain inexorably distant from the luminous serpentine; I really don't know where I am.

I stop for a moment to assess the situation and decide to go on a little longer, and if I don't find a trail for the climb, I'll see whether to wait for dawn or go back down and look for the trail to be able to climb Sinai. I resume walking, trying to illuminate as much as possible to spot a trail that will lead me back to the others, and while I'm walking, suddenly, from the deep darkness of the night, voices reach me; I stop to understand which direction they're coming from. With the torch I can't illuminate anything, and I decide to proceed carefully toward the voices. At a certain point the voices become clearer — they're Italian. I quicken my pace, the torch light constantly searching for tracks, and later I illuminate and reach some dromedaries with people in the saddle; it's part of my group climbing. A few greetings and I decide to walk a stretch of the road with them.

The climb continues always between dirt and stones; the animals proceed strictly in single file, kicking up a lot of dust that I sometimes swallow, so I decide to leave the group and head toward the serpentine of lights that is approaching, and, taking advantage of a trail I've spotted, I move away from the dromedaries. Alone, I climb rather quickly and am rapidly approaching the luminous serpentine ahead of me on the climb; finally I'm on the right path when, after a rise, a rest stop appears, lit by lamps. I reach it, and among the many people present I find some from the group who were climbing on foot; others arrive on dromedaryback. A quick greeting, a sip of water, and I resume climbing in the darkness; by now the luminous serpentine climbing ahead has been reached — I too am an integral part of it.

Here everyone climbs at their own pace, some in solitude, some in a group, but you always have to watch out for the dromedaries coming up, because they have the right of way; if only for their size. As I climb, I find the road blocked by a group of Japanese who are walking along it; they are perfectly ordered in four columns side by side, preceded by a person walking holding up an open umbrella (mind you, it's nighttime). I try to pass on both the right and the left, but it's impossible; I ask politely to pass, but no signal comes, until, tired of eating dust and proceeding at too slow a pace, I express myself decisively and loudly using "crude and dialect" terms. Hearing my "request," the group of Japanese stops dead; the pathfinder steps aside, toward the mountain, closes the umbrella, and only then do the files split into two lateral wings that allow me to pass.

I feel like Moses passing through the waters of the Red Sea. I proceed along the trail through bends and stones; sometimes I encounter people walking slowly ahead who are overtaken by the dromedaries coming up, and as already said, they have the right of way, and it's precisely during one of these "traffic jams" that I am bumped by a dromedary and find myself on the ground, rolling and eating dust. Fortunately the stones stop my fall; I get up a bit bruised and continue my way toward the summit, paying close attention to people who, walking more slowly than the dromedaries, can cause me problems. On the way up I pass more people from the group, and upon reaching a rest area I meet Francesca and Tonina, who are our vanguard; from here on I'll climb with them.

The trail now runs along the mountainside, right below the sheer final cliffs; the night is drawing to a close and the shape of the mountain is beginning to be visible. At the end of this stretch of trail there is the rest point where the dromedaries stop and people must dismount; from here on the only way to continue is the st

Part two

At the rest point we find Mariella and Luigia, who need to pay for the means of transport. The three of us continue, while in the distance the first signs of the sun appear — a faint white band on the horizon. Following the trail, we pass through a channel carved between the granite walls of the mountain; a few yards of descent and we arrive at a plateau with some buildings; we are at the "amphitheater of the 70 elders of Israel." Here today stands a refreshment point, and in a hut a group of Orthodox faithful is praying by candlelight. There are many people; some will stop here, others will continue the climb toward the mountain's summit, and the trail now turns into an immense and endless staircase — 734 steps, carved by the monks, leading to the top.

Climbing is an ordeal: the legs ache, the pace is uneven due to the uneven steps; even though some let us pass, the fatigue of climbing is felt in the legs and breath. Little by little we climb; we tackle the first ramp, then a second, and finally we arrive at a rest point. We're hot and sweaty; we need to be careful of the night's chill to avoid muscle and breathing problems. We're on the last 100 steps; the fatigue, after nearly 3 hours of climbing, makes itself felt, but we're close to the goal. Our legs ache, but we don't give up; I find my steady pace and in no time I arrive at the final flat area of the mountain; here people are already sitting on the boulders. Tonina and Francesca have found a "free" spot and we hurry to claim it. It's 4:30 when, seated on the cold granite rock of the summit of the Mountain of Moses (E-TCI 280), we wait for the sunrise.

Tonina holds the position, while from the backpacks we take out a sweater and light jackets to protect ourselves from the mountain's cold air. The sunlight gradually comes to illuminate the mountain, and the Sinai range shows all its wild beauty and its imposingness. The mountains, gray before, now struck by the light, turn red and emerge from the darkness. We're sitting on the granite waiting for the others in the group when, around 5, the first ones arrive; having held the position, we can seat them near us. Suddenly, even though we're on the edge of a precipice, we have to argue with some Japanese who, under the pretext of wanting to take photos, want to occupy our spot; only our firmness drives away these barbarians who display their incivility.

This last episode, like other behaviors, shows that, despite what is commonly said, Italians turn out to be very civilized and polite people. At 5:20, behind the clouds standing on the horizon, the first intense sun rays appear; quickly the ball of fire emerges from the clouds, its rays illuminate everything and everyone, beginning to warm the bones of those standing on the rocks waiting for it. It's enchanting to be able to admire the sunrise from this height and with this clear, clean sky; the stars, at the arrival of the light, are quickly disappearing, and the stone continues to light up, to take on color, to assume a well-defined form. With the light, we decide to climb to the top of the mount, where a small chapel and a mosque stand. Shortly after, we begin the long and demanding descent on the endless steps, which are very crowded with both those going up and those coming down.

Struggling greatly on the way down, I decide to go down along the mountainside flanking the steps, and in a short time I reach the huts; I begin the second stretch, where the descent is steep, rugged, and where you proceed slowly in zigzags. Toward the end I find Simona, who slipped shortly before; she has a knee sprain and a wound on her right hand; she can't walk, so we need to find a dromedary to get her down to the monastery and then to the coach. We are above the biblical "Plain of Elijah," a plain where there is a cave that was the prophet's refuge during his stay on the mount, when we find Felice, our guide; the search for the dromedary becomes simpler.

While I'm helping Simona reach the dromedary, I notice that some from the group, instead of keeping to the right-hand trail — the one we came up on — take the left-hand trail, "the staircase," a trail made of over 8,000 steps that, descending, leads directly and quickly to the Monastery of Santa Caterina. I, accompanying other group members who want to descend using the dromedary service, take the trail we followed on the way up; once at the dromedary flat area, those who want to use the animals struggle to negotiate the price for the descent. Thus I begin the long and exhausting descent, during which I meet people returning from the summit and someone who, giving up from fatigue, has decided to go back to the starting point.

As I descend, the first rays of the sun, emerging from the mountain, illuminate the imposing perimeter walls of the monastery below — what better occasion to take photographs? I continue the descent together with others from the group, and a few minutes before 8:00 we arrive at the parking lot, finding the coach. The fatigue of the climb and descent is felt in the legs; the tiredness is truly great. Around 8:30 the group gradually reassembles, and those who came down via "the staircase" arrive literally wrecked, with a terrible ache in their legs. Once the group is reassembled, we set off again for the hotel, where a nice shower removes some of the tiredness, followed by a good, abundant breakfast, and then we set off again to visit the Monastery of Santa Caterina (E-TCI 279).

Returning to the parking lot, we have to pass the nighttime checkpoint again; since Simona walks badly, we manage, as a complete exception, to transit with the coach, which takes us right up to the monastery gate. The meeting time for departure toward the sea is set for 11:00 at the same spot. The visit to the monastery, bordered by mighty defensive walls, is a crush of people, a disorderly throng moving without a set path; it's hard to enter and move about inside the narrow lanes running between the buildings. The interior of the monastery is a confused jumble of verandas, walkways, porticoes, stairs, large and small buildings, monks' cells, a library and a bell tower. In the Orthodox church, where the enormous mosaic of the Transfiguration is under restoration, you can't move or listen to what Felice is explaining; here respect for religion is close to zero.

It's just a consumerist tourist spot; for me, an immense disappointment. Leaving the church, we pause beneath the burning bush, which tradition identifies as Moses's burning bush. I leave the monastery annoyed by so much disorder and head to the meeting point for departure; I arrive at the square where the driver left us, and the coach isn't there. We're quite a little group; we wait 10 minutes and the coach doesn't arrive; 11:00 has passed a while ago, so I decide to walk down to the square, and when I arrive I find Felice and the bus. Felice, the guide, who on this occasion proved completely inattentive and poorly organized; leaving through the opposite door from the entrance one, he didn't bother to check how many people from the group he had with him and headed toward the parking lot square, forgetting that the meeting point was somewhere else entirely.

Now he's worried because we're late for departure toward the ferry that is to take us to Jordan. But we can't leave; some from the group are missing, who, rightly, stayed where the 11:00 meeting point was set. Only with a taxi do we manage to retrieve everyone, and with a delay of almost an hour we set off toward the Red Sea, but the question is:

Part three

During the journey, while the driver races toward the coast, we have lunch with the travel basket. At times the speed is high, and the driver, though skilled at handling the heavy vehicle, occasionally has to brake sharply to slow down and tackle the bends of the winding road, especially because the coach is raised, and on curves, on straights, when we meet gusts of wind, the effect of the high center of gravity is noticeable. I'm about to write this diary when I learn from the TV that on May 2, 2008, in Egypt, on the Sinai road, a road accident occurred: "the coach, with 40 people on board, had departed from Sharm el-Sheikh for Cairo: due to high speed it went off the road while taking a curve, hit a concrete barrier, rolled over several times and caught fire. The toll of the tragedy is 9 dead and 29 injured" (news from the internet).

I move past this news and focus on the next destination. At 13:15 we arrive near Nuweiba and head to the port; we're stopped at a secondary access dedicated to passenger transit. Outside, on the road and in the squares, many trucks await permission to unload their goods. The agency representative, Mohamed, is waiting for us, completing all the necessary paperwork for departure; we see him in a constant comings and goings between a customs office and the guard post. The motor vessel's departure is scheduled for 14:30; we should make it in time to clear customs and complete the baggage check. While we are comfortably seated on the air-conditioned coach, on the street, under the scorching sun, a long line of people patiently waits to access the customs checks.

After a few minutes of waiting, we can unload the suitcases from the coach, and we too, under the scorching sun, must wait in silence, respectful of Egyptian rules, for them to let us through to the baggage and passport check. Then, one by one, we enter a small room, send the suitcases through the metal detector, and leaving the building, we reload all the luggage onto the coach to head, a few yards away, to an enormous building for the exit visa. We enter a hangar; a large room is filled with benches with men seated waiting their turn to be able to leave Egypt.

As I cross the room, I have the sensation of living as if in an associated image, of being in an old black-and-white photo of the Italians who, at the beginning of the last century, landing in America, were crammed into similar rooms for the relevant checks; the impact is truly among the most unexpected and incredible I could have. In an adjacent room we queue for the exit visa, and here, despite there already being a line of people, we have priority. The officer in charge of the checks is scrupulous; we must write all our data in block letters and perfectly legibly, and if he deems it not good, he corrects it on the spot; this makes the visa check an operation that requires quite a lot of time.

Once the exit visa is stamped in the passport, to get back to the coach we cross the previous room again, and I notice that in an adjacent room, the female persons are seated; leaving the building, we get back on the coach, where fortunately they kept our suitcases for us, otherwise who knows what chaos it would be to move around the exit-visa building with all the luggage in tow. Finally we arrive near the motor vessel that will take us to Jordan, the Queen Nefertiti; the coach stops for the last time. On the pier in single file, under the scorching sun and with no shelter, people wait for their boarding; everything is rigidly and rigorously checked by the port police. They tell us that to board we too must get in single file, and we, good Italians, chatting away, arrange ourselves two by two.

Boarding, we deposit the suitcases in the hold; after passing the boarding check, we settle on the aft deck, where there is a bar with tables, and here we meet a gentleman who speaks Italian very well and acts as a waiter; he says he's a tourist helping the onboard staff, but he gives me the impression of being quite close with the crew. After us, the ship gradually fills with people occupying all the seats, and at 16:00 we finally depart. The crossing proceeds well; we chat, read, look at the photos taken during the Sinai ascent, but the tiredness of the night emerges; and in the end we doze on the armchairs and sofas of the motor vessel. After a couple of hours of sailing, we dock at the port of Aqaba; a Jordanian policeman, politely asking if we are Italian, welcomes us to his land.

Before departure, while we were boarding, the police collected our passports, and we'll get them back only when we disembark, complete with entry visa for Jordan. The disembarkation procedures began some time ago; the rear door of the ship has been lowered onto the pier, and disembarkation begins following a precise order: the first to disembark is a sheikh who was traveling with his family, then it's the turn of 4 English, then us Italians. We leave the ship and on the pier we find some coaches, but not ours; a few phone calls to figure out where our vehicle is, and after a few dozen minutes here it comes; we can load the suitcases and get on board. While waiting to board our vehicle, the disembarkation operations had been suspended, and the travelers, crammed into the halls, remain waiting to be able to get off.

We set off for the port customs; we drive a short distance and the vehicle stops near some carts containing a great many suitcases. We get off, take our suitcases and enter a very large waiting room where the customs officers indicate to us that there is no one from the agency to pick us up. Here things are getting complicated; there was supposed to be an agency representative, but since there isn't one, the police hesitate to hand over our passports; we sit on the chairs of the waiting room and wait for the situation to evolve. While we are seated, the ship's passengers arrive at the entry customs; getting off the coaches, they take their suitcases from the carts placed outside, enter and line up in orderly single file. Practically all the ship's passengers pass in front of us, while there's no trace of the agency representative.

