The Exodus Journey

Introduction

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

I will travel through Egypt, Jordan, the West Bank and Israel, countries not so 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 trip; you always need to clearly understand 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 rereading; • of the Mystery, with celebrations, prayers and songs; • touristic, with the guides describing the places we will see along the itinerary.

I pack my suitcase with summer clothes suitable 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 guides and not least the essential plane tickets.

For the trip 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 them easier to find. Example: Egypt (E-TCI pag.), Jordan (G-TCI pag.), Israel (I-TCI pag.), so that anyone who wants to explore further can find the necessary references.

Part one

On a cloudy and cold spring day, we go to the Saronno (VA) railway station to catch, at 11:16, the Malpensa Express, the train that in 30 minutes will take us to the international airport of Malpensa. The day, like the airport after the recent news that sees Alitalia wanting to abandon the airport structure, is grey and gloomy. The airport is half-empty, many boarding areas are closed, it feels like wandering through a desert cathedral; outside very few cars and buses, inside you move among empty check-in desks, an endless desolation, and even the coffee seems to have a bitter taste. But this doesn't dampen our enthusiasm for a destination so important for 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 path of the Jewish people who, leaving Egypt, made their way until reaching the "promised land", that is, the current states of Israel and the West Bank (Palestine).

The "Journey of the Exodus", but what does Exodus mean? Here I want to quickly delve deeper into 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 that is expected from it. 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 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 to live in, through a Mediator, that is, Moses (Christ) The exodus therefore constitutes the saving fact 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 in 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 is 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 great river, it's the Nile, on whose banks we see houses surrounded by greenery.

As the flight continues, I notice that the density of the houses increases significantly and while the Nile thins into several branches, in the haze we fly over the outskirts of Cairo, the capital of Egypt, an immense city where the outskirts stretch as far as the eye can see. It's about 6:00 pm and the first lights illuminate the streets and the terraced houses that from above appear like parallelepipeds; in the distance, in the haze, one glimpses the shape of the pyramids that, massive and imposing, point their tops toward the sky that is slowly filling with stars. We land and, having reached the airport structure, we prepare to collect the suitcases, pass through passport control with the affixing of the entry visa, then further checks and finally, leaving the airport, we head towards the bus and here we are welcomed by a dark and heavy air due to atmospheric pollution.

Having loaded the suitcases and boarded the vehicle, we head towards the hotel; we cross the city along a route that winds through major traffic arteries, elevated roads, 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 some delicious chocolate-covered dates and, like a good salesman, tries to propose "alternatives" to what is 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 taxi fleet made up mostly of Fiat 128, Fiat 124 and Peugeot 305. The elevated roads run between the houses and while traveling it is not unusual to be able to "see" inside the homes scenes of daily life.

After almost 2 hours of travel, we arrive near Giza where our hotel is; a beautiful crescent moon has already appeared some time ago 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: Egyptian cuisine and flavors are well appreciated; the Arab bread, meat, vegetables and desserts are excellent. After dinner, a short stroll, and finally we go to sleep, but our 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 because of the noise of the heavy traffic that has increased since dawn. Coming out of the room we are welcomed 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 plain where the pyramids stand. On the bus we get to know the guide who will accompany us in these days; his name is Felice, he is 36 years old and speaks Italian reasonably well. After a short journey through the chaotic traffic of the outskirts we arrive on a hill where we can spot the three pyramids; we quickly approach the archaeological site but find an infinity of buses with tourists. As soon as we get off the bus, before accessing 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 plain.

The checkpoint stands 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, right above my head; it's useless to deny an emotion at scrutinizing this immense building that I have been able to admire so many times in films, photographs and archaeological TV programs. But being there in person is always a great and immense emotion. I am along the north side of the pyramid where you can see the access to the inner chambers and despite the hour, there are already many tourists waiting for their turn to enter. We get back on the bus heading towards a scenic viewpoint from where it is possible to observe the three pyramids in all their majesty; 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 mainly frequented by tourists and as soon as we get off the bus, 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 raised and carried by the wind gets everywhere, into clothes and into the camera.

Having finished taking photos, we set off again towards 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", placed in a structure adjacent to the pyramid of Cheops: we decide on the second option. As soon as we get off the bus 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 can I get away from these characters. Approaching and walking 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 runs alongside one side of the pyramid when we find a recently built building; it's the "Solar Boat Museum", (E-TCI 115) we enter, pay the ticket and, after putting on 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 stupendously beautiful. Almost 44 meters long and 6 wide, it has an elongated keel, with the bow rising imposingly toward the sky. In the center the wooden cabin, supported by poles in the shape of a closed lotus flower, then space for 5 rowers on each side, and at the stern the two helmsmen.

Today one can only imagine the beauty of such a vessel that, adorned, light, glides over the placid waters of the great river, carrying the royalty of ancient Egypt. This masterpiece of river art was found 65 years ago, but only for 5 years has it been visitable 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 plain. We leave the boat and, walking alongside the pyramid of Cheops, we head towards the bus stopped 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 wide (E-TCI 117).

Back on the vehicle, we head towards the opposite end of the plain, where the Sphinx stands (E-TCI 116), the enormous statue in the shape of a lion with the head of a Pharaoh. We access the archaeological area, but this too is invaded by noisy tourists that 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, technologically speaking, are always at the forefront. 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 derives from the imposing monolith blocks of pink granite, perfectly laid among each other, that were used to make the walls and columns.

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

One enters the neighborhood, recently refurbished, along a street where on one side the ancient boundary wall stands and on the other runs the city metro. We reach an open space 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 "Hanging Church" (E-TCI 84). The church has a beautiful interior architecture; in the center stands the 12th-century marble ambo with carved columns whose beauty leaves one amazed at the fineness of the workmanship.

Leaving the Hanging Church and retracing a stretch of road towards the bus, we visit the church of Saint George (E-TCI 82), where outside, next to the stairs leading to the church, is placed the statue of Saint George fighting the dragon; the interior, circular in shape, is a classic Coptic church, with many icons.

Part two

We continue the tour and through an old gate, passing beyond the walls, we walk through narrow alleys full of shops, where I notice some interesting publications, enchanting black-and-white photos, as well as CDs of Egyptian and Arab music. After a few hundred meters we reach the Church of Saint 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 manhunt organized by Herod. This place will ideally become the starting point of our exodus to the Holy City; Jerusalem. We leave the Coptic neighborhood when it is almost 1 pm and head towards the Nile; in a restaurant crowded with tourists we stop for lunch; a "passable" meal, very cheap, where the only decent things are the fried fish and the white rice with onion.

The afternoon is dedicated to visiting the Egyptian Museum (E-TCI 71), a place that is a must-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 seems, as an overall setup, "dated"; but despite this, it is 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 in what way was found in the tomb discovered by Carter in 1922; Carter himself did a precious and meticulous cataloging work of all the pieces found that are now displayed in the glass display 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, where a golden chariot of high workmanship from Asia stands out. In some display cases are enclosed containers that look like enormous boxes, and looking at them I can't understand their use, and there are not even any explanations; I ask Felice what they are and he tells me they are containers that, 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 goes inside the other, and in the smallest container were the canopic jars and the golden sarcophagus.

Finally, in an air-conditioned and well-protected room there is the "treasure", that is, the golden 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 before the astonishment and wonder that seizes the interested visitor. Leaving the treasure room, we return among the crowd that fills the building, and the humid heat brings us back to reality. The rush 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 kept in this place. We quickly see something else, especially we take a walk among the black granite statues of the first dynasties.

A real shame not to have been able to delve deeper into some topics of Egyptian antiquity; but today's mass tourism is also this. Once the museum visit is over, we return to the hotel, shower and then buffet dinner. The evening passes peacefully playing cards and chatting, some people start their first purchases.

Part One

The alarm goes off at 8:00, but earlier the service staff had already come by wanting to redo the room; incredible the rush and disorganization of this hotel. Breakfast, then we check that the suitcases have been loaded onto the bus and set off; despite being at the beginning of the day the air is already heavy with pollution. Fortunately we are leaving the metropolis and heading towards the Sinai peninsula where the air will surely be better. Crossing the sprawling capital we head towards the outskirts where new neighborhoods have been built, characterized by small houses, all equipped with a TV satellite dish, and from a high road it's fun to observe these hundreds of dishes that appear as far as the eye can see; a clear sign of progress.

After passing the city, near a hilly area, the driver heads towards a hill that is walled and guarded by law enforcement; we have reached the Citadel (E-TCI 85), an imposing fortified area tucked against the mountains and overlooking the city, designed by Saladin in 1176. Having paid the entrance ticket we head inside, walking alongside the mighty crenellated walls that have stood on the hill for centuries; as we walk we see the spires of the Mosque of Muhammad Ali, our destination, appear ever closer, jutting up toward the sky. After crossing an enormous portal we access the inner part of the fortress and only after climbing a flight of stairs that leads to the upper esplanade can we enjoy the full view of the alabaster mosque; a unique enchantment.

The mineral white gleams 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 imposingness of the structure as a whole leave one astonished. We walk around the mosque observing other buildings of the citadel, then, through a gateway, we access the courtyard of the mosque; since it is a sacred place for Muslims, we must take off our shoes and enter barefoot, a rite, this of taking off shoes and walking with bare feet, 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 place my footwear to take photographs. The mosque, built between 1824 and 1848, in its form resembles that of Constantinople and appears immense.

Inside, the side walls and pillars are clad in alabaster decorated with floral motifs; the vault has frescoes and gilded stuccos. It is truly a wonderful and seductive work, a beautiful example of "Ottoman baroque", it feels like being truly in a setting from the tales of a thousand and one nights. While Felice describes the structure and the history of the place, I have fun taking photos both outside and inside, and despite the difficulty of working handheld inside, some photos turn out really beautiful. Leaving the mosque, we find ourselves on a terrace from which one enjoys a vast panorama over the city, an extension as far as the eye can see; in the distance the desert wind raises sand and blurs the view of the pyramids. I take a few photos and then head towards the bus.

Having boarded the vehicle, it sets off again but after a few meters it stops; some people get on with the lunch baskets; we are just about to leave the metropolis to head towards the Sinai desert. As we leave the city, in the extreme outskirts I notice many houses with onion 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 from sand-colored become red and the immense plain is dotted with military barracks, identifiable by the fences and the checks at the entrance.

Suddenly you start to see villages surrounded by cultivated fields, and you notice 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 connecting canal between 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 forefather of the current canal. After various and alternating historical events, we arrive at the realization with the current route of the canal inaugurated on 17 November 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 have 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 do containers move in the middle of the desert? Is it a hallucination? Not at all; it's a ship traveling along the canal, and at a regular distance a second one arrives and then a third; it's a succession of merchant ships that from the Mediterranean go down towards the Red Sea.

Navigation in the canal proceeds in alternating fashion; ships enter at predetermined distances and must travel the canal at a constant speed. It's pleasant to observe how at regular distances 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 would seem faster than on the open sea where there is no reference point. Seeing colossi of the sea moving in the desert is entertainment without equal; the fun is trying to identify the flag of the ship and understand its nationality. While the ships transit, the group is busy "emptying" the travel baskets: sandwich with cutlet, sandwich with eggplant and grilled meat, fruit juice, chips.

The service area where we are stopped is an almost obligatory stop for those passing through, so the restaurateur is equipped with tables that he makes available to those who want to consume their travel basket, and in exchange offers cold

Part Two

The tunnel is traveled at cruising speed; we encounter trucks, cars and other buses coming in the opposite direction. To think that above us flows the water that connects two important seas and that allows maritime transport to save a few weeks in navigation time is truly wonderful. After a few minutes of travel, some natural light can be glimpsed on the asphalt; we are near the exit and indeed the tunnel ends. We are beginning a small climb that will take us back to desert level when the driver makes a sudden and abrupt braking; a few shouts, and in front of us ……. the cab of a truck traveling in the opposite direction appears; the collision seems inevitable, the brakes screech, and you can also hear those of the truck coming downhill. The impact gets closer and closer, but just a few centimeters from each other the vehicles stop; the drivers start cursing; who is right, I don't know.

Once the scare is over, the journey proceeds normally; we are in the desert of the Sinai Peninsula and are traveling southeast toward the lowest point of the peninsula, where the Sinai massif rises, giving the region its name. Along the way we pass numerous and ever-present military barracks, villages surrounded by cultivated land and, driving along the Red Sea, we can notice ships at anchor waiting for their turn to transit through the Suez Canal toward the Mediterranean. As we approach Sharm el-Sheikh, we pass tourist villages and near one of them we make a stop to stretch our legs a bit, and some in the group, seeing a beautiful turquoise-blue sea, take the opportunity to wet their feet.

During the stop I can observe how in this area the presence of wind is constant; I notice it both from the sand dunes piled against the houses and from the plants that, as in all fairly windy places, grow leaning. We resume the journey, still driving along the sea until, upon reaching a fork, we turn left and go deep into the desert toward imposing rocky massifs, a place where the hills and mountains appear multicolored; you can see brown, hazel, red, black, which in some stretches appears blue. Laterally to the road that heads toward the central part of the massif, large and small valleys open up alternately, 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 am not convinced, but I note the detail.

Indeed, checking afterward, I discover that mimosa belongs to the acacia family: Felice was right. Continuing toward our destination we pass through many Bedouin villages that have gone from nomadic to settled; but at the edges of the villages or in the desert one can still see tents of this 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 a place that is "guarded," where anyone entering must ask permission; one has the impression of always being watched and checked by attentive and 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 speaking with the gatekeeper, we cannot get inside.

It seems that all the priests are busy, it's not clear with what, but according to the guard, they are all indeed occupied; we wait some tens of minutes, but in vain, and so we get back on the bus and resume the journey. Now the road runs through mountain gorges, sometimes narrow and sometimes broader, and the landscape changes continually; the sun is setting, coloring the sandstone walls of the mountains, which, struck by the sunset rays, turn red ochre. The ochre color is interrupted only by some basaltic eruptive intrusions of black granite, with pleasant green veins, and they appear like a multicolored puzzle. Along the road we find villages surrounded by date palms, and in some areas the palm cultivation creates fantastic views. I notice that for tens of kilometers there is an open excavation; they are laying a metal pipeline 25 cm in diameter.

The pipeline is only partly laid and every so often you see pipes stacked ready to be welded and laid; I deduce that it could be an aqueduct or an oil pipeline. Shortly after sunset we arrive at the protected area of Saint Catherine 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 complex is made up of a series of small houses scattered over some hills, and on the highest one stands the restaurant. After settling the suitcases, we go out for a walk in the nearby village; here it is already night, the lights illuminate the streets and houses. Under some arcades we find a few small shops still open and notice that the price of the goods is more convenient than in Cairo; an excellent opportunity to do some shopping.

We return to the hotel as it is dinner time, then everyone off to bed for a few hours, because in the middle of the night we will set off for the ascent of Mount Sinai.

Part One

The alarm clock rings implacably at 1:30, yes exactly at one thirty; practically we have rested only a few hours. The bus is waiting to leave for the parking lot of Saint Catherine's Monastery (E-TCI 279). Just outside the hotel we stop at a café to drink hot tea; the place is crowded with tourists and pilgrims preparing for the ascent of Mount Sinai. It is amusing to observe the difference in clothing among the people present: some wear heavy sweaters, some stroll around comfortably in short-sleeved T-shirts. Experienced hikers stand out because of their physique, clothing and equipment; the atmosphere reminds me of my alpine climbs, where in the huts at departure there is a ritual to respect: silence, breakfast with hot tea, and then, sleepy, you set off toward the goal.

Here too the same "ritual" takes place, just with a few more words, but in people's faces I notice the same expression of sleepiness and cold. We get on the bus and quickly reach the monastery parking lot, where the vehicle stops. I check what I have in my backpack, put the flashlight in my pocket and get off the bus, but after a few meters we are all stopped in line. What's happening? Why aren't we moving? Even though the cold of the night is making itself felt, we have to pass yet another checkpoint. We pass it and enter a dirt road leading to the Monastery; we stop, I try a nighttime photo of the group, but framing and shooting in the middle of the 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 raised by the people ahead of us gets into the nose and mouth.

In the total darkness of the night, the ascent begins; I don't know where I am, I have no references except the road that rises slightly up to the walls of Saint Catherine's Monastery; now the road turns into a path. 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 no one escapes despite the darkness of the night. In the middle of the night we are climbing the slopes of Mount Sinai; the black sky is studded with thousands of stars; I had not seen a sky so well lit by the stars for a 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. One person at a time, helped by the Bedouins, begins to take a seat in the saddle. But at night, getting into the saddle is not a simple thing; with flashlight illumination you manage as best you can. I take some photos, then 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 light the area where I am with the flashlight to try to understand where to head, but I see no trace of a path.

Only in the distance, to my right, I see on the mountain the long serpentine line of lit flashlights of the people climbing, but around me there really is no one. Fortunately I have done some night climbs before, so I don't lose heart; I search the mountain until I spot a path, and I start walking uphill, but I realize that I am moving away from the luminous serpentine line climbing the mountain. I look at the sky, it is starry, I am in absolute silence; I take the opportunity to walk in complete solitude; it is just me with my pace, my breathing, my backpack and my thoughts, admiring this spectacle offered by the heavens. As I walk, time passes and I continue to remain inexorably distant from the luminous serpentine line; I really don't know where I am.

I stop for a moment to assess the situation and decide to continue a little longer, and if I don't find a path for the ascent, I will see whether it is worth waiting for dawn or going back down and looking for the path so I can climb Sinai. I resume walking, trying to illuminate as much as possible to find a path that will lead me back to the others, and while I am walking, suddenly, from the deep darkness of the night, voices reach me; I stop to understand from which side they are coming. With the flashlight I cannot illuminate anything, and I decide to continue carefully toward the voices. At a certain point the voices become clearer; they are Italians. I

Part Two

At the rest stop we find Mariella and Luigia, who have to pay for the transport. The three of us continue on, while in the distance the first signs of the sun appear, a faint white band shows on the horizon. Following the path we pass through a channel carved between the granite walls of the mountain, a few metres of descent and we arrive at a plateau with some buildings; we are at the "amphitheatre of the 70 elders of Israel". Here today there is a refreshment point and in a hut a group of Orthodox worshippers is praying by candlelight. There are many people, some will stop here, others will continue the climb towards the summit of the mountain, and the path now turns into an immense and endless staircase, 734 steps, carved by the monks, that lead to the top.

Climbing is an ordeal, the legs ache, the pace is uneven because of the irregular steps; even though some people let us pass, the fatigue of the climb is felt in the legs and in the breathing. Little by little we climb, we tackle the first ramp, then a second and finally we arrive at a rest stop, we are hot and sweaty; we must be careful of the cool of the night to avoid muscular and respiratory problems. We are on the last 100 steps, the fatigue, after almost 3 hours of climbing, makes itself felt, but we are close to the goal, the legs ache, but we don't give up, I look for my steady pace and in a short time I arrive at the final flat area of the mountain; here there are already people sitting on the boulders, Tonina and Francesca have found a "free" spot and we hurry to make it ours.

It is 4:30 when, seated on the cold granite rock of the summit of Mount 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 shelter from the cold air of the mountain. The sunlight gradually comes to illuminate the mountain and the Sinai massif shows all its wild beauty and its grandeur. The mountains, grey before, now struck by the light, become red and emerge from the darkness. We are 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, although we are on the edge of a precipice, we have to argue with some Japanese who, under the pretext of wanting to take photos, want to take our spot; only our firmness drives away these barbarians who display their incivility.