I observe carefully the people filing past us; they all speak Arabic, and observing the color of the passports I understand they are of various nationalities. They have enormous sacks, suitcases, boxes, bags, and some must be very heavy given the effort they make to carry or drag them. I don't understand whether they are heading home or are immigrants, or in transit through Jordan heading to other countries; in any case, while waiting for our passports, I have the chance to observe this interesting multitude of humanity. Giorgio and Ambrogina, two members of the group, begin to talk with the border police; everyone is looking for our guide, who really seems not to have arrived; while the policemen make a few phone calls, even the last passengers of the ship have passed in front of us.

Now, when the immense waiting room is completely ours, finally a man of considerable bulk appears; he speaks animatedly in Arabic with the policemen. We understand he's from the agency and claims he had notified the customs officers that he was outside waiting for us. The policemen aren't convinced and ask Giorgio and Ambrogina to sign a report attesting the representative's delay. In the end they give us back our passports and we can head

Part four

Once in the square, we find the bus waiting for us, load our suitcases and set off toward the hotel. The route through the city winds along roads where the traffic is quite heavy but flowing; we get a first taste of this city made of modern buildings with beautiful, illuminated streets. We arrive at the hotel, which appears very clean and comfortable. Time for a shower, and then at the buffet dinner we find many well-cooked and carefully prepared Arab dishes; among them all, the quails, the lamb, and a pasta with vegetables stand out. Finally, after a little stroll around the outside of the hotel, a good restorative sleep serves to regenerate us from the day's fatigue.

Part one

The phone rings; it's 8:30. Natalia and Simona are calling me for breakfast. Last night, in the room with the air conditioning that was slowly going, under a nice duvet, I slept really well. Looking out from the balcony, the day appears sunny; I go down for breakfast, where I find excellent fruit juices, excellent pastries and lots more food. The morning is dedicated to relaxation; some take advantage of the beach to sunbathe, some dive into the sea discovering that the water is cold, others use the hotel's warm pools; I take the opportunity to read, organize my notes and check the photos taken in previous days. While waiting for the guide to arrive, reading a book I find some interesting insights that help me understand where I am: I'm in the Middle East.

The Middle East can be defined as the geo-political concept identifying a geographic area characterized by the cohabitation of a melting pot of very ancient peoples linked to one another by a common linguistic and cultural matrix, but divided by millennia of interethnic conflicts. In this particular and turbulent area are contained the states of Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, Israel and the West Bank (Palestine). I take a walk outside the hotel to observe the city of Aqaba (G-TCI 131); I find streets and buildings under construction; the city is expanding and shows its modernity made of beautiful houses, luxurious hotels, well-kept streets. In front of the hotel opens the bay of the Red Sea, and in it there are anchored ships, and beyond the bay there is a hill where skyscrapers stand out that seem recently built, surrounded by low houses and greenery.

Part two

We resume our journey and head into Wadi Rum, into this stupendous stretch of desert whose description is difficult for me because of its beauty, and I think it is right to quote it from the book "Wadi Rum, il deserto dei beduini." Ed.plurigraf, p. 4: "Visiting Wadi Rum is truly a splendid experience not only for the body but also for the spirit. The spectacular work of the creator is captivating here as in many other places on earth, if only for its grandeur." In the same text on p. 8 we read: "The unique geology of the Wadi, its history and its grandiose vastness are of an immediately perceptible splendor. Known as the "valley of the moon," it extends across the southern part of Jordan.

Of very ancient formation, it owes the name by which it is famous precisely to the continuous action of atmospheric agents that over the course of millennia have shaped the landscape making it lunar, giving the stupendous scenery of sandstone rocks that rise suddenly amid stretches of sand, impalpable lobster-colored dunes, walls carved by the wind, stone pinnacles, deep valleys, ancient dried-up riverbeds." Wadi Rum is the land of the Bedouins, whose name derives from the Arabic "badiah" meaning "inhabitant of the desert," a people who, for those living in this area, still maintain their original nomadism, devoting themselves to raising camels, sheep and goats; and it is to guarantee pasture for the livestock that the origin of perennial nomadism lies. The structure of the family is patriarchal, several families form a clan and several clans constitute a tribe.

Over the centuries they have managed to preserve their traditions which, having come down intact to today, are visible; the family hierarchy, the division of tasks, clothing, the preparation of tea and coffee, hospitality. Great attention must be paid to the structure of the tent, the Bedouin's mobile home, made with fabrics obtained from the wool of dromedaries and goats; the former are brown and are used for the walls, the latter are black and are used for the upper covering of the tent. This black wool has the property of letting the wind through during the day and, in case of rain, of becoming waterproof. During the evenings in the tents the Bedouins like to entertain themselves with songs and dances, which are accompanied by the sound of a local instrument, the rababah: made from a small sound box, with a neck and a few stretched strings that is played with a small bow.

Only the men perform the dances, while the women sing and clap rhythmically. But let's return to our journey. Having left the lunch spot, we head to the entry point into Wadi Rum, the Visitor Center, where after paying the ticket we will board off-road vehicles. Here a particular mountain draws everyone's attention; they look like pillars rising toward the sky. In fact it is the mountain that inspired Thomas Edward Lawrence, the English colonel known as "Lawrence of Arabia" for having led the Arab revolt against the Turks in the First World War, to write his book "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom." The view and the particular shape of the mount become an occasion for photographs.

Finally we set off with the off-road vehicles toward the desert; the vehicles are driven by boys barely more than adolescents, ours has a dead battery and only starts downhill, so the driver does everything to park the vehicle making sure the start is downhill. The driving is certainly not the best and these drivers enjoy racing on the desert sand. We are sitting in the back and at times, because of the excessive jolting, it is not as fun as it might seem.

We take a nice tour among the fascinating desert mountains, climb to the top of a hill where we have a truly unique view over much of the desert, then head in the direction of a Bedouin tent but shortly before we stop near a side valley, Mohamud invites us to climb a steep sandy slope to see what's up there; with Tonina I scramble up the climb, at the end of it we find plants that have unexpectedly grown among the rocks of the mountain, this desert really never ceases to amaze. We come down from the mountain and set off again toward the Bedouin tent where they offer us tea and coffee following their ritual; the hot tea is drunk with the right hand holding the glass with thumb and index finger so as not to burn yourself.

The infusion is made with tea, cardamom, sage and cinnamon, which, skillfully blended, create a beverage that is pleasant to me, even though for someone in the group it will later cause stomach problems. Before resuming the return journey, we stop to see rock carvings dating back to 1,000 BC, placed on a wall. We take up the desert again, arriving at a gorge, where the "U" shape of the mountain allowed this area in times of conflict to be transformed into a natural prison sheltered from the constant desert wind; we stop to observe a boulder where the faces of Lawrence of Arabia, Prince Abdhullah (a name meaning Servant of God) and the then chief of the Bedouins have been carved. After taking photos at the spot, we resume the journey crossing the last stretch of desert toward our coach.

We head to the edges of Wadi Rum and then begin to climb toward the mountains in the direction of Petra, the ancient, mysterious and undiscoverable capital of the Nabataeans, a people who inhabited the area for centuries. As we continue the journey, the desert changes shape, from sandy it becomes rocky, then the hills become green and there appear plowed and wheat-cultivated patches, which serve as fodder for the grazing flocks. It is evening when we arrive at the hotel located on the ridge of the mountain, from where you can see the deep valley below. Room assignments, shower and then dinner with Jordanian dishes; the smoked beef is excellent, the semi-spicy sauces, the chicken. After dinner, amid the inevitable card game and some chatting, Franco plays the piano, making the evening truly pleasant.

I go outside for a little stroll, but given the cold and the wind blowing it is really hard to stay there, so I decide to go back in to listen to the music and take a look in the shop; while browsing among the books, I find some in Italian that seem interesting to me, I decide to buy them.

Part one

Wake-up at 7:00, tonight I didn't sleep very well, I kept waking up, maybe it's the excitement of seeing Petra? Breakfast and at 8:00 we are ready to set off toward the valley floor where, hidden and protected among the rock, Petra rises. From above you see absolutely nothing, only barren mountains and desert valleys, who knows where this treasure of the Nabataeans is hiding? After all, if this city was only discovered in the 1800s there must be a reason: it was truly well hidden among the inhospitable mountains. Leaving the hotel we are greeted by the wind coming from the east, a sandy wind that, having arrived from the desert, carries sand, making the sky hazel-colored. The guide tells us that we were lucky to go to Wadi Rum yesterday, today because of the sandy wind you would really see very little.

After the descent, we travel through the valley where about 22,000 people live, whose source of livelihood is tourism. We cross a town, with sometimes narrow streets, and arrive at a large square, a parking lot for coaches; we have arrived at Petra (G-TCI 106). Petra is one of Jordan's main sources of wealth; in fact millions of tourists visit it every year; in periods of greatest influx they have peaks of 7,000 people per day. Petra was the capital of the Nabataeans, a nomadic people who grew rich through caravan trade, whose caravans pushed from southern Arabia along the south-north axis and from Syria to Egypt along the east-west line.

The commercial skill of the Nabataeans lay in their ability to identify which were the most precious goods demanded in the countries at the ends of the communication routes; bitumen for mummification, myrrh and incense for religious rites, spices for cooking, gold, silver, glass, damask fabric and silk. These goods made this people immensely rich, and they became settled in the city. When, through historical vicissitudes, it fell into oblivion, Petra was forgotten over time, was rediscovered in the 19th century, and from then on became an archaeological point of attraction and later a tourist one. It is difficult to describe Petra, perhaps the best words were written by Fabio Bourbon: "I loved Petra the first time I saw it and even today, years later, on the occasions when I have the honor of visiting it again, I feel as excited as a boy on his first date.

Although I have traveled the world, I have not been everywhere, but I think I can state without hesitation that this is an absolutely unique place. Petra is one of those rare places where even those who do not believe in magic must soon reconsider their convictions. If you know how to grasp its enchantment - listening to the poetry of silence, observing the inexhaustible kaleidoscope of colors, admiring the superb balance of the rock-cut architecture - you too will be rewarded by the intimate, profound sensation of a beauty without equal. Above all, you will return home carrying a treasure in your heart....." (Fabio Bourbon - Guida archeologica a Petra, Preface) But let's return to our journey, we get off the coach and head toward the entrance to the valley. A gate bars the road; only after purchasing the ticket and passing the checks can we access the area.

The dirt road winds slightly downhill but it is possible to take horses to avoid walking it, but the guide advises against it; in fact those who took the horse covered only a few hundred meters and upon reaching the entrance of the siq will end their ride, and by the way here there are also carriages available to travel through the siq, but for a stretch of less than 2 km, the price asked is truly astronomical. We begin to descend into the valley and from the very first meters you can encounter, carved into the rock, the first Nabataean funerary monuments which have their doors facing east, where the sun rises, and are also positioned against the wind. Originally the tombs had small doors, then over time, when the tombs were used as houses, the doors were enlarged. In this place, historically we have the transition from necropolis to acropolis.

The dead were placed in the tombs and, once only the bones remained, they were collected and buried elsewhere. Today all the tombs have a name that was assigned by the inhabitants according to the shape or the presence of certain details. The first tomb we encounter, located on the right of the road, is the tomb of the serpent, the name derives from a sculpture present in the tomb, depicting a serpent coiled upon itself, which for the Nabataeans symbolized eternity. In some tombs there are side stairs, which according to the builders served the soul of the deceased to ascend toward the sky.

Continuing toward the entrance of the canyon, on the left of the road you see the tomb of the obelisks (G-TCI 109), a name deriving from four obelisks carved at the top of the tomb, while below, after passing through the main door, you enter the triclinium, a place intended for the commemoration of the deceased. In the tombs transformed into houses, you can notice, in addition to the widened entrance doors, also the channels carved into the rock that served to collect rainwater that was gathered in cisterns. The Nabataeans proved to be great engineers in the collection and conservation of rainwater in this desert area where rains are truly rare. Continuing along the road we arrive at a widening and here begins the siq (G-TCI 110), that is, the narrow canyon that leads to the city.

The siq is a fissure that occurred in the rock as a result of an earthquake and was then shaped over the centuries by water and is still a narrow path where in some points the distance between the rock does not exceed two meters; the entrance to the siq was considered sacred. Shortly before the entrance you can see the dam and the tunnel that the Nabataeans dug into the rock to channel away rainwater and avoid flooding in the ancient city. We enter the siq and after a few meters, we see the remains of the Roman triumphal arch that marks the entrance to the city. Along the walls, clearly visible, carved into the sandstone, are the channels and terracotta pipes that collected and channeled rainwater into the cisterns. You walk in the siq where the eye is lost among the steep walls between 80 and 100 meters high, while the sun at times struggles to reach the rocky bottom.

On the walls, oriented toward the east, that is, toward the rising sun, are carved altars and aedicules that enclosed deities. At a certain point on the wall you can glimpse, though eroded by the sand carried by the wind, a sculpture depicting two dromedaries and two camel drivers at life size heading toward the city, while on the opposite side other figures in the direction of the exit from the city. Looking upward, the guide shows us a sandstone formation beautiful both in shape and color; the shape is the work of the wind which, carrying desert sand, over the centuries has shaped the rock creating this surreal shape with stupendous colors: we can admire the yellow given by sulfur, the gray given by iron and the red given by copper.

We continue when at a certain point Mohamud has us stop and tells us to approach a wall; in the crack between the two walls you can glimpse a finely decorated detail, it is the Temple of the Treasury or of the Pharaoh (G-TCI 111): we have reached Petra!!! Once the siq ends, between the sandstone walls we emerge into a small clearing, in the place where on the opposite front stands this magnificent temple, called in Arabic Al-Khaznah, with its stupendous architecture, its fine and delicate decorations.

Part two

We stop to take photos, observe it in all its beauty, enter to visit its interior and it is extraordinary how the Nabataeans managed to carve the rock creating in true

Part three

I'm about to set off again, but I hear Michelina shouting, and since she's not far away I run to see what happened: I find Michelina standing next to the donkey. Following a sudden movement, one of her stirrups got caught with the stirrup of another donkey and Michelina found herself thrown from the saddle, fortunately without any consequence, and above all she was thrown off on the side of the wall and not on the opposite side where a precipice opens up. At this point we continue on foot and after a few metres we reach a small clearing, it's the end of the climb with the donkeys and people are made to get down, from here on you continue on foot.

I don't understand why they don't let the donkeys go any further, but after a few metres the answer comes on its own: we reach a ledge carved into the rock a few dozen metres long and just over one metre wide, with the sandstone wall on one side and, on the other, beneath our feet, a drop of a few hundred metres. So that's why they made people get down, to prevent anyone from falling while walking along the ledge.

We resume the climb and the hot sun makes itself felt more and more, the steps, though regular, seem never to end, many people are stopped to rest and catch their breath; we continue and finally we find a bit of a descent, a few steps to stretch our legs and then another stretch of climbing, the path winds between the sandstone walls when, almost by magic, on our right appears the façade of Ad-Dayr, the "monastery" (G-TCI 116), this stunning tomb which in Byzantine times was transformed into a monastery from which it takes its name. The façade is astonishing, it is among the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful in Petra, it is carved into the rock and to create the vertical front they removed a great deal of oblique rock.

This monument should be seen in the afternoon when the sun, moving towards the west, enhances its colours, and then the pink turns to red, the red to brown and the blue sky creates a unique contrast of fascinating beauty. I can consider myself lucky to admire such magnificence, in fact, given the route which is demanding anyway, not all people climb up here to admire this tomb. A short stop at the refreshment point to recover a bit of breath and then we continue towards the panoramic spot located a few minutes' walk away. We walk on desert rock, where even the grass is sparse, sand and rock are the only elements that make up this landscape, in the distance the sky appears hazy, in fact, beyond the mountains, the wind is carrying sand which reduces visibility.

As we walk we reach a fork; two paths lead to two panoramic points, we start by climbing the one on the left, which overlooks the desert, but because of the sandy wind beyond the mountain range nothing can be seen except the grey/red of the sand. I reach the top of the panoramic point and they invite me to take photos, but I'm staggering, my head is spinning, the dehydration is really severe, I take the little water bottle out of my backpack, sip a little and quickly recover; now I can photograph, take notes and admire what can be seen from this place. We are at the top of the mountain and leaning over to look into the void, I see below me valleys with wonderful colours deriving from the rock, from the green and from the geological formations.

I leave this panoramic point and go to observe the landscape from the second observation point which is a few hundred metres away, having reached the top I find myself on a rocky spur among the mountain peaks that form the surrounding frame where I can admire the valley below. As I move away from the vertiginous spur, looking to the left of the site and a few metres below me, I notice the Nabataean sacrificial altar. The altar is clearly visible in the rock, I can perfectly make out the well-carved edge, the channel for draining the blood and a hole where it was collected; it is carved so well into the sandstone that it appears as if perfectly placed on top. After taking photos and notes I go back down towards the "monastery" where the meeting with all those who climbed up is; here a group photo and then we descend towards the valley floor.

Now we have to climb back up the long road we travelled in the morning. Since my legs are starting to ache, I decide to ride a little donkey for a stretch, which trots along the ancient Roman road alongside the majestic colonnade. The experience is truly pleasant, riding a donkey allows you to observe the landscape well, with the absolute spectacle of the sunset over the Royal Tombs, the Street of Facades and other Tombs. Despite the donkey's gait I manage to take a few photos, but above all to give my tired legs a bit of rest. I climb back up to the amphitheatre, where the donkeys stop, I pay the toll and proceed in the shade to the Temple of the Treasury. Here the group reunites again, a brief consultation and then some set off towards the exit entering the siq and others wait for the carriage to travel this stretch of road more comfortably.

It has just gone 4 pm, we are waiting for the carriages to negotiate the price; at 4:15 the carriages don't arrive and I gather that we are late for the appointment. At 4:30 I decide to head back on foot, I set off through the siq and after a few metres the carriages arrive, I turn back, to try to negotiate the price, but the carts are stormed by other tourists who don't respect the queue of people who were waiting in an orderly fashion, the drivers ask 30€ for transporting two people, personally I consider this outright theft and decide to set off on foot. After 30 minutes of a good walk I am, on time, at the entrance gate, but we have to wait for those who were with me; a few minutes later they arrive too. We set off for the hotel, shower, dinner and at 8 pm I put on comfortable shoes, take my backpack with camera, tripod and we set off for Petra by night.

By bus we reach the tourist centre where they give a brief presentation of the evening, the immediate feeling is that of an initiative just for tourists without much added value; but given the cost of the evening, a good 12€, I hope to be wrong. We set off towards the valley passing through the entrance gate and … along the road lit by dozens of candles we walk towards the entrance of the siq. The half-full moon lights the road well and it is lovely to stroll along. There are many people, and I decide to close the group being careful not to leave anyone behind. In the meantime I take the opportunity to take a few night-time photos using the tripod I brought with me. We reach the siq and enter; everything lit by candles which create a great and evocative effect. Walking through the canyon is truly fantastic with the walls partially lit by the moon.

In the darkest spots, the candles light the road well, highlighting the shadows of the Roman paving that partly forms it. In a short while we reach the Temple of the Treasury, the whole square is scattered with candles placed on the ground between rows of mats, where we can sit. After a few minutes the Bedouin music show begins, a player of the rababah (the Bedouin musical instrument) starts and plays a few tunes then is followed by a flute player who also plays for a few minutes and then nothing more; no dancing or any accompaniment to the music. Once this poor performance, which could be called theatrical more than musical, is over, mint tea is handed out and the sale of Bedouin music DVDs/CDs begins. An exclusively commercial evening that expresses very little in the way of art and culture.

The only pleasant thing is the evocative aspect of the siq lit by the light of the candles and the moon.

Part four

As we retrace the siq, Don Maurizio explains the historical and religious facts of the exodus of the Jewish people, the meanings, the symbols, the rites. A little disappointed, we return to the hotel around 10:30 pm and before going to bed, I treat myself to a nice cold beer.

Part one

Wake-up at 7:30, we pack our suitcases, have breakfast, and then we check that they are loaded onto the coach, and we set off from Petra. Along the way we stop at a point where, among the mountain rocks, one can glimpse the access to the Siq and part of the city, but you really need a good eye to spot them. Once we leave the valley, the journey continues over desert hills where the Bedouin houses have been built; in the side valleys you can see oak trees growing where there is water. Man is cultivating the desert area with wheat as food for the sheep that graze on the hills. By internal rules, wheat production for food use cannot exceed 10% of national demand; the remaining sown crop is used by pastoral farming; wheat for human consumption is imported from the USA.

While Mohamud is describing life in Jordan, we reach the vicinity of King Baldwin's castle: an imposing structure built on top of a rocky hill, currently being restored. We are on the King's Highway, a route that winds through the whole of Jordan and, in ancient times, was dotted with a series of fortresses where the population and soldiers could find shelter and lodging. Mohamud, with great pride, in response to our questions starts telling us again about his nation, explaining that there is no pension system, or rather, as it is a recently established state, the system is not yet consolidated and parents are supported by their children. The average age of women is 70, that of men is 69.

In Jordan the schools are very serious and young people study; the school system includes 6 years of primary school, 3 years of middle school, 3 years of high school and finally university, where well 57% of the students are women. The high level of education creates a serious shortage of manpower, which is imported from Egypt; will they be the people who were with us on the boat when we landed at Aqaba? Unemployment is fairly low, having stood at 13% for some time. A "curious" fact is linked to the job market: here women earn less than men, consequently the labour cost for companies is lower than for male employees, and this phenomenon means that it is the fair sex who work as employees while the men stay at home, most of the time supported by the women.

Clothing is free, but the scarf is a very ancient tradition; men wear this headpiece which is called the Kifia, and originally the colours had a very precise meaning: • white and red, for the days of the week; • white and black, for mourning; • white, for feast days. Today, the use of the colours has been distorted and the kifia identifies nationality: • white and red, for Jordan; • white and black, for Palestine; • white, for those who have been to Mecca. Then Mohamud explains some Muslim religious traditions to us, starting with the daily prayer that must be performed 5 times a day; at dawn, at midday, in the afternoon, at sunset, and finally in the dark. The prayer is always preceded by ablutions as a sign of purification. He explains to us the 5 pillars of Islam; • God is one and merciful and Mohammed is his prophet; • Prayer • Ramadan; • Almsgiving; • The pilgrimage to Mecca.

He continues with the description of funeral rites, where the deceased is washed, wrapped in a white sheet, then placed, temporarily, in a coffin and taken to the mosque for the funeral rite. Finally he is buried in the earth, lying down and with his face turned toward Mecca. Above the tomb a stone is placed with his name and surname, date of birth and death engraved on it. During the funeral vigil the relatives follow a very precise ritual: • on the first day, the men gather under a tent, drink tea and eat a date; • on the second day, the women visit the deceased reading phrases from the Koran.

Still on the religious theme, Mohamud tells us that the feasts are divided into two types: • the small feast, which takes place at the end of Ramadan and is characterised by the food that is cooked for the occasion, as well as the gifts that are given to children; • the great feast, which takes place in the two months following the pilgrimage to Mecca, where tradition dictates that the event be celebrated with the sacrifice of rams. The customs linked to religion show a strong popular tradition, and among Muslims there are about 85% who practise. Speaking of crafts, the guide tells us that in Jordan the little vases filled with coloured sand are characteristic, with various figures created by the sand itself; camels and palms are the most widespread figures, as well as desert backgrounds with mountains and birds, dromedaries and palms.

While Mohamud is telling us about his native land, the journey continues through the desert dotted with the occasional village; the roads are well asphalted and it is a pleasure to travel, the driver is a good guide. As we approach a built-up area, we make a stop, some for "plumbing" reasons, some to quench their thirst. We go into a bar, inside which opens an immense shop of souvenirs and handicraft products; at first glance it would seem like cheap goods, but looking carefully I realise that the artefacts are of good, if not excellent and refined, workmanship.

There are daggers and silver jewellery, coral and hard-stone necklaces, the inevitable hookah and the rababah, brass coffee jugs, various terracotta or ceramic pottery, chairs and game tables decorated with stones, tables with mosaics of flowers or geometric patterns, and in an adjoining room there is a craftsman who works hard stones making necklaces and earrings. Seeing these pleasant and refined products, it is only natural that someone in the group devotes themselves to shopping, and while they are busy choosing the products, I continue my tour of the shop where I can admire valuable silk carpets, as well as wooden chairs crafted in cabinetmaking with mother-of-pearl, which against the black of the wood takes on a sheen with fascinating nuances. Also inside the bazaar, there is a beauty department with products from the nearby Dead Sea.

We set off again and arrive at Al-Karak (G-TCI 99), a small town that stands on the "King's Highway", the ancient route that linked the north to the south of Jordan, dotted with castles built by the Crusaders. We arrive at the completely fortified city, travelling along narrow streets where the driver has to use all his skill to drive the coach up to the entrance of the fortress. We visit the place, or rather what remains of it, since over the centuries the structure has been plundered and used as a quarry to obtain material for the construction of the neighbouring houses. The fortification is truly imposing, built in several layers, it has immense dimensions; we visit the ancient stables, the kitchens, the dining halls and other rooms intended for various uses.

We see the narrow and hidden prisons, as well as the immense parade ground and the building where the Crusader knights were housed. Once the visit is over, we set off again and, crossing the city, we pass near an Italian hospital founded in 1934 and still run by Comboni nuns. We take the King's Highway again heading north and, as we approach a dip, we see ancient milestones; placed at regular distances of 1,420 metres, they indicated the correct way to the camel drivers who travelled this ancient and important road. Probably, since a caravan did not cover more than 40/42 kilometres a day, every 28 or 29 milestones there was a water well where the animals and men could drink (see my Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan diary

Part two

Along the road we spot many mimosa plants, while at the edge of the fields we admire the constant presence of flowering black iris plants. Remaining fascinated by this stupendous and desert-like hilly landscape, we reach the vicinity of Wadi al-Mawjib (G-TCI 98), a valley more than 800 metres deep at the bottom of which, by Greek engineers, interrupting the course of the river, a gravity dam has been built that creates an artificial basin whose water is used for agricultural purposes. We descend into the riverbed, cross it and climb up the other side of the valley, arriving on the opposite side where, to our great surprise, we find land cultivated with wheat and olive trees, where each plot of land includes the house of the tenant farmers or the owners.

It is truly incredible how from one side of the valley to the other the landscape changes radically from desert to green and agricultural area. It is now time for the lunch stop; we stop at a restaurant where we find chicken, lamb, dips, pasta, rice, and we enjoy a very good and tasty meat ragù. We set off again and, as we approach Madaba (G-TCI 90), we notice that the cars have licence plates of different colours; we ask Mohamud and he clarifies the mystery for us, the plates; • White are for private vehicles; • Red are for state vehicles; • Green are for public vehicles. Once we reach the city of Madaba we cross it and park the coach in a car park for tourists. Not having read the day's programme properly, I cannot grasp what there is to see in this small town with a rather modern appearance.