This last fact, like other behaviours, shows that, despite what is commonly said, Italians turn out to be very civil and polite people. At 5:20, behind the clouds that stand out on the horizon, the first intense sunbeams appear; quickly the ball of fire emerges from the clouds, its rays illuminate everything and everyone, beginning to warm the bones of those who are still on the rocks waiting for it; it is enchanting to be able to admire the sunrise from this height and with this clear and clean sky; the stars, at the arrival of the light, are quickly disappearing and the stone continues to light up, to take on colour, to assume a well-defined shape. 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 extremely crowded both by those going up and those going down. Struggling greatly on the way down, I decide to go down along the side of the mountain that runs alongside the steps and in a short time I reach the huts; I begin the second stretch where the descent is steep, impervious and where one proceeds slowly in zig-zags. Towards the end I find Simona, who slipped a little earlier; she has a sprained knee and a wound on her right hand; she cannot walk, we need to find a dromedary to take her down to the Monastery and then reach 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 mountain, when we find Felice, our guide; the search for the dromedary becomes simpler.

While I am helping Simona to reach the dromedary, I notice that someone in the group, instead of keeping to the right path, that is, the one we came up on, takes the left path, "the staircase", a path made of over 8,000 steps that, going down, leads directly and in a short time to Saint Catherine's Monastery. Accompanying other members of the group who want to go down using the dromedary service, I take the path we followed on the way up; having reached the dromedary platform, those who want to use the animals wearily haggle over the price for the descent. So I begin the long and exhausting descent, where I meet people coming back from the summit and someone who, giving up from fatigue, has decided to return to the starting point.

While I go down, the first rays of the sun, emerging from the mountain, illuminate the imposing defensive walls of the Monastery below; what better occasion to take photographs? I continue the descent together with others in the group and a few minutes before 8:00 we arrive at the parking area, finding the coach; the fatigue of the climb and the descent is felt in the legs, the tiredness is truly great. Around 8:30 the group gradually comes together again, and those who came down by "the staircase" arrive literally destroyed with a terrible ache in their legs. Once the group is together again, we set off for the hotel, where a nice shower takes away some of the tiredness, then a good and abundant breakfast and then we set off again for the visit to Saint Catherine's Monastery (E-TCI 279).

Returning to the parking area we have to pass the night check again; since Simona walks badly, we manage, as a wholly exceptional measure, to pass with the coach, which takes us up to the gate of the Monastery; the appointment for departure towards the sea is set for 11:00 at the same place. The visit to the Monastery, bounded by mighty defensive walls, is a plunge into a crowd, a disorderly crush that moves without a pre-established route; it is hard to enter and to move within the narrow lanes that run between the buildings. The interior of the Monastery is a confused jumble of verandas, galleries, porticoes, staircases, large and small buildings, cells for the monks, a library and a bell tower.

In the Orthodox church, where the enormous mosaic of the Transfiguration is being restored, it is impossible to move or to listen to what Felice is explaining; here respect for religion is close to zero. It is just a touristic, consumerist place; for me an immense disappointment. Leaving the church, we pause under the burning bush, which tradition identifies as Moses' 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 is not there. We are 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 go down to the square on foot and when I arrive I find Felice and the bus.

Felice, the guide, who on this occasion proved completely inattentive and badly organised; leaving by the door opposite the entrance he did not bother to check how many people of the group he had with him and headed towards the parking square, forgetting that the appointment was somewhere else entirely. Now he is worried because we are late for the departure towards the ferry that must take us to Jordan. But we cannot leave, some of the group are missing, who rightly stayed where the 11:00 appointment was set. Only with a taxi do we manage to gather everyone and with a delay of almost an hour we set off towards the Red Sea, but the question is:

Part Three

During the journey, while the driver races towards the coast, we have lunch with the travel hamper. The speed at times is high and the driver, although skilled at handling the heavy vehicle, every now and then has to brake sharply to slow down and be able to tackle the bends of the winding road, especially because the coach is raised and on the bends, on the straight stretches, when we meet gusts of wind, the effect of the high centre of gravity is felt. I am about to write this diary when from the TV I learn that on 2 May 2008, in Egypt, on the Sinai road there was a road accident: "the coach, with 40 people on board, had set off from Sharm el-Sheikh for Cairo: because of the high speed it left the road while taking a bend, hit a concrete barrier, overturned several times and caught fire. The toll of the tragedy is 9 dead and 29 injured" (news taken from the internet).

I set this news aside and focus on the next destination. At 13:15 we arrive near Nuwiba and head for the port; we stop at a secondary entrance dedicated to the transit of passengers, outside on the road and in the squares many trucks are waiting to be able to unload their goods. The agency's representative, Mohamed, is waiting for us; he is completing all the necessary paperwork for the exit, we see him in a continuous coming and going between a customs office and the guard post. The departure of the motorship is scheduled for 14:30; we should be in time to pass customs and carry out the relative baggage check. While we are comfortably seated on the air-conditioned coach, on the street, under the blazing sun, a long line of people waits patiently to access the customs checks.

After a few minutes of waiting, we can unload the suitcases from the coach and we too, under the blazing sun, must wait in silence, respectful of Egyptian rules, for them to let us access the baggage and passport check. Then, one by one, we enter a small room, pass the suitcases under the metal detector and, leaving the building, we reload all the luggage onto the coach to head, a few metres away, to a huge building for the exit visa. We enter a hangar; a large room is filled with benches on which men are sitting waiting for their turn to be able to leave Egypt: as I cross the room, I have the sensation of living as 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 relative 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, although there is already a queue of people, we have priority. The officer in charge of the checks is scrupulous; we must write all our details in block capitals and in a perfectly legible way, and if he considers that they are not right, he corrects them on the spot; this makes the visa check an operation that requires quite a lot of time. Once the exit visa is stamped on the passport, to get back to the coach we cross the earlier room again and I notice that in an adjacent room the women are seated; leaving the building, we get back on the coach where fortunately they kept our suitcases, 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 motorship that will take us to Jordan, the Queen Nefertiti; the coach, for the last time, stops.

On the pier, in single file, under the blazing sun and with no shelter, people wait for their boarding; everything is rigidly and rigorously controlled by the harbour police. They tell us that to board we too must get in single file and we, as good Italians, chatting away, line up two by two. Boarding, we deposit the suitcases in the hold, and 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 is a tourist who is helping the crew, but he gives me the impression of being very much in league 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 climb on Sinai, but the tiredness of the night emerges; and in the end we doze on the armchairs and sofas of the motorship. After a couple of hours of sailing, it docks at the port of Aqaba; a Jordanian policeman, politely asking us if we are Italian, welcomes us to his land. Before departure, while we were boarding, the police collected our passports and we will only get them back when we disembark, complete with the entry visa for Jordan. The disembarkation procedures began some time ago, the rear hatch of the ship has been lowered onto the pier and the disembarkation begins following a precise order; the first to disembark is a sheikh who was travelling with his family, then it is the turn of 4 English people, then us Italians.

We leave the ship and on the pier we find some coaches, but it is not ours; a few phone calls to understand where our vehicle is, and after a few tens of 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 travellers, crammed into the lounges, 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 trolleys containing a great many suitcases; we get off, take our suitcases and enter a very large waiting room where the customs officers point out to us that there is no one from the agency to meet us.

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 sitting, the ship's passengers arrive at the entry customs; getting off the coaches they take their suitcases from the trolleys placed outside, enter and line up in an orderly single file. Practically all the ship's passengers pass in front of us, while there is no trace of the agency representative. I observe carefully the people passing before us; they are all Arabic-speaking, and observing the colour of the passports I understand that 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 do not understand whether they are heading home or are immigrants, or in transit in 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; they are all 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 that he is from the agency and claims to have informed the customs officers that he was outside waiting for us; the policemen are not convinced and ask Giorgio and Ambrogina to sign a report attesting to the representative's delay.

In the end they give us back our passports and we can head

Part Four

Once we reach the square we find the bus waiting for us, we load our suitcases and set off towards the hotel; the route through the city winds along roads where the traffic is fairly heavy but flowing; we have a first taste of this city made of modern buildings with beautiful, illuminated streets. We arrive at the hotel, which looks very clean and comfortable; time for a shower and then in the buffet dinner we find many well-cooked and carefully prepared Arab dishes; among them all the quails, the lamb, and some 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 fatigue of the day.

Part One

The phone rings, it is 8:30, Natalia and Simona are calling me for breakfast; tonight, in the room with the air conditioning gradually fading, under a lovely 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 of other 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 make use of the hotel's warm pools; I take the opportunity to read, to sort out my notes and to check the photos taken in the previous days. While waiting for the guide to arrive, reading a book I find some interesting ideas that help me understand where I am: I am in the Middle East.

The Middle East can be defined as the geo-political concept identifying a geographical area characterised by the coexistence of a melting pot of very ancient peoples linked to one another by a common linguistic and cultural matrix, but divided by millennia of inter-ethnic conflicts. In this particular and turbulent area are enclosed 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 roads and buildings under construction, the city is expanding and shows its modernity made of beautiful houses, luxurious hotels, well-kept streets. Opposite the hotel opens the bay of the Red Sea and in it there are some anchored ships, and beyond the bay there is a hill where skyscrapers stand out that seem recently built, surrounded by low houses and greenery. The sky is clear and the wind is steady.

Aqaba is a very modern city in full and modern urban development, located between Israel and Saudi Arabia; with its 27 km of coastline it is Jordan's only outlet to the sea. Aqaba is Jordan's port; here pass not only Jordanian ships but also Iranian ones; in exchange for the use of the port, Iran supplies oil to Jordan free of charge. The time of departure approaches and our guide appears; his name is Mohamud; a person who speaks fluent Italian and immediately proves cordial, attentive and friendly; he will accompany us on the tour of Jordan, as far as the border with Israel. Having got to know the guide, it is time to take our suitcases, get on the coach and set off; a brief tour of the city to see quickly, along the way, the most interesting buildings, and then we head for the outskirts, where the desert begins.