We get off the coach, walking along streets full of local craft shops where carpets and mosaics can be seen; after a few minutes of walking under the scorching sun, we reach the vicinity of a wall; we have arrived at the Orthodox church of St George (G-TCI 91). We enter the area and next to the church there is a modern building; my curiosity is rising, I understand that we are going to see a mosaic, but since I don't have the guide with me, I have no other references; we enter the building and on a wall a photo is displayed reproducing the mosaic. Mohamud explains to us the importance of this extremely important and admirable masterpiece; created in 600 AD, it is the Map of the Holy Land full of religious references, and it has come down to our days. The size of the mosaic is impressive, 16 by 6 metres, made with more than three million tesserae.

The guide, based on the four cardinal points, illustrates the territory shown in the mosaic; one can see: the Jordan River, the Dead Sea, the city of Jerusalem with the Roman cardo, the city of Madaba where we are. Once the explanation is over, we enter the church of St George and on the floor adjacent to the altar we can admire this masterpiece, which although incomplete through the course of the centuries, has come down to our days. We leave Madaba heading toward Mount Nebo (G-TCI 93), the place where Moses saw the Promised Land; from here one overlooks the Jordan, Palestine and the Dead Sea. And it is also the place where there is the tomb of Moses, which so far has not been found. The entrance is through a gate guarded by guards; a soldier stops Tonina and says "no entry".

A moment of slight panic, what's happening? Why won't he let her in? Then laughing the guard says "since you are charming it's better that you stay here". Smiling, we resume our walk and shortly afterwards, climbing up the paved road, we reach an enormous memorial stone; a monument that was placed on the occasion of the visit of Pope John Paul II. Today it is hot and because of the haze, the view cannot range into the distance and observe the "promised land". On the mount stands a church cared for by the Franciscan friars of the Custody of the Holy Land, which is under renovation; consequently it is impossible to access the interior to admire the remarkable and famous floor mosaics created in the 6th century. We take a walk around the area, a few souvenir photos and one at the iron cross that recalls Moses' cross with which he healed the people bitten by snakes in Wadi Rum.

Once the group has gathered, we recite a prayer and then we go to visit the local archaeological museum where, in a tent, valuable mosaics are kept. Leaving Mount Nebo as we descend, along the road we stop at a mosaic workshop. Besides being a craft workshop where mosaics of every size and workmanship are made, the structure also houses a school for the art of mosaic. We enter the workshop where we find three people busy preparing mosaics; they explain how they are made and show us the various stages; they tell us that the school and the adjoining cooperative have 250 workers, of whom well 210 are "differently abled". Once the visit to the museum is over, we go into the shop, where you can admire mosaics of every shape and subject, inlaid furniture, silver jewellery, woollen or silk carpets, necklaces, hard-stone earrings, pottery worked in mosaic.

During the stop we are offered excellent hot tea, which quenches our thirst. At the end we get back on the coach and set off again for Amman. Along the perfectly asphalted road that crosses the region, we see dozens of pine trees that have grown crooked as a result of the constant action of the wind blowing from the west. Continuing the journey, after about 1 hour we arrive at Amman, the capital of Jordan; the sight is unique, all the buildings are clad in white limestone, giving the city a particular colouring, especially at sunset when the white stone is tinged with red by the last rays of the sun. The extent of the city is endless. Amman, like Rome, stands on 7 hills; it is a modern city with shops, large shopping centres, perfectly kept roads with a steady flow of traffic.

One detail immediately strikes me: on the ground there is not even a scrap of paper, nor the slightest bit of rubbish. We ask Mohamud why there is so much cleanliness, and he explains that 24 hours a day street cleaners literally keep the whole city clean. At a road intersection I notice that the traffic police wear a curious hat on top of which rises a metal spike, which recalls the Austro-Hungarian style of a few centuries ago. We arrive at the hotel; a 20-storey structure, it immediately proves to be a real melting pot frequented by tourists and businessmen. At the reception there is a constant coming and going of people, some arriving and some leaving.

Looking carefully, the building appears quite dated both in its interior furnishings and in its services; the lifts are very slow; I try to go up on foot, but it is impossible to access the service stairs, so I have to wait for the lift, which slowly takes me up to my floor. While I wait for my suitcases to be delivered to my room, I take the opportunity to read something about Amman and continue updating my travel notes. The suitcases arrive, a shower, and I go down for dinner. In the dining room, the group gathers at three tables; the food is a buffet, so you can taste whatever pleases your palate most, and at the end of dinner you have to pay for the drinks; the waiters ask what you have drunk, bring the receipts and ask for the money.

They bring back the change, and I notice that it is wrong; I call the waiter back and have a little discussion about the amount — after all, mathematics is not a matter of opinion; in the end, after the third "clarification" the change arrives, but something is still missing. Talking it over with the others in the group, we realise that the waiters are profiting on the bill. The return of the change is never what it should be! A real shame.

Part Three

Once dinner is over, we decide to stay in the hotel, but the spaces for recreational activities are truly limited. I take a walk around various lounges and then decide, together with some companions, to go up to the 20th floor to the panoramic terrace. After a bit of waiting, we manage to take the lift that takes us to the top of the hotel, but on the way out we find our way blocked by a bodyguard who asks us for a pass. A pass to go where? The terrace and the pool are occupied by a private party and to get in you need an invitation. We take our lift again and return to the ground floor, where coaches of Americans are arriving; the people fill the reception and the entire ground floor. At this point I decide to go to my room and use the time to read and write; I spend the evening reading one of the books on Petra written by Fabio Bourbon, which I bought in recent days.

The reading, the photographs and the drawings are gripping and the evening passes quickly; at the end, a good sleep.

Part One

The alarm rings punctually at 7:00, breakfast, and then at 8:00 departure is scheduled, but the slowness of the lifts makes us a few minutes late. Once back on our coach, we head toward the archaeological site of Gerasa; we travel for about an hour when, near a small bridge over a river, we stop; we have reached the Alzarga Jaboc river, the place told of in the Bible that saw Jacob wrestling with the Angel. It is a place with very strong symbolism; Israel means "the man who fought with God", and since Jacob wrestled with the angel his name was changed to Israel; here the passage takes place from Jacob/tribe to Israel/people. After the historical and religious explanations given by Mohamud and by Don Maurizio, the journey resumes toward Gerasa (G-TCI 68), where we arrive under the hot sun already high in the sky.

Leaving the coach, we approach the archaeological complex of the beautiful Roman city which, buried by the desert, was rediscovered only a few centuries ago, and is still the subject of steady excavation and restoration. Although much has already been brought to light and reconstructed, a great deal still lies beneath the desert sand, waiting to be discovered. We enter Gerasa passing through the imposing and astonishing Arch of Hadrian (G-TCI 69), built in 129 AD on the occasion of the Emperor's visit. The arch, made of marble, is still being restored and features beautiful and refined sculptures. Shortly after the Arch, on the left, is the hippodrome, rebuilt on the original one. Adjacent to the hippodrome are ancient shops with refined mosaic floors. Nearby stands the Byzantine Christian cemetery.

Before continuing the tour of the archaeological site, we stop at a bar and, as we are about to set off again, a school group arrives, proceeding while singing and playing flutes and drums. Fortunately they stop near the walls, so that we can enter the city without the horde of schoolchildren following us. We enter the Roman city through the ancient South Gate and, after a short distance, we arrive at the Oval Plaza, from which the Cardo Maximus started, heading north. This vast square, 90 metres long and 80 wide, is the only known oval Roman square in all of Asia. We pass through what remains of the Temple of Zeus and arrive at the South Theatre (G-TCI 74), built of marble, it has been restored and is very well preserved. It has perfect acoustics; it could and can seat well 3,500 seated spectators.

On some occasions the orchestra area was flooded and was the venue for naval performances. Inside it, a small group of Bedouins, dressed as desert guards, play bagpipes and drums. Continuing the tour, we arrive at what remains of three Byzantine churches: • St George, built in 529 AD, presents remains of the perimeter walls with traces of the mosaic paving; • John the Baptist, built in 531, with corner motifs recalling the 4 seasons; • Cosmas and Damian, built in 533, with the mosaic floor almost entirely preserved and admirable from above, where one can see floral motifs, people and Latin inscriptions. Advancing through the city, we arrive at the remains of the Cathedral with the church of St Theodore adjacent.

Outside the church, a small square was the resting place of the catechumens; usually adults on the path of religious conversion, not having yet received the sacrament of baptism they could not enter the church; consequently they remained in the small square listening to the religious functions celebrated inside the religious building. But why so many churches so close to one another? The reason must be sought in the ancient tradition whereby on weekdays Holy Mass could be celebrated in a church only once a day (a custom later superseded by the Second Vatican Council); at this point a problem arose: if one wanted to celebrate a second mass, what could be done? Another church was needed, perhaps adjacent, as in this case.

Listening to the explanations given by Mohamud and by Don Maurizio, I reflect on the charm and intensity of events that have happened in history and I recall to mind that in today's civilisation many concepts are taken for granted, whereas in past times religious and life customs had a path made of rites, of signs, of moments marked out in time. Practices that today are losing their religious, historical and cultural meaning; it would be worth taking up and deepening this culture, before it is irretrievably lost. Leaving the Christian churches, we walk a few metres and on a hill we reach the imposing temple of Artemis (G-TCI 74), where the beautiful columns topped by magnificent finely carved marble Corinthian capitals rise toward the sky.

Mohamud slips among the mammoth columns and, having reached the base of one, stops; he shows us a spoon stuck into the base of the same column; the spoon moves!! That is, the column performs an imperceptible oscillation which is highlighted by the spoon placed right at its base. Ambrogina wants to film the oscillation with the video camera; I approach and put my hand as a point of reference; I can observe that the oscillation of the spoon is significant; at times it comes close to 10 centimetres. It is truly impressive to think that I am under a column about ten metres high that oscillates continuously; perhaps it is better to look for a less "floating" area. We leave the temple of Artemis and, descending along the staircase on the hill, we reach the Cardo Maximus (G-TCI 75), where on our right, facing north, we see the Damascus Gate.

The cardo, built in the 1st century AD, was a long paved street completely lined with porticoes on the sides. Walking along it we reach the Nymphaeum (G-TCI 77), a stupendous construction dedicated to the deities of the springs which at the time was enlivened by water fountains.

Further on we reach the tetrapylon, a circular open space, the ancestor of our traffic roundabouts, with the remains of ancient shops on the sides; a little further on we find some shops with an adjacent fountain in the shape of a cross; I look carefully at its orientation, I ask Mohamud in which direction Jerusalem is, and I see that the cross is oriented toward the Holy City; will it be a coincidence? We continue along the Cardo Maximus until we reach the Oval Plaza, a stop for souvenir photos, and then, as we approach the exit toward the Arch of Hadrian, a cloud of dust rises from the hippodrome; what's happening? It looks like someone is running, it looks like a Roman chariot, but am I dreaming? Not at all, a show with chariot racing is taking place.

In the stands there are tourists and in the arena two chariots can be seen advancing rapidly, while on the sides extras wear Roman armour, with their purple-red cloaks. We approach to watch, but a guard drives us away saying that if we want to watch the show we have to pay for a ticket. The group moves on, but some manage to get close to the fence and take photographs. Once out of the archaeological site, we get back on the coach, where the air conditioning brings some relief compared with the heat of Gerasa. The programme includes a visit to the fortress of Qalàat al-Rabad, which we reach after a journey of more than half an hour. We approach the mountain where the imposing Crusader fortification stands, but once we reach the square, the guide realises that the road is closed for works, so one would have to walk up the final hill.

At this point, after a quick consultation, and given that the interior of the stronghold is similar to that of Kerak which we have already visited, Mohamud proposes an alternative: go to Gerasa for lunch and in the afternoon go to see the Roman theatre of Amm

Part Two

We accept the change of programme very willingly and return to Gerasa for lunch, where the restaurant is located within the archaeological area; lunch is a buffet and Jordanian cuisine offers us many specialities including rice and mutton, chicken, vegetables, sauces, fruit (local bananas, small and tasty); I especially enjoy the aubergines with milk and the meatballs. Our tables are placed near the bread oven, where the dough is rolled out as if for a pizza and then put in the oven; the baked bread is fragrant, excellent and truly tasty. While we are having lunch, the schoolchildren we met in the morning arrive and the restaurant comes cheerfully to life. At the end of lunch, having seen the sign of an Italian coffee, we order it; a correct choice, as the coffee is really good.

Once lunch is over, we return to Amman (G-TCI 50); on board the coach we take a sightseeing tour of the capital, we see the royal palace which stands on a hill with its imposing entrance, and shortly afterwards we stop to visit the Roman amphitheatre (G-TCI 56). Adjacent to the amphitheatre, the museum of popular tradition and the folklore museum have been set up. I decide, first of all, to visit the two museums, starting with the one of popular traditions where I can observe the typical clothing depicted by tribe, silver jewellery, hard-stone necklaces, face covers (for women), weapons, mosaics and woollen artefacts for daily use. In the folklore museum I can look carefully at the reconstruction of the Bedouin tents, firearms and bladed weapons; the reconstruction of the shops of the coffee seller, the shoemaker, the pottery maker; the interiors of the dwellings are also reproduced.

In other rooms the tools for working the land are displayed, those for making baskets, the grain mill, wool working. While inside glass cases there are brass glasses, pottery, tableware, books and perfume flasks. Leaving the museums and entering the theatre, I climb the steep staircase to enjoy the view from above; the eye ranges over the city and over the imposing theatre, which can hold 7,000 spectators. Once the visit is over, we return toward the hotel, where some decide to stay; with part of the group I continue, still by coach, to a bazaar where they sell souvenirs, silver and gold jewellery, fabrics, ceramics and Dead Sea products; some of the group, obviously, make purchases.

Once the shopping is done, we return to the hotel, dinner, and this evening I am very careful about the waiters' change; indeed, I pay with all the small coins I have available to avoid other "swindles" like the previous evening. Once dinner is over, since the available spaces are limited, some decide to go to their room to play cards, some try to phone Italy, and I with a small group try to take a little stroll outside the hotel; we take a few steps but given the truly cool temperature, we decide to go back in. I take the opportunity to go to my room and continue reading Petra, which I started the previous evening.

Part One

The alarm is set for 7:00 but I have been awake for a while; I have seen the sun rise over Amman and paint the white houses pink; in the distance the black and threatening clouds are approaching. Breakfast and then, with a truly cold temperature that calls for a light sweater, leaving the hotel before getting on the coach, we carefully check our suitcases. We leave Amman with a temperature of 22 degrees; our destination is the Dead Sea. While we travel, Mohamud, at our request, starts telling us again about Jordan; the health system is national, organised in a series of not very clean clinics where basic care is guaranteed; consequently private treatment is decidedly better. The main hospital treatments are guaranteed by the State, but here too, to be well treated you have to turn to private facilities.

Seeing many people of different ethnicities, we ask what the population living in the country is like; he replies that Jordan is populated by numerous Palestinians who have emigrated, while the manpower is provided by the Egyptians who come here to work because of the extremely favourable exchange rate. While we travel toward our morning destination, we reach the vicinity of the enormous Arabian depression, the depression at the bottom of which lies the Dead Sea. Once we reach zero elevation above sea level, the coach stops and we take the opportunity for a break and to take a few photographs. It is impressive to know that you are at sea level, while you observe below you the immense expanse that appears before your eyes, an endless depression, hundreds of kilometres long and a few tens wide.

During the stop, thanks to Mohamud's directions, we can observe Mount Nebo, which we saw yesterday, the hills of Jerusalem and of Jericho, which we will see today and in the coming days. Descending along the depression we reach the flat bottom and, continuing into a practically desert-like place, where there is no form of life due to the salinity of the water and the intense heat, we arrive on the shores of the Dead Sea; a tourist resort with many well-equipped hotels, and some truly imposing ones are under construction. The main tributary of the Dead Sea used to be the Jordan, but Israel, by building a dam, has interrupted the inflow of fresh water, creating two problems: • the constant increase in salinity; • the reduction of the water present in the sea, which evaporates because of the high temperature.

We stop at a beach facility where it is possible to access the beach; we hire towels and head toward the sea, eager to experience this water which, with its 33% salinity, allows bathers to float. The water is cold, the bottom is made of sharp stones where, in order not to cut yourself (as I did), you have to be careful how you walk; you get wet little by little and the sensation of being in the water is truly unusual — you don't sink!! You float, but straightening up becomes a hard task unless you help yourself with something to hold on to; even swimming on your back requires quite a push to get upright again. While we are in the water, we see people nearby covered in mud; we notice the spot where they extract it from the seabed and decide to go there too to do the mud treatment.

Once there, we realise that the stony bottom has become muddy and, walking on it, we sink in slightly; the sensation of having your feet in warm, soft mud is truly unrepeatable. We take some mud from the bottom and spread it all over our bodies, let it dry, and then, to remove it, a final dip. After an albeit brief treatment, the skin feels smoother and more velvety to the touch; the Dead Sea mud really does have therapeutic properties. While we are doing the mud treatment or bathing, someone has the misfortune to get the water in their eyes; they must get out of the salt water immediately and quickly head to the shower to wash their eyes and avoid the burning. Finally, coming out of the salt water, we immediately take a shower to remove at once the salt that is depositing on the skin and on the swimsuit.

We dry off and then, with Augusto, I take a walk along the beach to collect the salt crystals that are deposited on the water's edge. Once the stop at the sea is over, it is time for lunch; we eat buffet-style, and then, travelling along the Dead Sea, we head toward the border with Israel; along the road we pass fields cultivated with aubergines, cabbages, courgettes, tomatoes, and near the border we find banana and citrus plantations. The irrigation system of the countryside is remarkable, imposing and widespread; bundles of pipes run alongside the carriageway and then spread out into the arid, dry and sunlit countryside, carrying the precious liquid that allows cultivation and life. We arrive at the frontier shortly before 13:30; we must be precise and quick because, due to a festive occasion, the border closes at 14:00.

Mohamud collects the passports with €5 for the exit stamp and then goes to customs to carry out all the procedures required for exit; after some time spent under the desert sun, Mohamud returns with our passports complete with a collective exit visa for leaving Jordan. We say goodbye to Mohamud, who cannot accompany us all the way to the Israeli border, and only with the coach driver we head toward the neutral zone between the two nations.

We travel through a wide desert area, dotted with pillboxes and networks of barbed wire, we cross a dip, we transit over the recently built bridge dedicated to King Hussein of Jordan, and then, after skirting desert hills scattered with military pillboxes, we reach the border with Israel where, near an imposing fence covered with wire netting, we stop for the first check; we pass it and shortly afterwards we arrive at a square; this is the border post where our entry into Israel awaits us. We can get off the coach and collect our luggage, then in single file and with passports in hand, we begin the checks; the luggage is taken by the officers who inspect it, while we queue up to enter customs; the check-in is very strict, nothing metallic gets through at all; I have to remove my jacket, my bum bag and every metal object I am wearing.

When a woman passes through, a detector keeps going off; no one understands why, but the officers are getting a little nervous; after a few attempts the cause is discovered: the metal hair clips. Such strictness I have never seen. We are about to get the entry visa for Israel when at customs they want to stamp all the passports; reading the notes present in the guidebooks, we ask for the visa to be issued as a separate sheet to be attached to the passport — no way, the customs officers are inflexible, every passport must be stamped; Ambrogina and Giorgio try not to have the passport stamped, the head of the officers arrives, an argument ensues, and in the end all the passports are stamped. We discover that an internal regulation means that since the beginning of 2008 all passports must be stamped and the possibility of having a visa to attach to the passport has been removed.

Having a passport stamped by Israel means no longer being able to enter an Arab country except Jordan, and any of us who has to travel, for any reason, to an Arab country will have to get a new passport! Once the passports are stamped we line up in single file to leave, but there is yet another check to pass; Tonina is stopped; there appears to be a numerical discrepancy between the ticket and the stamp; at customs they made a mistake in writing and she has to go back to the customs officers for the necessary correction. Finally, after a long time, we get our suitcases back and co

Part Two

We find a man of about fifty who speaks excellent Italian; his name is Sergio, he is from Turin and has lived in Israel for years; it is a truly strange sensation to have an Italian guide in a foreign country, but certainly a great convenience for understanding the language. After loading our suitcases onto the coach, Sergio explains that we are in Judea on the plain of Samaria, a part of the Asian desert. Jerusalem, today's destination, rises just a few kilometres away, on the edge of the Dead Sea depression; the city has a Mediterranean climate, very cool and breezy. Judea, following political events, has been divided in two; in the western part there are the Israelis, while in the eastern part there are the Muslims (Palestinians), and the whole thing is divided, as we will see later, by enormous, hideous, imposing delimitation walls.

After a short journey, we reach Jerusalem; such a longed-for destination, the final goal of our pilgrimage. The city appears built on several hills, so only in the coming days will I understand exactly the location of the places that are reported in the Bible and that are known, besides for historical events, because they witnessed the passion of Jesus. Travelling along an easy asphalted road we reach the top of a hill where we stop; we get off the coach; we are on the Mount of Olives, and it is the ideal starting point from which to access Jerusalem; you see it from above, you can admire it in all its enchantment.

We begin the tour starting from an octagonal building; we are at the Edicule of the Ascension (I-TCI 115), one of the three places built by St Helena, which are: • The Chapel of the True Cross at the Holy Sepulchre; • The Nativity in Bethlehem; • The Edicule of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives. Set within walled land, the structure, built by the Crusaders, has been remodelled by the Mamluks. At the centre of the building there is a rock with a footprint resembling a foot. By tradition, this is reputed to be the place of Jesus' Ascension. The octagonal structure has a profound symbolic meaning; the eighth is the first day following the week that has passed, which means continuity.

We leave the Edicule of the Ascension and, going down a road, we reach the Basilica of the Sacred Heart with the adjoining cloister of the Our Father (I-TCI 115); inside the building there is a grotto of white limestone, where Jesus taught the disciples the Our Father. The walls of the Monastery and of the Church are adorned with panels bearing the prayer written in very many languages and dialects. Leaving the Basilica we stop in a small square to observe the panorama of the city; Jerusalem is the place where it is said the rock that founded the universe exists: it is the site where Abraham sacrificed his son Isaac. Historically it is a place that was chosen for its constant breeze, ideal for threshing grain. King David founded the city and Solomon enlarged it and had the first Jewish temple erected. When in 586 BC the Persians conquered it, the Jews went into exile and then returned.

On their return they rebuilt the Temple with the Ark of the Covenant; from then on the city had continuous development. In front of us we can admire the imposing and golden dome of the mosque of Qubbet es-Sakhra, also called the mosque of Omar, the place

Part Three

We want to go see the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but we don't know where to go; we have the way explained to us and take an uphill alley, another street, we ask again, they send us back, more alleys in the suq, and finally when we reach the square where one of the two entrances to the church is, they tell us that the entrances are closed in the evening. Quite tired, we head back toward the Damascus Gate; we have walked for over an hour in a fairy-tale atmosphere where the buildings, the shops and the alleys are lit by lamps that make the place truly unique, and where we have no difficulty at all wandering through streets and alleys unknown to us. We return to the hotel and in the lobby we find the usual little group playing burraco, a greeting and then everyone off to bed; tomorrow we set off again toward other destinations.

Part One

The hotel wake-up call doesn't ring; luckily I had set mine on my mobile phone. Before going down for breakfast, I continue organizing my travel diary, then breakfast with unleavened bread, and finally the preparations for departure: guide, camera, bag, water. The meeting point is in the lobby, where all of us gather on time. The first destination of the day is Bethlehem, in Palestine or the West Bank. We approach the border with Palestine and Sergio, who has an Israeli passport, has to get off the bus because he cannot enter Palestine; the blockade and the existing tensions are evident even from things like this. In Palestine we will have another guide. Shortly afterward we reach the border between Israel and Palestine: an enormous, imposing, gloomy concrete wall rises toward the sky and divides the two nations.

The houses that stand nearby have it just a few meters away, if they are not actually adjacent to this impressive gray wall; the barrier is truly immense, equipped with floodlights and topped with an enormous amount of barbed wire, and at regular intervals it has armored watchtowers. The severing of the city produced by this dividing wall is shocking; here we really are in a fortified world. At customs, the checkpoints are bordered by fences covered in barbed wire. We are stopped, we cannot go on, we don't understand why, then we see someone approaching; it's the peace marathon. There are many people with cameras and video cameras; finally the torch arrives with the Olympic flag and with a lot of people following it. We pass through customs and onto the bus climbs our guide for Palestine; he speaks halting Italian and tells us something about his land.

Palestinians currently live in the poorest and most arid part of Judea, while the fertile part, with breeze and water, has been kept by the Israelis; they were given the part facing the Arab depression, the sun-scorched, desert-like and uncultivable part. We stop in a Christian shop to buy handicrafts made of olive wood; some of the items are well made, and there are beautiful and interesting icons. Buying something becomes a form of help for the Christian population, which is practically a minority.

A doubt arises in me: might the wall also be a division of religions? On one side the Jews and on the other the Muslims, with a limited Christian minority? After leaving the shop, we soon reach Bethlehem and stop in a modern parking lot suitable for the bus; we leave the building, walk along a road that winds over the hill and in a short time reach a square where on one side stands the Basilica of the Nativity (I-TCI 241). The church has a curiosity about it: originally the entrance was wide, then the Crusaders narrowed it so that only people on horseback could enter, and finally the entrance door was made smaller so that only people on foot could enter; and since the door is so low, you have to bend down to avoid hitting your head.

A sign of respect for the holy place, or just a defense? In the Orthodox church, whose interior is dark and neglected, with beautiful mosaics on the floor, there is great confusion and disorder, and there is a big crowd because of the people present; a religious ceremony is underway and the altar is full of people. Anyone who wants to go see the grotto of the Nativity must line up according to the instructions of the Orthodox priests, who appear very disorganized and often change the arrangements. To reach the star of the Nativity, you enter from the side of the altar; I can observe the ongoing service, besides an excessive use of incense and candles, during the function bread is distributed. Finally, after much pushing and some arguing with the popes (the Orthodox priests), we manage to reach the grotto of the Nativity. At the spot where Jesus was born there is a star.

I take a few photos and then, because of the great crush, we have to leave. We go to the nearby Church of Saint Catherine and in a side chapel a Holy Mass is underway with Gregorian chants dating back to Saint Ambrose; Don Maurizio, being a great lover of music, immediately understands the beauty and evocativeness of the chant. We leave the Church of the Nativity and wander a bit around Bethlehem; here all the houses have large and sturdy iron grilles on their windows. We leave central Bethlehem and head by bus to the outskirts, to the Field of the Shepherds, where a modern and pretty church adorned with frescoes stands. A short distance away there is a grotto, now transformed into a church; legend has it that the shepherds who visited Jesus stayed here. Indeed, because of their shape, these grottoes were and are used by shepherds to shelter animals during the night.

The vault of the grotto appears completely blackened by the smoke of fires lit in the past and of the candles that burn today in the little church. Leaving the grotto, we walk along the hill covered with pines and cypresses; the scent of resin given off by the plants fills the lungs with fresh, pleasant air to breathe. We get back on the bus, drive along the road toward the border and pass near the enormous separation wall between the two states, which appears in all its tragic display. Finally we stop for the lunch break; the place is partially decorated for a wedding, the preparations for the decorations are underway and we can sit in a wing of the restaurant not yet decorated. Vegetables, chicken, fish, rice, pasta with a vegetable sauce and leavened bread; indeed, since we are in Palestine, the week of Jewish Passover is not observed.