As we travel we see that the sky is murky and the horizon is hidden; Mohamud tells us that this haze is due to the wind that lifts the desert sand; then he tells us a few details about life in his nation. Jordan is a nation with a very young population; in fact 50% of the population is under 15 years of age, 5% is over 70, and 38% is between 18 and 60 years old. The inhabitants are about 6 million, of whom over 1.5 million are schoolchildren; a truly young country. As we go deeper into the desert we pass alongside fields cultivated with courgettes, potatoes, watermelons.

Mohamud informs us that agriculture in Jordan is a problem and weighs heavily on the balance of payments; in the country water is a rarity, as it should come from the Jordan River, but Israel has built an enormous dam which, at the mouth, makes the river practically a small and foul-smelling trickle, and Israel itself sells water to Jordan for agricultural purposes, while drinking water is imported from Syria. Only recently has an aquifer been discovered at a depth of 88 m. and this allows the cultivation of vegetables and greens. Travelling along, we arrive near a small industrialised town and in the nearby mountains there are mines where phosphates are extracted, which are transported by train or by truck to Aqaba for export; this is one of Jordan's sources of wealth, and the main purchasing countries are India and Japan.

Since our goal is an excursion in the Wadi Rum desert, Mohamud explains something about the inhabitants of the desert, the Bedouins: a people who have always been nomadic, accustomed to living in the desert using whatever is at their disposal. They have a lean physique and very beautiful features; indeed, in the days to come I will have the opportunity to admire these wonderful features of both the men and the women, who, as I will observe, have either intensely black eyes or an enchanting green. They feed mainly on dromedary milk and dates, two foods that are not lacking here and that are highly nutritious; they drink tea and coffee. Because of exposure to the sun, the ageing of their skin is early.

They are people of great helpfulness and respectful of the guest, but they are also very stubborn, and this has always created problems and conflicts that are always resolved between the tribes without ever involving the police. The women are always dressed in black, a tradition that derives from the custom of wearing black in the event of mourning, and centuries ago, when clashes in the desert were frequent, the women were often in mourning; since the 1700s they have decided to always wear black. In the desert, having little water and using it mainly for drinking, personal hygiene takes second place.

The most present animal, which serves as a means of transport, as sustenance and more, is the dromedary, an animal belonging to the camelid family, with a single hump, also called the "ship of the desert", and in past centuries, for its resistance to effort it was used as a means of transporting goods and people who had to cross the desert along the "caravan routes". One of its characteristics is the ability to store water in its legs, while the hump is an enormous reserve of fat. The state has built houses for them, but they prefer the tent, also because, built according to their custom, it is cool during the day and warm at night, allowing a more than pleasant stay. And while Mohamud tells us about the life the Bedouins lead, we arrive at the edges of Wadi Rum (G-TCI 124), a desert called the Red Valley, because of the characteristic colour of the rocks and the sand.

Before venturing into the desert we cross the railway that runs through it, where we see a freight train loaded with phosphates (the wealth of the area) heading towards the city we passed a little earlier. We take a side road and stop for the lunch break at a particular accommodation facility; built with typical Bedouin tents, and for the night there is an area equipped with tents, which can accommodate from two to seven people; they are well fitted out and clean. Sleeping at night in the desert, being able to experience this charm, is much in demand by tourists, and numerous places equipped in this way are springing up.

Lunch is a buffet: vegetables, cheeses, chickpeas, yogurt, rice with chicken, rice with lamb (cooked really well); we have lunch under a tent open on one side; the air comes in and the covering stops the sun's rays; it is really pleasant under this simple but effective structure. While we are having lunch, other tourists arrive and the tent, although large, fills up; fortunately, having arrived first, we were able to eat in complete tranquillity. At the end of lunch there is the possibility of tasting Nescafé or excellent Turkish coffee.

Part Two

We resume our journey and go deeper into the Wadi Rum, into this stupendous stretch of desert whose description is difficult for me because of its beauty, and it seems right to quote it from the book "Wadi Rum, il deserto dei beduini". Ed.plurigraf, p. 4: "Visiting the 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 splendour. Known as the "valley of the moon", it extends across the southern part of Jordan.

Of very ancient formation, it owes the definition by which it is famous precisely to the continuous action of atmospheric agents which over the course of millennia have shaped the landscape, making it lunar, granting the stupendous scenery of sandstone rocks that rise suddenly amid expanses of sand, impalpable lobster-coloured dunes, wind-carved walls, stone pinnacles, deep valleys, ancient dried-up riverbeds." The 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 the breeding of camels, sheep and goats; and it is to guarantee grazing for the livestock that perennial nomadism originates. The family structure is patriarchal; several families form a clan and several clans constitute a tribe.

Over the centuries they have known how to preserve their traditions, which, having survived intact to this day, 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 black, 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 the event 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 handle and a few taut strings, played with a small bow.

Only the men perform in the dances, while the women sing and clap their hands rhythmically. But let us return to our journey; having left the lunch place we head to the entry point into the Wadi Rum, the Visitor Centre, where, having paid the ticket, we will get on board off-road vehicles. Here a particular mountain attracts everyone's attention; they look like pillars rising towards 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 the occasion for photographs.

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

We do a nice tour among the fascinating desert mountains, we climb to the top of a hill where we have a truly unique view over a large part of the desert, then we head towards a Bedouin tent but shortly before we stop near a side valley; Mohamud invites us to climb a steep sandy slope to see what is up there; with Tonina I clamber up the slope, and at the end of it we find plants that have unexpectedly grown among the rocks of the mountain; this desert truly never ceases to amaze. We come down from the mountain and set off again towards 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 oneself.

The infusion is made with tea, cardamom, sage and cinnamon, which, skilfully blended, create a drink that is pleasant to me, although for some in the group it will later cause stomach problems. Before resuming the return journey, we stop to see some rock carvings dating back to 1,000 BC, placed on a wall. We take to the desert again, reaching a gorge where the "U" shape of the mountain has allowed this area, in times of conflict, to be turned into a natural prison sheltered from the constant desert wind; we stop to observe a boulder where the faces of Lawrence of Arabia, of Prince Abdullah (a name meaning Servant of God) and of the then chief of the Bedouins have been carved. Having taken photos of the place, we resume the journey, crossing the last stretch of desert towards our coach.

We head to the edges of the Wadi Rum and then begin to climb towards the mountains in the direction of Petra, the ancient, mysterious and unfindable 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 ploughed and cultivated stretches of wheat appear, which serves as fodder for the grazing flocks. It is evening when we arrive at the hotel situated on the ridge of the mountain, from where the deep valley below can be seen. Room assignments, shower and then dinner with Jordanian dishes; excellent smoked beef, semi-spicy sauces, chicken. After dinner, between 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 difficult to stay out, so I decide to go back in to listen to the music and take a turn around the shop; while I browse among the books, I find some in Italian that seem interesting to me, and I decide to buy them.

Part One

Wake-up at 7:00; tonight I did not sleep very well, I kept waking up, perhaps it is the excitement of seeing Petra? Breakfast and at 8:00 we are ready for departure towards the valley floor where, hidden and protected among the rock, Petra stands. From above absolutely nothing can be seen, 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 a hazel colour. The guide tells us that we were lucky to go to the Wadi Rum yesterday; today, because of the sandy wind, one would see really little.

Having made the descent, we travel through the valley where about 22,000 people live, whose source of livelihood is tourism. We cross a village, with streets that are at times narrow, and arrive at an extensive square, parking for coaches; we have reached Petra (G-TCI 106). Petra is one of Jordan's main sources of wealth; indeed millions of tourists visit it every year; in periods of greatest influx there are peaks of 7,000 people a 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 prized goods demanded in the countries at the ends of the trade 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 a point of archaeological attraction and later of tourism. 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 still today, years later, on the occasions when I have the honour of visiting it again, I feel as excited as a boy on his first date.

Although I have travelled 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 rethink their convictions. If you can grasp its enchantment - listening to the poetry of silence, observing the inexhaustible kaleidoscope of colours, admiring the superb balance of the rock-cut architecture - you too will be rewarded by the intimate, profound sensation of unequalled beauty. Above all, you will return home carrying a treasure in your heart....." (Fabio Bourbon - Guida archeologica a Petra, Preface) But let us return to our journey; we get off the coach and head towards the entrance into the valley. A gate bars the road; only after buying the ticket and passing the checks can we access the area.

The dirt road winds gently downhill, but it is possible to take horses to avoid walking it, though the guide advises against it; in fact those who took a horse covered only a few hundred metres and, having reached the mouth of the siq, ended their journey; besides, here there are carriages available to travel through the siq, but for a stretch of less than 2 km, the sum demanded is truly stratospheric. We begin to descend into the valley, and from the first metres one 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 passage 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 has been given by the inhabitants according to their shape or the presence of certain features. 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 symbolised eternity. In some tombs there are side staircases which, according to the builders, served the soul of the deceased to ascend towards the sky.

Continuing towards the entrance of the canyon, on the left of the road one sees the tomb of the obelisks (G-TCI 109), a name deriving from four obelisks carved at the top of the tomb, while below, passing through the main door, one enters the triclinium, a place intended for the commemoration of the dead. In the tombs transformed into houses, one can notice, in addition to the enlarged entrance doors, also the channels carved into the rock that served to collect rainwater, which was gathered in cisterns. The Nabataeans proved to be great engineers in the collection and conservation of rainwater in this desert area where rain is 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 for centuries by water, and it is still a narrow path where in some points the distance between the rock does not exceed two metres; the entrance to the siq was considered sacred. Shortly before the entrance one can see the dam and the tunnel that the Nabataeans dug into the rock to drain rainwater and prevent flooding in the ancient city. We enter the siq and, after a few metres, we see the remains of the Roman triumphal arch that marks the entrance into the city. Along the walls, clearly visible, carved into the sandstone, are the channels and terracotta pipes that collected and channelled rainwater into the cisterns. We walk in the siq, where the eye is lost among the steep walls 80 to 100 metres high, while the sun at times struggles to reach the stony floor.

On the walls, oriented towards the east, that is, towards the sunrise, altars and shrines that enclosed deities are carved. Suddenly on the wall one glimpses, although eroded by the sand carried by the wind, a sculpture depicting two dromedaries and two camel drivers at full size, heading towards the city, while on the opposite side other figures head towards the exit from the city. Looking upwards, the guide shows us a sandstone formation beautiful both in its shapes and its colours; the shape is the work of the wind which, carrying the desert sand, over the centuries has shaped the rock, creating this surreal shape with stupendous colours: we can admire the yellow given by sulphur, the grey given by iron and the red given by copper.

We continue when suddenly Mohamud stops us and tells us to approach a wall; in the fissure between the two walls one glimpses 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, to observe it in all its beauty, we go in to visit the interior, and it is extraordinary how the Nabataeans knew how to carve the rock, creating in real tombs palaces complete with a facade with main and secondary chambers. We resume our walk towards other wonders of this stupendous city which in antiquity, at its greatest splendour, reached 13,000 inhabitants here in the lower part and another 12,000 on the adjacent hills. We see a water cistern decorated on the outside, then

Part Three

I am about to set off again, but I hear Michelina shouting; being close by, 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 off, fortunately with no consequences, 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 yards we reach a small landing area; it is the terminus of the climb with the donkeys and people are made to dismount, from here on you continue on foot.

I don't understand why they don't let the donkeys go further, but after a few yards the answer comes by itself: we arrive at a ledge carved into the rock some tens of yards long and little more than one wide, with the sandstone wall on one side and on the other, beneath our feet, a chasm of some hundreds of yards. That is why they made people dismount, to prevent anyone from falling while walking along the ledge.

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

This monument is to be seen in the afternoon when the sun, moving westward, enhances its colors, and then pink turns to red, red to brown and the blue sky creates a unique contrast of fascinating beauty. I can consider myself fortunate to admire such magnificence; indeed, given the route, which is demanding anyway, not all people climb all the way up here to admire this tomb. A brief stop at the refreshment point to recover a bit of breath and then we continue toward the panoramic spot a few minutes' walk away. We walk on desert rock, where even the grass is sparse; sand and rock are the only elements composing this landscape, in the distance the sky appears murky, indeed, beyond the mountains, the wind is carrying sand which makes the view limited.

As we walk we reach a fork; two paths lead to two panoramic points; we begin by climbing the left one, 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 am staggering, my head is spinning, the dehydration is really great; I take the little bottle of water from 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 colors 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 a few hundred yards 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 yards below me, I notice the Nabatean sacrificial altar. The altar is clearly visible in the rock, I notice perfectly the well-carved edge, the blood drainage channel and a hole where the blood was collected; it is carved so well into the sandstone that it appears as if perfectly resting on it. Having taken photos and notes I go back down toward the "monastery" where the rendezvous is with all those who have climbed, here a group photo and then we descend toward the valley floor.

Now we must climb back up the long road traveled in the morning. Since my legs are starting to ache, I decide to do a stretch riding a little donkey that trots along the ancient Roman road along the majestic colonnade. The experience is truly pleasant, going on donkey-back allows you to observe the landscape well, with the absolute spectacle of the sunset over the Royal Tombs, over the Street of Facades and over other Tombs. Despite the donkey's pace I manage to snap a few photos, but above all to rest my tired legs a bit. I climb back up to the amphitheater, where the donkeys stop, I pay the toll and proceed in the shade as far as the Treasury Temple. Here the group reassembles once more, a brief consultation and then some set off toward the exit, entering the siq, and some wait for the carriage to travel this stretch of road more comfortably.

It is just past 4 p.m., we are waiting for the carriages to negotiate the price; at 4:15 the carriages do not arrive and I deduce that we are late for the appointment. At 4:30 I decide to go back on foot, I set off for the siq and after a few yards the carriages arrive, I turn back, to try to negotiate the price, but the carts are stormed by other tourists who do not respect the line 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 good walking I am, punctual, at the entrance gate, but we have to wait for those who were with me; a few minutes later they too arrive. We leave for the hotel, shower, dinner and at 8 p.m. I put on comfortable shoes, take my backpack with camera, tripod and we set off for Petra by night.

By coach we reach the tourist center where they give a brief presentation of the evening; the immediate sensation is that of an initiative just for tourists with not much added value; but given the cost of the evening, a full 12€, I hope to be wrong. We set off toward the valley, passing through the entrance gate and… along the road lit by dozens of candles we walk toward the mouth of the siq. The half-full moon lights the road well, where it is lovely to stroll. There are many people, and I decide to close the group, being careful not to leave anyone behind. Meanwhile I take the opportunity to snap a few night shots using the tripod I brought with me. We reach the siq and enter; all lit by the candles which create a great and evocative effect. Walking in the canyon is truly fantastic with the walls partially lit by the moon.

In the darkest points, the candles light the road well, bringing out the shadows of the Roman paving that partly composes it. In a short time we reach the Treasury Temple; the whole square is strewn with candles placed on the ground among rows of mats, where we can sit. After a few minutes the Bedouin music show begins; a rababah player (the Bedouin musical instrument) starts, playing a few tunes, then he is succeeded 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 scant performance, which can be called theatrical rather than musical, is over, mint tea is distributed and the sale of Bedouin music DVDs/CDs begins. An exclusively commercial evening that expresses very little art and culture. The only pleasant thing is the evocative appearance of the siq lit by the light of the candles and of 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 p.m. and before going to bed, I enjoy a nice cold beer.

Part One

Wake-up at 7:30, we pack the suitcases, breakfast and then we check that they are loaded onto the coach and we leave Petra; along the road we stop at a point where, among the rocks of the mountain, one can make out 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 Bedouins' houses have been built; in the side valleys one sees some oaks 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, the production of wheat for food use cannot exceed 10% of national demand; the remaining sown is used by pastoralism; the wheat for human consumption is imported from the USA.

While Mohamud is describing life in Jordan, we come near the castle of King Baldwin: 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 all of Jordan and, in ancient times, was dotted with a series of fortresses where the population and the military could find shelter and lodging. Mohamud, with great pride, at our questions resumes telling us about his nation, explaining that the pension system does not exist, or rather, being a recently constituted 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 cycle provides 6 years of elementary, 3 years of middle school, 3 years of high school and finally university, where as many as 57% of the students are women. The high level of schooling 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 Aqada? Unemployment is fairly low, long steady at 13%. A "curious" fact is linked to the labor market; here women earn less than men, consequently the cost of labor for companies is lower than for male employees and this phenomenon means that it is the fair sex who work as employees and 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 headgear called Kifia and originally the colors 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 colors 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 illustrates some Muslim religious traditions, starting from the daily prayer which must be made 5 times a day; at dawn, at noon, in the afternoon, at sunset, and finally in the dark. Prayer is always preceded by ablutions as a sign of purification. He explains 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, provisionally, 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 name and surname, date of birth and death engraved. The relatives during the funeral vigil follow a very precise ritual: • the first day, the men gather under a tent, drink tea and eat a date; • the second day, the women visit the deceased reading passages from the Koran.

Again on the religious theme, Mohamud tells us that the feasts are divided into two types: • the small feast, which occurs at the end of Ramadan and is characterized by the food cooked for the occasion, besides the gifts given to children; • the great feast, which occurs in the two months following the pilgrimage to Mecca, where tradition wants the event to 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 practice. Speaking of crafts, the guide tells us that in Jordan the little jars filled with colored sand with various figures created by the sand itself are characteristic; camels, palms are the most widespread figures besides desert backgrounds with mountains and birds, dromedaries and palms.

While Mohamud tells of his native land, the journey continues through the desert dotted with a few villages; the roads are well paved and it is a pleasure to travel; the driver has a good guide. Arriving near 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 handicrafts; at first glance it would seem cheap goods, but looking carefully I realize the artifacts are of good, if not excellent and refined, workmanship. There are daggers and silver jewels, coral and hard-stone necklaces, the inevitable narghile and the rababah, brass coffee pots, various terracotta or ceramic ware, chairs and gaming tables decorated with stones, tables with mosaics of flowers or geometric motifs and in an adjacent room there is a craftsman who works hard stones making necklaces and earrings.

Seeing these pleasant and refined products, it is a given that someone in the group devotes themselves to purchases and while they are busy choosing the products, I continue the tour of the shop where I can admire precious silk carpets, as well as wooden chairs crafted in cabinetmaking with mother-of-pearl, which on the black of the wood takes on a luster with fascinating nuances. Also inside the bazaar, there is a beauty department with products from the nearby Dead Sea. We resume the journey and arrive at Al-Karak (G-TCI 99), a small town that rises on the "King's Highway", the ancient route that connected the north to the south of Jordan, dotted with castles built by the crusaders. We arrive in the fully fortified city, traveling along narrow streets where the driver must use all his skill to drive the coach as far as the entrance of the fortress.

We visit the place, or rather what remains of it, since over the centuries the structure has been looted and used as a quarry to draw material for the construction of the neighboring 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 destined 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 lodged. Once the visit is over, we resume our journey and, crossing the city, we pass near an Italian hospital founded in 1934 and still run by Comboni sisters.

We resume the King's Highway heading north and, as we approach a dip, we see ancient milestones; placed at regular distances of 1,420 meters, they marked the correct way for the camel drivers who traveled this ancient and important road. Probably, since a caravan did not cover more than 40/42 kilometers a day, every 28 or 29 milestones there was a water well where the animals and men could drink (see my diary Uzbekistan and Turkmen

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 ibis plants. Remaining fascinated by this stupendous and desert hilly landscape, we come near the Wadi al-Mawjib (G-TCI 98), a valley more than 800 meters 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 reservoir whose water is used for agricultural purposes. We descend into the river bed, cross it and climb 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 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.

The time for the lunch stop has come; we stop at a restaurant where we find chicken, lamb, creams, pasta, rice and we enjoy a very good and tasty meat ragout. We resume the journey and, approaching Madaba (G-TCI 90), we notice that the cars have license plates of different colors; we ask Mohamud and he clears up the mystery, the plates; • White are for private vehicles; • Red are for state vehicles; • Green are for public vehicles. Once in the city of Madaba we cross it and park the coach at a parking lot for tourists. Not having read the day's program well, I cannot grasp what there is to see in this town with a rather modern appearance.