While I eat lunch I think that Jerusalem, a city today divided by this immense and useless concrete wall, but which until a few years ago was all one, is truly a cosmopolitan city. And while I eat the leavened bread I think that although these are the days of Jewish Passover, fresh bread is easily available in the shops of the Muslim and Christian quarter. After lunch we head toward the border and pass through a valley area where construction of the imposing wall has been suspended and there are "only" fences and a border station. The checks are meticulous, but since it is a tourist bus we can cross into Israel fairly quickly. Here we meet Sergio again, who waited for us during our visit to Palestine. We head to the suburbs of Jerusalem, reach a hilly area and stop at the foot of a hill; we are at Ein Kerem (I-TCI 82).

At the foot of the hill there are houses and a fountain whose water is very cool; since this is a limestone area, the water is collected and channeled into these ancient non-spring fountains. The area is particularly striking from a scenic point of view; Sergio says that this is the typical landscape of the land of Judea, where the Israelites arrived at the end of their exodus that lasted fully 40 years. What they found was the promised land, the land flowing with milk and honey; indeed the milk came from goats and the honey came from dates. In this very sunny but fertile land, oats were and are cultivated, the bread for animals; wheat, the bread for men; the pomegranate, which requires a lot of water; the fig, the olive and the grape for excellent wine, as well as palms that produce dates unique in goodness and sweetness.

On foot, under the scorching sun, along a paved road with steps, we climb the hill and at the top we reach an iron gate that gives access to the Church of the Visitation (I-TCI 82). In the courtyard adjacent to the church there are terracotta tiles hung on the perimeter wall, containing

Part Two

We are about to enter the lower church when Fernanda recognizes a person, calls him by his surname and he turns around; it is Zorzi, a well-known Italian basketball player. The basketball player stops to chat with us for a bit, and then, after greeting us, each of us resumes his own tour; finding Italians always pleases you when you are in a foreign land. We enter the lower part of the building, which has mosaics, and in a grotto there is an ancient well, now disused since the water has been diverted to feed the fountain we observed at the bottom of the hill. The upper church is modern, built in Tuscan style, the native region of the Franciscan architect Antonio Barluzzi (the same one who designed the Church of the Shepherds), whose interior walls are covered with frescoes and in one appears a figure with the face of Father Barluzzi.

After a group from an Eastern European country finishes praying, Franco takes his place at the organ and plays the Ave Maria; the group of Italians accompanies him in song. It is a truly evocative moment, engaging, rich in religiosity and emotion. We leave the church, go back down the hill and, crossing this village, arrive at the Sanctuary of Saint John the Baptist (I-TCI 82). Here in the courtyard, hanging on the wall, we find terracotta tiles with the prayer of the Benedictus. In the church there is a crypt which legend says is the place of the birth of Saint John the Baptist. I take a few photos of the crypt and then go out to get back on the bus. On our way back to Jerusalem we stop on a hill to see the Israeli Parliament, where, facing the entrance, there is the bronze Menorah (I-TCI p.

81), the sacred candelabrum for the Jews that reproduces the one present in the Temple which, taken by the Romans as spoils of war, was brought to Rome, and the event is depicted on the Arch of Titus in Rome. The candelabrum has seven branches, where seven represents the number of perfection and also the days of the week, of which Saturday is the central branch. Here we stop for souvenir photos. We resume the tour and approach the historic part of the city; we drive along the road that runs beneath the ancient and mighty white limestone walls and, once we reach a parking area, we stop. We get off the bus and on foot pass through an entrance gate to the city. We are about to enter the area where the Wailing Wall stands. The checks are strict; we line up single file and one at a time pass under the metal detector to access the plaza.

The Wailing Wall, named so because Jews weep for the place where Solomon's Temple stood, destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD (whose destruction of Jerusalem Jesus wept over), is preceded by a large plaza, divided into two parts, the right part reserved for women and the left part reserved for men. The women enter their area, while with Sergio we enter the men's area, where I can observe the people arriving; it is mandatory to have one's head covered with a hat or the "kippah," that is, the classic head covering, in various colors, generally of cotton, which covers the occipital region of the head, used by Jews and often held to the hair with a clip. For those who do not have their head covered, at the entrance to the Wailing Wall esplanade there are disposable paper kippahs to put on.

We enter the area which, on the occasion of the Passover festival, is particularly equipped with tables covered with a velvety fabric that reproduces the image of the destroyed Temple. Walking alongside the tables, we reach the vicinity of the Wailing Wall, where there are worshippers in prayer; Sergio heads toward a tunnel that opens to the left of the Wall and we enter it: inside there are cabinets with many books; the faithful enter, take a book, sit near the wall and immerse themselves in reading. In the room there are scrolls of sheepskin written by hand that anyone can consult. These delicate scrolls are read through a protective glass; the scroll, wound on wooden rollers, is unrolled for reading and then rolled back up.

Sergio explains to us that for Jews the study of the Word is more important than work; everyone must devote much time of his life to the careful study of the sacred books; for this reason, here there are a great many volumes available to anyone who wants to read them. I take advantage of the calm and the concentration of the faithful to take a few photographs; I am in a truly unique place, where a special and unrepeatable atmosphere reigns. The Wailing Wall is made of stone blocks and among the blocks it is customary to place little notes with prayers or intercessions; there are a great many of them. Sergio points out the spot where John Paul II, on pilgrimage, placed his note. He also explains that periodically the wall is cleaned of the notes present and they are put in a bag, which is buried as if it were a person.

At 6:30 pm the siren sounds, recalling the ancient sound of the horn, indicating the beginning of the Sabbath festival. From this moment it is forbidden to perform any work; it is forbidden to take photographs and also to take notes; indeed, while I inadvertently am about to write, I am promptly "invited" to put away my Moleskine and pen by a guard present in the plaza. Through the entrances, a great many faithful pour into the plaza, wearing festive clothes or black overcoats or Western clothes; all have their heads covered: some with the kippah, some with turbans, some with astrakhan hats (indicating origin from Eastern European regions), and all go to pray in front of and/or leaning against the Wailing Wall.

Prayer takes place in a particular way; the faithful approaches the wall praying and continually rocks (forward and backward) the upper part of the body; it is astonishing to be able to observe such deep religiosity. We leave the plaza of the Wailing Wall and, passing through checkpoints, enter the adjacent suq. Walking along one of the two main streets of the old part of the city, we soon find ourselves at the Damascus Gate; it is incredible how, unlike the other evening when we wandered so much, today following Sergio we cross the entire city in a short time. We return to the hotel at past 7:30 pm, shower and then dinner; here I find unleavened bread again and the food is identical to that of the previous evening. After dinner passes in the hotel with chatting and card games.

Part One

Wake-up at 7:00; at breakfast I realize it is the Saturday of Jewish Passover; no food is cooked, everything is accompanied by the usual unleavened bread. At 8:15 we set off for Mount Zion, located on the outskirts of Jerusalem. On the mount stands a Jewish neighborhood built in 1948 when the state of Israel was established; the neighborhood was renovated in 1966, and today it appears very dense, with magnificent views over the city and among the houses of the neighborhood itself. As we walk, in the air you can smell the fragrance of freshly baked bread, but if we are on the Saturday of Jewish Passover? We head toward the shop and find the baker baking bread; being an Arab, he does not celebrate the holiday, so he is working normally. A good reason to buy and taste fresh bread.

Wandering around Mount Zion we find part of the walls dating back to 700 BC, built by Hezekiah; this is the only point where the ancient walls of the city are visible. Continuing the tour we reach the Armenian quarter, where we visit the Cathedral of Saint James (I-TCI 94) of the Armenian/Orthodox Patriarchate. Passing through the entrance door we enter the Court of the Patriarchs and then reach the church; the main portal is protected by a cloth; after moving it aside, we can enter the church, where a religious function is underway. We place ourselves in a corner of the church and watch the celebration; we see the Patriarch, all bedecked, with a crown on his head, conducting the liturgy, and the prayer sung in Armenian sounds very close to Hebrew.

The structure of the church, starting from the floor, appears with beautiful white and blue ceramics; on the walls are hung paintings with gilded wooden frames; the vault appears gray and dirty, the work of the smoke of the dozens of candles that are perpetually lit. While I observe the architecture of the church, the religious function continues; there are clerics wearing a reddish vestment, while the religious wear a black tunic with a wrapping headpiece from which only the face emerges. Leaving the cathedral, we continue on foot through the city and arrive at the Church of the Dormition of Mary (I-TCI 119), a place where the differences among the various religions are most evident; for Christians this is the place where Mary's dormition occurred, while for the Orthodox, here the assumption of Mary's soul occurred.

The structure is maintained by Austrian and German Franciscans, and the Teutonic influence can be seen not only in the rigor of the environment but also in the imposing organ present in the church. After visiting the church and the crypt with the statue of Mary Dormant, we leave the complex and head toward the Cenacle (I-TCI 119), the place of the Last Supper and of the appearance of Jesus at Pentecost. The current structure is divided into two parts: we enter the upper one; here originally there was a Byzantine basilica that was destroyed, then rebuilt by the Crusaders with building material found on site; today the Gothic ceiling stands out very clearly. Over the centuries and under various dominions the church was transformed into a mosque, and the Mihrab is clearly visible.

Sergio tells us about the Jewish rite of breaking bread, which follows a precise ritual: • one recites "Blessed are You, Lord, who gives us bread, fruit of the earth," one takes the bread, breaks it, adds salt and eats it; • then one continues reciting "Blessed are You, Lord, who gives us the fruit of the vine," one takes the bread, dips it in the wine and eats it. While I listen to Sergio, a reflection comes spontaneously to me: today is the Saturday of Jewish Passover and we find ourselves in the Holy Places; will it be a coincidence? We leave the upper part and enter the lower one, where we find a place sacred to Orthodox Jews; here is the tomb of King David, who was buried in the ancient part of Jerusalem, as described in the Bible.

In this place, access is allowed exclusively to men, and only with their heads covered can they visit the tomb; here too I find people in prayer, reading and/or studying the sacred books. Leaving the Cenacle, as we head toward the bus, we find a vendor of sweets made with dried fruit; if it is true that the eye wants its part, the palate surely demands the other. The stall is stormed by the Italians, who do not want to miss out on these delicacies. Heading toward the parking lot, we can admire the panorama over the old city, where the golden roof of the Mosque of Omar shines.

Then by bus we go to the Church of Saint Peter in Gallicantu (I-TCI 119), and here, as we approach the church, Franca meets a group of Italians; they are acquaintances of hers, in fact one is a relative of hers originally from Rovello who moved some time ago to Lainate, a small town near Milan; the world is truly small sometimes!! The church stands where the house of Caiaphas, the high priest, was, where Jesus was brought to be questioned and where, in a cistern we visited, Jesus spent the night after his arrest. This is also the place of Peter's denial ("before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times") and from this comes the name "Gallicantu"; here we stop to recite a Psalm. After visiting the structure, getting back on the bus we head toward Jericho in Palestine. During the journey Sergio shows us a DVD and a book he has on consignment.

The DVD illustrates the places in Israel that witnessed the life of Jesus, while the book (an Israeli edition written in Italian) illustrates the life of Jerusalem in Roman times, a very instructive edition for understanding daily life at that time. Arriving near the border with Palestine, as happened yesterday, Sergio gets off and we continue with the driver toward Jericho (I-TCI 226). We cross a stretch of desert and then arrive at an oasis of palms; it is beautiful to see so much green in the middle of the desert, and continuing in the shade of the trees we reach what is the oldest city in the world, which, built near a spring, became a very important center.

The great abundance of water and the fertility of the soil contributed to its being named the "city of palms." We reach the restaurant, where we are welcomed with a tasting of dried sycamore fruits and sweet, fleshy dates, a true idyll for the palate, and I understand the "honey" of the people of Israel. Lunch is self-service; the food is decidedly good and carefully prepared; the French fries and pizza are a success. We are offered a bottle of white wine; it is a bold and tasty wine produced and bottled in Bethlehem. After lunch I take a walk in the bazaar adjacent to the restaurant and among many souvenirs I spot some fine publications with drawings made by English artists in the 19th century depicting Petra and the Arab world, but because of the size of the publications and their weight, knowing that my suitcase is full, I give up buying them.

I leave the restaurant and in the hotel forecourt there are stalls where I buy dates and sycamore fruits to take home. After the lunch break is over, we set off again toward the border, where Sergio is waiting for us, and then we head toward the desert, in the Dead Sea depression, with Qumran as our destination (I-TCI 224). The site stands in the middle of the desert on the shores of the Dead Sea, 20 km from Jericho; it became famous in 1947 for the discovery of the "Dead Sea Scrolls," manuscripts dating back to the 1st century BC that are of great interest for the study of the Bible. The scrolls, written on tanned sheepskin, kept in sealed amphorae, were preserved for so long because of the lack of humidity in the place; they were

Part Two

Brought back to light, for a long time no importance was given to them, until the creation of the state of Israel, which managed to buy them. Today they are visible in a specially built climate-controlled structure in Jerusalem. The scrolls found in the cylindrical jars were wrapped in linen, written on parchment with ink made from coal dust, and contain the first translation into Greek of the Hebrew Bible, the ancient version of the Bible used by the Samaritans, the Psalms of the New Covenant and a book of Job written in Aramaic. These texts were written by the Essenes, a group of mystics who left Jerusalem during the Maccabean era, around the 2nd century BC; the site was later destroyed by the Romans in the 1st century AD.