We get off the coach, walking along streets full of local craft shops where one sees carpets and mosaics; after a few minutes of walking under the scorching sun, we arrive near an enclosure; we have reached the Orthodox church of Saint George (G-TCI 91). We enter the area and adjacent to the church there is a modern building; my curiosity is rising, I understand that we are going to see a mosaic, but not having 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 the importance of this most important and admirable masterpiece; made in 600 A.D. it is the Map of the Holy Land full of religious references, and it has come down to our days. The sheer size of the mosaic is impressive, 16 by 6 meters, made with over three million tesserae.

The guide, based on the four cardinal points, illustrates the territory shown in the mosaic; one notices: 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 Saint George and on the floor adjacent to the altar, we can admire this masterpiece, which although incomplete over 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 commands a view of 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. Entry takes place passing 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 is better that you stay here". Smiling we resume our walk and shortly after, climbing 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 to infinity and observe the "promised land". On the mountain rises a church guarded 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 admirable and famous floor mosaics made in the 6th century. We take a tour of the area, a few souvenir photos and one at the iron cross that recalls the cross of Moses with which he healed those bitten by snakes in Wadi Rum.

Once the group is gathered we recite a prayer and then we go to visit the local archaeological museum where, in a tent, precious mosaics are kept. Leaving Mount Nebo as we descend, along the road we stop at a mosaic workshop. Besides being a craft shop where mosaics of every size and workmanship are made, the structure also houses a school of mosaic art. 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 adjacent cooperative has 250 workers of whom as many as 210 are "differently abled". Once the visit to the museum is over, we enter the shop, where one can admire mosaics of every shape and subject, inlaid furniture, silver jewels, wool or silk carpets, necklaces, hard-stone earrings, mosaic-worked pottery.

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 for Amman. Along the perfectly paved road that crosses the region, we see dozens of pines 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 coloring, especially at sunset when the white stone is tinged with red struck by the last rays of the sun. The extent of the city is as far as the eye can see. Amman, like Rome, rises on 7 hills; it is a modern city with shops, large shopping centers, perfectly kept roads where a flowing traffic runs.

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

Looking carefully the building appears quite dated both in interior furnishings and services; the elevators are very slow; I try to go up on foot, but it is impossible to access the service stairs, so I must wait for the elevator which slowly takes me up to my floor. While I wait for the 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, shower and I go down for dinner. In the dining room, the group gathers at three tables, the food is buffet, so one can taste what most satisfies the palate and at the end of the meal the drinks are to be paid for; the waiters ask what has been drunk, bring the receipts and ask for the money.

They bring back the change, and I notice it is wrong; I call the waiter back and have a small argument about the amount; after all, mathematics is not an opinion; in the end, after the third "clarification" the change arrives, but something is still missing. Talking with the others in the group we realize that the waiters profit on the bill. The return of the change is never as it should be! A real shame

Part Three

After dinner, we decide to stay at the hotel, but the spaces for recreational activities are truly limited. I take a stroll through various lounges and then decide, along with others, to go up to the 20th floor panoramic terrace. After a bit of a wait, we manage to take the elevator that brings us to the top of the hotel, but upon exiting we find the way blocked by a bodyguard who asks us for the pass. The pass to go where? The terrace and pool are occupied by a private party and to access them you need an invitation. We take our elevator back down to the ground floor, where buses 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 Petra books written by Fabio Bourbon, which I purchased in recent days.

The reading, the photographs, and the drawings are captivating, and the evening passes quickly, ending with a good sleep.

Part One

The alarm goes off promptly at 7:00, breakfast and then at 8:00 departure is scheduled, but the slowness of the elevators makes us a few minutes late. Once back on our bus, we head towards 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 river Alzarga Jaboc; 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 takes place the passage from Jacob/tribe to Israel/people. After the historical and religious explanations given by Mohamud and by Don Maurizio, the journey resumes towards Gerasa (G-TCI 68), where we arrive under the hot sun already high in the sky.

Leaving the bus we approach the archaeological complex of the beautiful Roman city that, buried by the desert, was rediscovered only a few centuries ago, and is still the focus of ongoing 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 by crossing 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 undergoing restoration 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 our tour of the archaeological site, we stop at a café and, as we are about to set off again, a school group arrives, marching along singing and playing flutes and drums. Fortunately they stop near the walls, so that we can access 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 departed, heading north. This vast square, 90 meters 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 Theater (G-TCI 74), made of marble, it has been restored and is preserved extraordinarily well. It has perfect acoustics and could and can hold as many as 3,500 seated spectators.

On some occasions the orchestra area was flooded and was the setting for naval performances. Inside, 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: • Saint George, built in 529 AD, shows remains of the perimeter walls with traces of the mosaic flooring; • John the Baptist, built in 531, with corner motifs recalling the four seasons; • Cosmas and Damian, built in 533, with the mosaic floor almost entirely preserved and admirable from above, where you can see floral motifs, people and Latin inscriptions. Advancing through the city, we arrive at the remains of the Cathedral with the adjoining church of Saint Theodore.

Outside the church was a small square, which was the resting place of the catechumens; usually adults on the path of religious conversion, having not yet received the sacrament of baptism, could not enter the church, and consequently they remained in the little square to listen to the religious services celebrated inside the religious building. But why so many churches so close to one another? The reason lies 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 that point a problem arose—if you wanted to celebrate a second Mass, what did you do? You needed another church, perhaps adjacent, as in this case.

Listening to the explanations given by Mohamud and by Don Maurizio, I reflect on the fascination and intensity of events that have occurred in history and I call to mind that in today's civilization many concepts are taken for granted, whereas in past times religious and daily-life customs followed a path made of rites, signs, and moments marked in time. Practices that today are losing their religious, historical and cultural meaning; it would be worth reviving and delving deeper into this culture, before it is irreparably lost. Leaving the Christian churches, we walk a few meters 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 towards the sky.

Mohamud slips among the massive columns and, having reached the base of one, stops and points out a spoon stuck into the base of the same column; the spoon moves!! In other words, the column makes an imperceptible oscillation that is highlighted by the spoon placed right at its base. Ambrogina wants to film the oscillation with the video camera; I come closer and put my hand as a reference point; I can observe that the spoon's oscillation is significant; at times it comes close to 10 centimeters. It is truly impressive to think that I am under a column about ten meters tall that oscillates continuously; perhaps it is better to look for a less "floating" spot. We leave the Temple of Artemis and, descending along the staircase on the hill, we reach the Cardo Maximus (G-TCI 75), where to 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 both sides. Walking along it we arrive at the Nymphaeum (G-TCI 77), a stunning construction dedicated to the deities of the springs, which in its day was enlivened by water fountains. Further on we reach the tetrapylon, a circular open space, the ancestor of our modern roundabouts, with the remains of ancient shops at its sides; not far away we find shops with an adjacent fountain in the shape of a cross.

I observe its orientation carefully, ask Mohamud which direction Jerusalem is in, and note that the cross is oriented towards the Holy City; could 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 towards the Arch of Hadrian, a cloud of dust rises from the hippodrome—what is happening? It looks like someone is running, it seems like a Roman chariot, but am I dreaming? Not at all, there is a show with chariot racing under way. In the stands there are tourists and in the arena you can see two chariots advancing rapidly, while at the sides extras wear Roman armor, with their purple-red cloaks. We approach to watch, but a guard motions us away, saying that if we want to attend 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 bus where the air conditioning brings some relief compared to the heat of Gerasa. The program 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 notices that the road is closed for works, so we would have to climb the final hill on foot. 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 theater of Amm

Part Two

We accept the change of program 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 specialties including rice and lamb, chicken, vegetables, sauces, fruit (the local bananas, small and tasty); I especially enjoy the eggplant with milk and the meatballs. Our tables are placed near the bread oven, where the dough is stretched as 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 place comes cheerfully to life. At the end of lunch, having seen the sign for an Italian coffee, we order one—a correct choice since the coffee is really good.

Once lunch is over we return to Amman (G-TCI 50); on board the bus we take a sightseeing tour of the capital, we see the royal palace that stands on a hill with its imposing entrance, and shortly afterwards we stop to visit the Roman amphitheater (G-TCI 56). Adjacent to the amphitheater, the museum of popular traditions 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 jewelry, hard-stone necklaces, face covers (for women), weapons, mosaics and wool artifacts for daily use. In the folklore museum I can carefully look at the reconstruction of Bedouin tents, firearms and bladed weapons; the reconstruction of the shops of the coffee seller, the shoemaker, the pottery maker; the interiors of dwellings are also reproduced.

In other rooms are displayed tools for working the land, those for making baskets, the grain mill, wool processing. While inside glass cases are brass glasses, pottery, dishes, books and perfume flasks. Leaving the museums and entering the theater, I climb the steep staircase to enjoy the view from above; my eye ranges over the city and the imposing theater can hold 7,000 spectators. Once the visit is over we return towards the hotel where some decide to stop; with part of the group I continue, still by bus, to a bazaar where they sell souvenirs, silver and gold jewelry, fabrics, ceramics and Dead Sea products; some of the group, clearly, make purchases. Once the shopping is done, we return to the hotel, dinner, and this evening I am very careful with the rest of the waiters—in fact I pay with all the small coins I have available to avoid other "swindles" like the previous evening.

After dinner, since the available spaces are limited, some decide to go to their room to play cards, some try to call Italy, and I with a small group try to take a little stroll outside the hotel; we walk 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 bus, 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 invitation, resumes telling us about Jordan; the healthcare system is national, organized in a series of not very clean clinics where basic care is guaranteed; consequently private treatment is definitely better. The main hospital care is 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 many Palestinians who have emigrated, while the labor force is provided by Egyptians who come here to work because of the extremely favorable exchange rate. While we travel towards our morning destination, we arrive near the enormous Arabian depression, the depression at whose bottom lies the Dead Sea. Arriving at zero elevation above sea level, the bus stops and we take advantage of it 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 kilometers long and a few dozen wide.