In the archaeological site today the cisterns for collecting water are visible, along with a few other structures situated on red limestone rock, where, in the presence of torrential rains, it was important to have a system of channeling and collecting the precious liquid. While we walk among the ancient ruins, I see another group appear; they too are Italians and are accompanied by a priest, a Passionist. I approach him and ask if he knows Father Pippo, a family friend who was in Jerusalem for years; the father introduces himself: he is Father Gianni, a close friend of Father Pippo, to whom, once back in Italy, I will bring his greetings. Father Gianni teaches in Jerusalem at a Franciscan school and in his free time, when he can, works as a tour guide. I introduce Father Gianni to Sergio; knowing Italians and having contacts in a foreign land is always useful.

On the way back, Sergio points out some greenhouses that rise in the middle of the desert and explains that here, using the brackish water present in the aquifers, they are beginning to cultivate vegetables, fruit and greens; a possibility for being able to live in this inhospitable, desert-like and salty area. On the way back we stop in the village of Bethany (I-TCI 116), situated on the extreme eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives, and here we visit the church of the tomb of Lazarus, also built by Father Antonio Barluzzi with a particular stone that gives it a delicate pinkish color. The church is open and we decide to go see it; as soon as we enter, a Franciscan friar unexpectedly starts shouting; since there is an Italian monsignor celebrating Holy Mass, he demands that no one enter during the function.

A squabble ensues with the calm and reasonable Sergio, but this stubborn Franciscan does not want to listen to reason and shouts in an unbelievable way and without any logical argument. Leaving the church, we are all very annoyed by the immature and childish behavior of this person who truly embodies the popular saying: "give an ignoramus a railway worker's cap and he thinks he's the stationmaster." A short distance from the church we see a sign indicating the tomb of Lazarus; although historically it has never been found, we ask for information and are told that it is a tomb dating back to the Roman period, so it could similarly be the tomb of Jesus' friend. We pay the entrance fee and, going down a staircase carved into the rock of the mountain, we reach what was once a sepulcher.

Coming back to the surface, by bus we return to the hotel; it is around 6:00 pm and at 7:30 pm dinner is served; the menu is a repeat of the previous two evenings, imagination in the kitchen is absent. For after dinner Sergio has organized an evening sightseeing tour of the city's suburbs; we leave the hotel and, driving along the ancient walls, head toward the Mount of Olives, and the first stop we make is the panoramic square from which we can have an enchanting view of Jerusalem at night; thousands of lights illuminate the hill, the old part emerges, the walls, the Mosque of Omar, the Temple esplanade are all clearly illuminated.

What better occasion to set up the tripod and take nighttime photos? The tour continues, returning beneath the walls, passing through the ancient gate that led to the Temple, passing near the "dung gate" (the gate where the city's refuse was removed); we drive along the ancient walls up to a fork, where we take a road leading toward the modern part of the city. We make a stop to visit the "King Hotel," the most beautiful hotel in the city and one of the most luxurious in the world, a place where heads of state and great personalities stay. Then we continue the tour by visiting the Y.M.C.A. hotel (I-TCI 78), where we enter to observe the Crusader-style architecture; built in 1933, from its tower one enjoys a stupendous view over Jerusalem and the surrounding region, with a view reaching as far as the Dead Sea.

Afterward we take a short walk in the new quarter, where we are greeted by the scent given off by flowering oleanders and jasmines. At one point, Sergio points out a church bell tower that depicts Kaiser Wilhelm; a truly singular reproduction, visible only by moonlight. Then he takes us to see other views of Jerusalem, the old walls, some gardens, little alleys among the houses where it is evocative to walk among the flowering pots, among the lit lights of the houses, among the smell of food; the celebrations of Jewish Passover are about to begin. We leave this area and head toward another part of the quarter where a lit windmill stands; then, getting back on the bus, we return to the hotel with the view of enchanting nighttime Jerusalem in our eyes. Shortly before 11:00 pm we go to sleep.

Part One

Wake-up at 7:00. Today is Sunday and it's Passover, and as tradition dictates, breakfast without cooked food and with unleavened bread. At 8:15 we're ready for the planned tour of Jerusalem; today we'll be walking a lot through the alleys, through the narrow streets of this fascinating and cosmopolitan city. I begin the day with great emotion and curiosity for what we will see; I'm fascinated by the golden dome of the Mosque of Omar, by the Temple Mount and by the Holy Sepulchre, destinations I have longed for. But above all, thinking of the beauty of the Madaba mosaic, being able to walk again through the alleys, the hills and find the landmarks faithfully reproduced on the ancient mosaic. Once on the bus we set off and, after passing the Kidron Valley, we stop beneath the ancient walls and head toward the entrance leading to the Temple Mount (I-TCI 100).

Access to the esplanade is from the square of the Western Wall, where we can see very many worshippers praying near the Western Wall, some aided by the tables we saw on previous days. On the tables are placed containers holding the prayer scrolls, which, as already described, are read by turning the wooden handles. After the usual, ritual and strict checks, we enter the Temple Mount. The site is linked to very important episodes of the Christian and Muslim religions; in fact, here took place: • the sacrifice of Isaac; • the appearance of the angel to David; • the Prophet's night journey. As for the origin of the Temple, there are no archaeological sources other than the Bible. Here, around 1,000 BC, David had the Ark of the Covenant brought, and a few decades later Solomon had the first Temple erected.

A vast space within which stood the Temple proper, rectangular and divided into three zones: vestibule, Holy Place and Holy of Holies. The latter building was a cubic hall covered in gold and housed the Ark of the Covenant. A little way off stood a gigantic bronze altar reserved for sacrifices. The Temple stood until the invasion of Nebuchadnezzar (586 BC). The Jews who returned to their homeland built a second Temple (around 500 BC), which, although poorer than the previous one, followed the layout of Solomon's. In the Holy Place were placed an altar-incense burner, the table of the showbread and the menorah; the Holy of Holies was empty, in remembrance of the Ark of the Covenant, which disappeared in the destruction of the first Temple. In 20 BC Herod, for political prestige, decided to completely renovate the Temple.

Completed in 64 AD, it had pharaonic dimensions; it defined the current structure of the esplanade, had a difference in level of over 50 metres and was surrounded by underground halls. Trapezoidal in shape, encircled by mighty walls, it had the north-west corner adjacent to the Antonia Fortress, from where the Roman garrison could control the crowd. Inside, the Court of the Gentiles was accessible to all; but only purified Jews could enter the Temple. It appeared as a fortress bounded by an imposing wall, within which were two courtyards; one was the area for women and the other was reserved for men and priests, then the Sanctuary, divided into three sections completely covered in gold: vestibule, Holy Place and Holy of Holies.

In 70 AD, at the end of the First Jewish War, the structure was destroyed by the Romans; since then the Jews no longer have their Temple, and they are also forbidden access to the area since it is a sacred place that has been desecrated. Once the Temple was destroyed, the Romans erected a temple to Jupiter, which was later demolished by Constantine. In 638 the Caliph Omar went up onto the esplanade to pray on the rock of Isaac's sacrifice. He had the hill cleared of debris and built a small mosque. Later the two mosques currently existing were built, and the Mosque of Omar was erected on the spot where tradition holds that Muhammad, on his winged mare Burak, one night flew here, awaited by Abraham, Moses and Jesus, and from here ascended to heaven.

The most important mosque for Muslims is the Al-Aqsa Mosque, while the best-known mosque is the Qubbet es-Sakhra, the Dome of the Rock, more improperly called the "Mosque of Omar". This building is a precious jewel of Arab architecture. It has a trapezoidal base, which one enters by passing under four arches, where at the end of the world the sins and merits of men will be weighed on scales hung from these porticoes. The structure of the mosque is octagonal with four doors facing the cardinal points. During the period of the Crusaders, this mosque was turned into a church under the name "Templum Domini", and from here the knightly order of the Templars originated.

Adjacent to the mosques is the purification fountain used for ablutions; the Muslim ritual requires the washing of the feet, the armpits and the area behind the ears before entering the mosque: known as the sacredness of water, a symbol of purification, here it is exalted.

We wander around the esplanade — what better place for photos of the group, the architecture and the beautiful, colourful Arab art? Finally, photos with the mosque in the background, with the panorama of Jerusalem, and then we leave the place, exiting through the gate that leads us into the cotton market; a long covered corridor that in ancient times was the cotton market and is now a piece of the suq where only a few stalls have kept their original character unchanged. From here, through a checkpoint, we reach the square of the Western Wall; the place is crowded with worshippers at prayer; remembering that for Jews it is a holiday, so no work activity must be done, I leave my notebook and camera where they are. We exit through the gate and, walking along the walls anticlockwise, we pass in front of some archaeological excavations where the ancient entrance to the Temple stood.

We are in the Kidron Valley and on the valley floor, carved into the rock, there are four mammoth funerary monuments: the tomb of Jehoshaphat, that of Absalom, that of Bnei Hezir and that of Zechariah. We are right in front of the Mount of Olives and by now, after a few days' stay, I can identify well the Garden of Gethsemane, the Jewish cemetery, the Dominus Flevit, the Edicule of the Ascension. We continue walking along the walls anticlockwise until we spot an entrance gate; we are at the eastern entrance of the city: the Lions' Gate, so called because of the statues on the façade of the gate. We pass through the gate and, after a few metres, we reach the Church of Saint Anne (I-TCI 107); it is the best-preserved Crusader church, considered the most beautiful church in the city; it has perfect acoustics.

Adjacent to the church are archaeological excavations, where one can admire the remains of the ancient Romanesque Pool of Bethesda; in this place Jesus healed the lame man. Next to the pool one can see the remains of a Byzantine church that in ancient times covered the whole site. A short distance from the Church of Saint Anne we visit the Franciscan Convent of the Flagellation; originally here was the Hagora, the common square facing the Antonia Fortress. On the spot where the crown of thorns was placed on Jesus' head, today stands the "Chapel of the Flagellation". From this point begins the Via Dolorosa, a route dotted with stations that retraces the Way of the Cross; it is the road Jesus walked to Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion.

The first station is included within a Muslim school and is accessible only on Fridays, on the occasion of the procession that the Franciscans weekly...

Part Two

The Way of the Cross winds through the Arab market; here and there on the walls of the houses is the cross indicating a station; people walk, people pray; the pilgrims walk the Via Dolorosa, amidst the market from which come the aromas of food, where you see shops of every kind, but all with the greatest respect for people and religions. At a certain point Sergio leaves the road and invites us to enter a building; it is a hotel run by German-speaking Franciscan friars; we go up to the roof and from here we can admire a particular panorama of the city. We go back down to the street and quickly reach the eighth station, which was placed where in Jesus' time the city walls ended; the ninth station is located where at midday the bells ring in celebration.

Continuing along the Way of the Cross, we arrive at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and here, the greatest site of the Christian religion, is full of historical contradictions. Its management is entrusted to various religious factions — Orthodox, Armenian Orthodox, Christians. A melting pot of jurisdictions and representatives that over the centuries has seen considerable and bloody quarrels. To avoid yet more disputes, the opening and closing of the gates giving access to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is entrusted to two Muslim families, one opens and the other closes the gates at well-established times. To access the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (I-TCI 109) we pass through the Orthodox Church of Saint Michael, which, situated to the side of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, allows one to reach the courtyard without passing through the side gates.

Entering the temple, we immediately climb a steep staircase to the right of the entrance; the staircase rises, turning on itself, and soon brings us to Golgotha. The place is very crowded; I can barely take photos; there is an enormous queue to access the point where the cross was placed. While some of the group are queuing, noises come from the church below; it is an Orthodox procession. Sergio informs us that today is a special day: it is the coincidence of Passover and Orthodox Easter. From above we admire the procession presided over by the Patriarch; a disorderly procession, where the clerics with banners or candelabras move about chaotically, chatting among themselves.

This procession unexpectedly creates a positive side: there are few people on Golgotha, so I take advantage and queue up too, and within a few minutes I am at the place of the crucifixion, which, located beneath an altar, can only be touched by kneeling and putting one's hand into the hole of the star there. Given the small number of people, I start taking photographs, seeking the best compositions and also making use of the faint light created by the candles, when voices and shouts come from the church below. What's happening? Being near the balcony, I lean over and see, near the Holy Sepulchre, banners falling, candelabras used as swords, people running, screaming, terrified tourists fleeing the church... but what's happening? I can't understand it. An attack? A brawl? A sudden illness?...

while I'm trying to grasp what is happening, suddenly the entrance door is flung open; a detachment of Jewish officers in riot gear enters and, using their batons, makes their way through the crowd and heads quickly toward the Holy Sepulchre. I am stunned by such an episode, especially because I am in a place that should be regarded with the utmost respect. During the procession there were tensions between the Orthodox and some other group, then it all degenerated into a furious scuffle, "calmed" properly by the sudden intervention of the police, who with baton blows brought the contenders back to reason. Once the dispute was over, calm returned to the church, and since so many people had fled in terror, we decide to continue our tour inside the immense religious complex.

Going down from Golgotha, we head to an Orthodox church located on a lower level; through the Chapel of Saint Helena, which features beautiful mosaics and Crusader capitals, we can access the place of the Holy Cross, built by the saint. Then, continuing through the immense church, we arrive at the Holy Sepulchre; an edicule containing the Tomb where the body of Jesus was buried. There are a great many people in line and only four people enter at a time; entry and length of stay are controlled by some Orthodox priests. Given the time, we decide to skip the visit to the interior and go to lunch.

Lunch takes place in a Lebanese restaurant, where, among other things, we enjoy excellent lamb rolls, and here we are joined by staff from the agency who present us with a gift; they also give us the "pilgrim's certificate for Jerusalem", and finally Sergio writes our names in Hebrew on the certificates. The afternoon continues with a visit to the Franciscan Church of the Cenacle, which features a modern bronze sculpture of the Last Supper; here in a chapel we sanctify the Sunday. The tour continues with a visit to some public gardens from which, among broom, mallow, olive trees, rosemary and lavender, there is an enchanting view of the southern part of Jerusalem, another opportunity to capture the city.