During the stop, thanks to Mohamud's directions, we can observe Mount Nebo which we saw yesterday, the hills of Jerusalem and 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 area, 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 cut off the supply of fresh water, creating two problems: • the constant increase in salinity; • the decrease in 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 rent towels and head towards the sea, eager to experience this water that, 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 wet yourself 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 difficult feat 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 realize that the stony bottom has become muddy and, walking on it, we sink 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 even a short treatment, the skin feels smoother and more velvety to the touch; Dead Sea mud really does have therapeutic properties. While we are doing the mud or bathing, someone has the misfortune of getting the water in their eyes; they must get out of the salt water immediately and hurry under the shower to rinse 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 deposited on the water's edge. Once the stop at the sea is over, it is lunchtime; we eat buffet-style, and then, coasting along the Dead Sea, we head towards the border with Israel; along the way we pass fields cultivated with eggplants, cabbages, zucchini, tomatoes, and near the border we find banana and citrus plantations. Remarkable, imposing and widespread is the irrigation system of the countryside; bundles of pipes run alongside the roadway and then disperse into the arid, dry, sun-scorched countryside, carrying the precious liquid that allows cultivation and life. We arrive at the border shortly before 13:30; we must be precise and quick because, due to a holiday, the border closes at 14:00.

Mohamud collects the passports with 5 € for the exit stamp and then goes to customs to handle all the necessary procedures for exiting: after some time spent under the desert sun, Mohamud returns with our passports complete with the collective visa for leaving Jordan. We say goodbye to Mohamud, who cannot accompany us as far as the Israeli border, and with only the bus driver we head towards 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 pass over the recently built bridge dedicated to King Hussein of Jordan, and then, after skirting desert hills strewn 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—it is the border post where our entry into Israel awaits us. We can get off the bus and collect our luggage, then in single file and armed with our passports, we begin the checks; the luggage is taken by the agents who inspect it, while we queue up to enter customs; the check-in is very rigorous, nothing metallic whatsoever gets through, I have to remove my jacket, my waist pack and every metal object I am wearing.

When a woman passes, a detector keeps beeping; no one understands why but the agents are getting a bit nervous; after a few attempts the cause is discovered: the metal hairpins. I have never seen such rigor. We are about to get our 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 printed on a separate paper, to be attached to the passport—nothing doing, the customs officers are inflexible, every passport must be stamped; Ambrogina and Giorgio try to avoid having their passports stamped, the head of the agents arrives, an argument ensues, and in the end all the passports are stamped. We discover that an internal directive means that since the beginning of 2008 all passports must be stamped and the possibility of having a visa attached 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 exit, but there is yet another check to pass; Tonina is stopped; there appears to be a numerical discrepancy between ticket and stamp, a mistake was made in writing at customs and she has to go back to the customs officers for the necessary correction. Finally, after quite some time, we get our suitcases back and

Part Two

We find a man in his fifties 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, though a great convenience for understanding the language. After loading our suitcases onto the bus, 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 kilometers 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 are the Israelis, while on the eastern side are the Muslims (Palestinians), and the whole thing is divided, as we will see later, by enormous, hideous, imposing separating walls.

After a short journey, we arrive in Jerusalem; a destination so longed for, 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 their historical events, because they witnessed the Passion of Jesus. Following an easy paved road we reach the top of a hill where we stop and get off the bus; we are on the Mount of Olives, and it is the ideal starting point for accessing Jerusalem; you can 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 Chapel of the Ascension (I-TCI 115), one of the three places built by Saint Helena, which are: • The Chapel of the True Cross at the Holy Sepulchre; • The Nativity in Bethlehem; • The Chapel of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives. Located within a walled plot, the structure, built by the Crusaders, was remodeled by the Mamluks. At the center of the building there is a rock with an imprint resembling a foot. By tradition, this is considered the place of Jesus' Ascension. The octagonal structure has a deep symbolic meaning; the eighth is the first day after the week that has passed, which means continuity.

We leave the Chapel of the Ascension and, following a downhill road, we arrive at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart with the adjacent cloister of the Our Father (I-TCI 115); inside the building there is a white limestone grotto, 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 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 location that was chosen for its constant breeziness, ideal for threshing grain. King David founded the city and Solomon expanded 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 golden dome of the mosque of Qubbet es-Sakhra, also called the mosque of Omar, the place where Muhammad ascended to heaven. Higher up, Sergio points out to us the bell towers of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, with Golgotha, the place of Jesus' crucifixion, which in his time stood at the edge of the city, while now it is completely engulfed. We are above the Kidron Valley, in the places where Jesus lived the week of the Passion.

The panoramic point stands at the edge of a vast Jewish cemetery with very strong significance; Jewish tradition holds that on the day of resurrection, the first dead to rise will be those buried beneath the walls of Jerusalem, then those resting in the Kidron Valley, and finally all the others; therefore these deceased should be among the first to be resurrected. Leaving the panoramic point, we descend along a steep road that leads us near a gate; Sergio rings the bell and, despite the approach of closing time, the guardian lets us in: we are at the Franciscan church of Dominus Flevit (I-TCI 115), the place where Jesus wept thinking of the future destruction of the city, which occurred in 70 AD and which also saw the destruction of the Temple. From the garden we can continue to admire the landscape over the city, and inside we see a grotto with ossuaries dating back to the Roman era.

The church, modern, is shaped like a tear, a slender structure of unique charm, where the light passing through the glass creates fine plays of light, with the altar placed exactly in front of the mosque of Omar. Outside, a Byzantine mosaic from the 7th century presents one of the rarest figures to find: the shell, symbol of the early Christians. Leaving Dominus Flevit we go to visit the immense Jewish cemetery that occupies an entire side of the Mount of Olives. Here we can notice how Jewish tombs have no photos and flowers; only stones placed on the tomb indicate the memory of someone's visit. Descending from the Mount of Olives near the Kidron Valley, we reach the Garden of Gethsemane (I-TCI 116), the place where the oil for the Temple services was originally prepared; it is the place where, while the apostles slept, Jesus prayed.

Here there are olive trees with enormous trunks, and they are said to be over 2,000 years old. We enter to visit the adjacent church of All Nations (I-TCI 116) where, in front of the main altar, there is the Rock of the Agony, the stone on which Jesus sweat blood. The church, designed by an Italian Franciscan friar, is decorated with ceiling mosaics, and on the side walls there are stained-glass windows. The mosaic façade is very beautiful. Once the first tour of Jerusalem is over we head towards the hotel; we arrive and are welcomed with a welcome cocktail. While the suitcases are being unloaded, I stop to talk with Sergio and discover that, a native of Turin, he worked for years as a photojournalist, then as a journalist, and finally, settling in Jerusalem, he became a tour guide; it is nice to converse with a cultured, calm, respectful person, with his unmistakable and pleasant style.

Sergio warns us that we are on the Saturday of the Jewish Passover and therefore, as tradition dictates, tomorrow is the day of the very important feast, and even though the hotel is international, the Jewish custom of using unleavened bread is respected. We are assigned our rooms, we collect our suitcases, shower and then dinner; as predicted we find the unleavened bread, that is, bread made without yeast; rectangular crackers that resemble crispbread. A tasty food that can be paired with any dish. After dinner we decide to go out for a stroll in the historic center of the city; we pick up some maps in the hotel lobby, go out and begin heading towards the old part of the city, but with the maps we picked up we have a lot of trouble orienting ourselves.

We ask for directions and shortly afterwards we reach the Damascus Gate, we enter the old city and, following the alleys, we find ourselves in the market where the shops are closing; only a few businesses are still open—some cobblers, some butchers and a few shops selling photographic items. Here there is no set schedule; shopkeepers can open and close whenever they want, but one thing is certain: the more hours they stay open, the more business they do.

Part Three

We want to go and see the church of the Holy Sepulchre, but we don't know where to go; we have someone explain the way and we take an uphill alley, then 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 in the evening are closed. Quite tired, we return towards 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 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 towards other destinations.

Part One

The hotel alarm doesn't go off; fortunately I 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: guidebook, camera, bag, water. The meeting point is in the lobby, where we all gather on time. The first destination of the day is Bethlehem, in Palestine or the West Bank. We arrive near 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 can be seen in these things too; in Palestine we will have another guide.

Shortly afterwards we reach the border between Israel and Palestine; an enormous, imposing, grim concrete wall rises towards the sky and divides the two nations; the houses that stand nearby have it just a few meters away—if they are not right up against that impressive gray wall. The barrier is truly immense, equipped with floodlights and topped with an enormous amount of barbed wire, with armored watchtowers at regular intervals. The cut this divider makes through the city is impressive; here we really are in a fortified world; at customs the checkpoints are delimited by fences covered in barbed wire. We are stopped, we don't proceed, we don't understand why, then we see someone approaching; it's the peace marathon. There are many people with cameras, video cameras; finally the torch arrives with the Olympic flag and many people following it.

We pass through customs and our guide for Palestine gets on the bus; he speaks halting Italian and tells us a bit about his land. The Palestinians currently live in the poorest and most arid part of Judea, while the fertile part, breezy and with water, has been kept by the Israelis; to them they gave the part that faces the Arabian depression, the sun-scorched, desert, uncultivable part. We stop at a Christian shop to buy handicrafts in olive wood; some objects are well made, with 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: won't the wall also be a division of religions? On one side the Jews and on the other the Muslims, with a limited minority of Christians? Having left the shop, in a short time we reach Bethlehem and stop in a modern parking area suitable for the bus; we leave the building, follow a road that winds up the hill and shortly we arrive at a square where, on one side, stands the Basilica of the Nativity (I-TCI 241). The church has a curious feature; 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 so as not to hit your head.