We set off by bus back to the hotel, and since the programme includes nothing else, three options are decided: • return to the hotel by bus; • the possibility of going to have ice cream; • return on foot, strolling through the old city. I opt for the third solution and, with Natalia, we plunge into the suq and start wandering through it, observing the various shops present; at a certain point, crossing the Via Dolorosa, the idea strikes us to go to the Holy Sepulchre.

Within a few minutes we are in the church, which is half-empty, and only around the Holy Sepulchre is there a line of people; I take the opportunity to capture details of the church's interior; I can clearly see the edicule of the Holy Sepulchre, the Stone of Unction where the bodies of those who died on the cross were placed, the side churches where religious services were taking place, the great and very colourful central ceiling. Then, on our way out, we wander through the suq built by the Arabs, making purchases and observing moments of daily life. To see Jerusalem today is to admire a modern city that extends seamlessly over several hills, but what must it have looked like in Jesus' time? Which streets did Jesus walk? Where were the buildings mentioned in the Bible located? Questions I asked myself and that only through careful research have I managed to unravel.

In Jesus' time, Jerusalem appeared as a fortified Roman city, entered only through entrance and exit gates. Inside, a main street crossed almost its entire length, and there were numerous dwellings with gardens. Pools were present in many places; the use of water and baths was a characteristic of the era. The major buildings were Herod's Palace, the political centre of the city. The Antonia Fortress, located to the north, occupied an area of 7,000 square metres and was far from being a classic Spartan barracks; it contained luxurious apartments and baths within, as well as military equipment. But the largest, most imposing and majestic building was the Temple; the sacred place par excellence, where sacrifices were offered to God in its courts.

Among the numerous rules governing ritual sacrifice, the beast to be sacrificed must be a domestic animal, suitable for food, without defects, and owned by the person offering it. In front of the Nicanor Gate, pilgrims awaited the opening to access the Court of the Israelites.

Part Three

From there, they could observe the complete ritual of the sacrifice, watch the priests in charge burn incense on the golden altar, make their entrance into the Sanctuary, and smell the legendary fragrance of incense. Within the Temple enclosure stood the Sanhedrin, the council of sages made up of 71 members; it constituted the highest political, religious and judicial authority of the Jewish people, composed of two factions: the Pharisees and the Sadducees. Outside the city walls is Golgotha, the place where crucifixions took place. All around the fortified city were villages made up of houses with courtyards, areas for people and for animals, and for most of the year daily life took place in the open air, in the courtyards and on the flat rooftops of the houses. Each village was surrounded by fields cultivated with wheat, vines, cotton, and by olive groves.

In the villages there were houses of farmers, of shepherds, the oil press, the blacksmith, the carpenter, the weaver, the mill and the Synagogue, the "house of assembly"; the place of religious worship is usually the largest building in the whole village. We return to the hotel; a nice shower is really needed to wash away the tiredness of the day, and then dinner. Dinner is a carbon copy of the previous ones. Given the day's walking, the time after dinner passes with chatting and the inevitable card game. Talking with someone in the group, we decide to go to the Holy Sepulchre the next morning, very early.

Part One

The mobile phone rings at 5:15; at 5:30 the meeting is scheduled in the hotel lobby; we intrepid ones are all punctual and set off headed for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. By now we know the way; in a short time we reach the Damascus Gate, walking through the alleys of the old city, and quickly arrive at the entrance gate of the church, which is open; thus we enter the religious building a few minutes before 6:00. The interior is half-deserted, some inner churches are still closed, and so we head straight for the Holy Sepulchre, where we already find a line; they are worshippers waiting to be able to enter the Holy Sepulchre. For some time now the Holy Masses have been booked; access is granted to small groups in order of priority. We reach the Holy Sepulchre and are observing the dynamics of access when the door opens, one group comes out and another is going in.

Some of us mingle with the group of strangers and we, in a completely chance way, manage to enter to attend Holy Mass. The structure of the Holy Sepulchre consists of two distinct spaces; a chapel and then, through a small door, one enters what is the Holy Sepulchre, that is, what remains of it given the predatory actions carried out over past centuries. We find ourselves with a group of Germans, and the Holy Mass is obviously in German; they are a little astonished at our presence, but since we are calm the Mass is celebrated without any problem. At 6:25 the heavy wooden door of the Holy Sepulchre is opened brusquely; the Franciscan friar guarding the building, with brutal and impertinent violence, brings the Holy Mass to an end and literally forcibly prevents those inside the chapel from accessing the Holy Sepulchre.

Religious man? Bouncer? I really wouldn't know how to define the Franciscan; he is certainly not a fine example of tolerance and Christian charity. Such behaviour certainly does not encourage or stimulate faith; quite the opposite! Disgusted by such conduct, I leave the Holy Sepulchre, start wandering around the now-open church and devote myself to photos. Those who maintain that these historical complexes should be transformed into enormous museums, visitable by all, following a well-established route, are absolutely right; while religious celebrations should take place only in other places.

We leave the church and wander through ancient Jerusalem, where the alleys are filling with merchants restocking their shops; there are a great many vans transporting all sorts of merchandise, vehicles that during the daytime hours I have never seen, at most I had noticed carts and donkeys loaded with goods moving about. Given the favourable hour, we decide to visit the square of the Western Wall. Tonina and I, armed with good spirits, set off through the narrow alleys of the old city, and before reaching the checkpoints we find a little lane that leads us to a small square where we can observe, from a unique and privileged position, the Western Wall square below and the Temple Mount above.

Captivated by such beauty, we decide to go down to the square, but before entering we must pass the strict police checks; nothing gets past the metal detector check; to pass I have to take off my backpack and my jacket, which, having metal zips, sets off the precise detector, and, as in all previous checks, both the backpack and the jacket are carefully searched. After the check we enter the square, where we see very many worshippers praying, and at this hour it seems that the religiosity is greater than what we saw earlier; I look at my watch, it's 7:10, and the place is full of worshippers.

In the silence of the morning, where the only tourists are Tonina and me, from the Western Wall come silence, prayers and the singing of the worshippers who, dressed in black and with their head coverings, are praying; it is a unique sensation to experience and hard to describe, for the religiosity one feels. We remain silent, admiring so much faith, and then, given the approach of breakfast time and the appointment with the others in the group, we decide to leave the place and head for the hotel.

We leave the square, passing through the checkpoint, then plunge into the suq, where we find many shops opening, the supply vans completing their work; wandering in the Arab quarter, we savour the smell of fresh bread baking in the ovens, and in one we stop to watch a baker making bread; his work, mingled with the fragrance of fresh bread, blended with the tolerance and uniqueness of the city, creates a vivid image that I carry with me as I return to the hotel. We reach the Damascus Gate just as the sun, having just risen, illuminates it with its rays; the stone of the walls is taking on a warm colour that I interpret as a greeting and at the same time as an ardent invitation to return to this wonderful, unique, cosmopolitan city, which, despite its contradictions and conflicts, remains, in my humble opinion, a city without equal for the charm it gives off.

We return to the hotel in time for a shower, then breakfast, and finally packing the suitcases for departure. At 9:15 the meeting is scheduled in the hotel lobby; the suitcases must be prepared for airport boarding, so they must be carefully arranged and only a little merchandise can remain in the hand luggage. We load the luggage onto the bus and, before leaving this enchanting city, Sergio, since we are extremely punctual, takes us to the square of the Mount of Olives for a last view of the city, which, lit by the morning sun, appears in a completely new light, where the limestone rock of the walls is tinged with rosy colours. A few souvenir photos and then we set off for Tel Aviv; leaving Jerusalem we pass through gentle, green hills, and as the bus moves quickly along the road, the gaze is lost in the colours of the cultivated fields.

I reflect on the fact that here everything is luxuriant, and after a few kilometres, as soon as the Arab depression begins, everything turns to desert. We arrive at the airport, where the checks are extremely strict; we are about to enter the facility and Augusto is stopped and asked for his passport; because of his dark complexion he has been mistaken for an Arab and therefore checked. I am in line when a female soldier passes by for the passport check; I hand it over, and she, seeing it a little damaged in the binding, and bearing a photo from the days when I had a beard and looked like an Arab, asks me for another document for a further check. Now we are at the suitcase inspection; the suitcases, placed in an optical reader, are analysed by the machine, which decides whether they can be boarded directly or must go to manual inspection.

Most of the suitcases are subjected to manual inspection; here the checks are truly extremely strict. Time passes and the checks continue; every suitcase is opened and meticulously examined; someone has gone to do the check-in, informing them that most of the baggage is being checked; they are certainly used to this wait. Finally we all manage to go to check-in, check in our suitcases and get our boarding passes. We head toward our gate, and once we've dropped off our hand luggage, anyone who wants can take a little stroll around the immense airport complex, where in the duty free there are very many shops. It's 12:30; the moment of boarding arrives, we count ourselves but...

someone from the group is missing; a quick dash through the shops, we find them, and at the last moment they board; at 13:30, punctually, we take off from Tel Aviv bound for Malpensa; the captain warns us that it's raining in Milan.

Part Two

. We land at Malpensa, a smooth flight; we head to catch the train to Saronno, buy the tickets and, while waiting for the train, what shall we do? A good coffee is just what's needed; rediscovering the taste of espresso is always pleasant. We get on the train and quickly arrive at Saronno station, where relatives have come to pick us up; the return home is always pleasant, as comforting as the warmth of the crackling fireplace while, turning on the PC, I start downloading the photographs, beginning to organise them, and while reading a newspaper I look with curiosity at the little column mentioning the beating that occurred on the day of Passover and Orthodox Easter inside the Holy Sepulchre.

I was an eyewitness to it; I cut out the little piece of newspaper and place it in the inner pocket of my Moleskine, to keep alive the memory of an event that made the news and that I must remember when writing the travel diary. Once the photos are organised and the suitcases emptied, I begin transcribing the notes written during this historic, religious, cultural journey that has certainly left in me "marks" that will be indelible over time.

Three reasons for making the Exodus journey

• Retracing the path taken by the Israelite people is the opportunity to see, observe and understand in detail many cultural, geographical and historical aspects reported in the Bible.

• Travelling in three countries that, although bordering one another, are very different from each other is the occasion to get to know Egyptian, Syrian, Arab and Israeli culture; it is certainly a great cultural and human enrichment where history, art, culture and nature blend into one, shaping unrepeatable beauties.

• Ending the journey in Jerusalem, a city that rises in the "Promised Land", means accessing a cosmopolitan reality where it is possible to observe daily life made up of a melting pot of ethnic groups, religions and cultures coexisting with one another; an example to make one's own and export, hoping that such coexistence can be achieved in all parts of the world.

Acknowledgements

At the end of this work, I feel I must express my personal thanks to all those who made possible such a beautiful and fascinating journey; rich in historical, cultural and natural sites but also steeped in the humanity, the dignity of the peoples and the people I had the chance to meet. Gratitude also to those who urged me on and to those who assisted me in the creation of this diary.

Particular thanks to: • Don Maurizio Corbetta, Parish Priest of Rovello Porro (CO), originator of the journey. • The travel agency Alohatour of Pavia ( - tel. 0382.5395.65) for the overall organisation. • The tour operator Antichi Splendori of Turin ( - tel. 011.8126.715) for the well-structured programme and for the useful information provided. • Mohamud and Sergio, the guides for Jordan and Israel, for the high professionalism demonstrated; for having brought us closer with competence, preparation and absolute respect to Jordanian and Israeli cultures and traditions. • Foto ottica Balestrini Luca of Rovello Porro (tel. 02.9675.2227) for the advice and the photographic equipment provided to me. • To Simona and Pietro who contributed to the presentation and correction of the diary.

Bibliography

Bibliography • Romeo Maggioni – Sui sentieri dell'esodo • Egitto – Touring Club Italiano – Edizione 1995 • Giordania – Touring Club Italiano – Edizione 228 • Israele Territori palestinesi – Touring Club Italiano – Edizione 2008 • Marta Minuzzo and Roberto Cattani - Medio Oriente - Livington & C • Fabio Bourbon – Guida archeologica a Petra – Magnus • Fabio Bourbon – Petra, Arte, storia e itinerari nella capitale nabatea – Edizioni White Star • Wadu Rum, Il deserto dei Beduini – Plurigraf • Miriam Feinderg – Vomosh – La vita quotidiana ai tempi di Gesù - Palphot – Israele • Raffaele Banfi – Diario di viaggio Usbekistan e Turkmenistan

The author

An eclectic figure, always discovering new things for constant professional and personal improvement, he has been active in training for over 20 years, initially only for voluntary associations belonging to the "third sector". In his professional career he has been able to broaden and develop his passion for training, designing and managing various courses and training programmes. He has obtained results and appreciation from companies and from the association world, where he has collaborated in the research, selection, training and motivation of personnel. He is currently engaged in multiple activities, both for companies and for associations, for which he consolidates existing programmes and develops new ones, always gaining broad consensus and high esteem from all.

For years he has discovered the pleasure of writing and publishing his travel diaries and, in the multimedia version, enriching them with photographs, a passion of his forever, so as to make them engaging for those who read them. Pietro Fondrini Teacher and trainer

He has written the following texts: • La selezione del personale: un percorso da saper gestire • Prontuario per il soccorso sanitario • Manuale per corsi di formazione

Among his successful courses, we highlight: • Metodo ViVOSA – Come ottenere migliori risultati attraverso la pianificazione strategica delle proprie attività • Previdenza pubblica e complementare – Le scelte per costruire un proprio futuro • L'arte della retorica – Saper parlare in pubblico