A sign of respect for the holy place, or just a defense? In the Orthodox church, whose interior appears dark and neglected, with beautiful mosaics on the floor, there is great confusion, disorder and a lot of crowding due to the people present; a religious ceremony is under way and the altar is full of people. Those who want to go and see the grotto of the Nativity must queue 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 service in progress—besides an excessive use of incense and candles, during the service bread is distributed. Finally, after much pushing and some arguments with the popes (the Orthodox priests), we manage to reach the grotto of the Nativity. At the point 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 under way with Gregorian chants dating back to Saint Ambrose; Don Maurizio, being a great connoisseur 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, sturdy iron grilles on their windows. We leave the center of Bethlehem and with the bus head to the outskirts, to the Field of the Shepherds, where a modern and pretty church adorned with frescoes stands. Not far away there is a grotto, now transformed into a church; legend has it that this is where the shepherds who visited Jesus stayed. Indeed these grottos, because of their shape, 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 resins given off by the plants fills the lungs with fresh, pleasant air to breathe. We get back on the bus, follow the road towards the border and pass near the enormous separation wall between the two states, which appears in all its tragic manifestation. Finally we stop for the lunch break; the place is partially decorated for a wedding, the preparations for the decorations are under way 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; in fact, being in Palestine, the week of the Jewish Passover is not observed.

While I have 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 even though these are the days of the Jewish Passover, fresh bread is easily available in the shops of the Muslim and Christian quarter. Once lunch is over we head towards the border and pass through a valley area where the construction of the imposing wall has been suspended and there are "only" wire fences and a border station. The checks are meticulous, but being a tourist bus we can cross into Israel fairly quickly. Here we meet up again with Sergio, who waited for us during our visit to Palestine. We head to the suburbs of Jerusalem, we arrive in 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 there is a fountain whose water is very cool; being 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 states that this is the typical landscape of the land of Judea, where the Israelites arrived at the end of their exodus that lasted a full 40 years. What they found was the promised land, the land flowing with milk and honey; indeed the milk came from the goats and the honey came from the 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, following a paved road with steps, we climb the hill and at the top we arrive at an iron gate that gives access to the Church of the Visitation (I-TCI 82); in the courtyard adjacent to the church, on terracotta panels hung on the enclosing wall, contain

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 a little, and then, after greeting us, each of us resumes his own tour; finding Italians is always a pleasure when you are in a foreign land. We enter the lower part of the building, which features 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 the prayer of a group from an Eastern European country ends, 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, we reach 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 that 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. Returning 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 in the Temple that, taken by the Romans as war booty, was brought to Rome, and the fact 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 follow the road that runs beneath the ancient and mighty white limestone walls and, having reached a parking area, we stop. We get off the bus and on foot we pass through an entrance gate to the city. We are about to enter the area where the Wailing Wall stands. The checks are rigorous; we line up in single file and one at a time we pass under the metal detector to be able to access the square.

The Wailing Wall, so called because the 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 square; divided into two parts, whose right part is reserved for women and the left part for men. The women go to their area, while with Sergio we enter the men's area where I can observe the people arriving; it is obligatory to have one's head covered with a hat or the "kippa"; that is, the classic head covering, in various colors, generally in cotton, that covers the occipital region of the head, used by Jews and often fastened to the hair with a hairpin. For those who do not have their head covered, at the entrance to the Wailing Wall plaza there are disposable paper kippas to put on.

We enter the area which, on the occasion of the Passover feast, is particularly equipped with tables covered by a velvety fabric that reproduces the figure of the destroyed Temple. Walking beside the tables we reach the vicinity of the Wailing Wall, where there are worshippers praying; Sergio heads towards a tunnel that opens to the left of the Wall and we enter it: inside there are cabinets with a great many books; the faithful enter, take a book, sit near the wall and immerse themselves in reading. In the room there are scrolls of tanned sheepskin written by hand and available to anyone. The reading of

Part One

Wake-up at 7:00. At breakfast I realize it's the Saturday of Jewish Passover; no food is cooked, everything is accompanied by the usual unleavened bread. At 8:15 we depart for Mount Zion, located on the outskirts of Jerusalem. On the mount stands a Jewish quarter built in 1948 when the State of Israel was established; the quarter was rebuilt in 1966, and today it presents itself as very crowded with magnificent views over the city and among the houses of the quarter itself. As we walk, we smell the aroma of freshly baked bread in the air—but aren't we in the Saturday of Jewish Passover? We head toward the shop and find the baker baking bread; being an Arab, he doesn't celebrate the holiday, so he's working as usual—a good reason to buy and taste some fresh bread.

Walking around Mount Zion, we find part of the walls dating back to 700 B.C., built by Hezekiah; this is the only point where the ancient walls of the city are visible. Continuing the tour, we arrive in the Armenian quarter where we visit the Cathedral of St. James (I-TCI 94) of the Armenian/Orthodox Patriarchate. Passing through the entrance door, we access the Court of the Patriarchs and then reach the church. The main portal is covered by a cloth; having moved it aside, we can enter the church where a religious service is in progress. We stand in a corner of the church and watch the celebration; we see the Patriarch, all decked out with a crown on his head, conducting the liturgy, and the prayer chanted 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 hang paintings with gilded wooden frames; the vault appears gray and dirty, the work of the smoke from the dozens of candles that are perpetually lit. While I observe the architecture of the church, the religious service continues; there are clerics wearing a reddish vestment, and the religious wear a black tunic with a wrapping headpiece from which only the face emerges. Leaving the cathedral, we continue on foot in the city tour and arrive at the Church of the Dormition of Mary (I-TCI 119), a place where the differences between 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 took place.

The structure is maintained by Austrian and German Franciscans, and the Teutonic influence is noticeable not only in the rigor of the environment but also in the imposing organ present in the church. Having visited the church and the crypt with the statue of the Dormant Mary, we leave the complex and head toward the Cenacle (I-TCI 119), the place of the Last Supper and of Jesus' appearance at Pentecost. The current structure is divided into two parts: we enter the upper one, where 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 well. Over the centuries and under various dominations, 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 the bread, fruit of the earth," 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," takes the bread, dips it in the wine, and eats it. While listening to Sergio, a thought spontaneously comes to me: today is the Saturday of Jewish Passover, and we find ourselves in the Holy Places; could it be a coincidence? We exit the upper part and access 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 granted exclusively to men who may only visit the tomb with their heads covered; here too I find people praying, reading, and/or studying the sacred books. Leaving the Cenacle while heading to the bus, we find a vendor of sweets made from dried fruit. If it's true that the eye wants its part, the palate certainly demands its own; the stall is stormed by the Italians who don't want to miss out on these delicacies. Heading toward the parking area, we can admire the panorama of the old city, where the golden roof of the Mosque of Omar shines. Then by bus we go to the Church of St.

Peter in Gallicantu (I-TCI 119), and here, as we approach the church, Franca meets a group of Italians—acquaintances of hers, actually a relative of hers originally from Rovello who long ago moved to Lainate, a small town near Milan; the world really is small sometimes!! The church stands where the house of Caiaphas, the high priest, was located, where Jesus was brought to be interrogated 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"), hence the name "Gallicantu"; here we stop to recite a Psalm. Having visited the structure, we board the bus again and 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 at the time of the Romans, a very instructive edition for understanding daily life of 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 travel through a stretch of desert and then arrive at an oasis of palm trees; it's beautiful to see so much green in the middle of the desert, and continuing through 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 land contributed to its name, "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 well-prepared; the French fries and pizza are a success. We are offered a bottle of white wine; it's a bold and tasty wine produced and bottled in Bethlehem. After lunch, I take a stroll through the bazaar adjacent to the restaurant, and among many souvenirs I spot some valuable publications with drawings made by English artists in the 19th century depicting Petra and the Arab world, but due to the size of the publications and their weight, knowing my suitcase is full, I give up buying them.

I leave the restaurant, and in the hotel's square there are stalls where I buy dates and sycamore fruits to take home. Once 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 rises in the middle of the desert on the shores of the Dead Sea, 20 km from Jericho; it became known in 1947 for the discovery of the "Dead Sea Scrolls," manuscripts dating back to the 1st century B.C. 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 due to the lack of humidity in the place; they were

Part Two

brought back to light, but for a long time no importance was given to them, until the creation of the State of Israel, which managed to purchase them. Today they are visible in a specially climate-controlled structure built in Jerusalem. The scrolls found in the cylindrical jars were wrapped in linen, written on parchment with ink made from coal dust; they include 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 B.C.; the place was later destroyed by the Romans in the 1st century A.D.

In the archaeological site today you can see the water collection cisterns and 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 are also 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 rising in the middle of the desert and explains that here, exploiting the brackish water present in the aquifers, they are starting to cultivate vegetables, fruit, and greens; a possibility for being able to live in this inhospitable, desert, and salty area. On the way back we stop in the village of Bethany (I-TCI 116), located 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 service.

A squabble ensues with the calm and reasonable Sergio, but this stubborn Franciscan won't 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 represents the true personification of the popular saying: "give an ignoramus a railwayman'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 it has never been historically found, we ask for information and are told that it's a tomb dating back to the Roman period, so it could similarly be the tomb of Jesus' friend. We pay the entrance fee and, climbing a staircase carved into the mountain rock, we reach what was once a sepulcher.

Coming back to the surface, we return to the hotel by bus; it's about 6:00 PM, and dinner is at 7:30 PM; the menu is a repeat of the previous two evenings; there's no imagination in the kitchen. For after dinner, Sergio has organized an evening sightseeing tour of the city's suburbs; we leave the hotel and, skirting 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, and the Temple Mount are all well lit; what better occasion to set up the tripod and take night 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 evacuated), we skirt the ancient walls until

a fork, where we take a road that leads 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, 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 stunning view of Jerusalem and the surrounding region, with a view that reaches as far as the Dead Sea. Afterwards we take a short walk in the new quarter, where we are welcomed by the scent given off by the blooming oleanders and jasmines. At one point, Sergio points out a church bell tower that depicts Kaiser Wilhelm; a truly singular reproduction, visible only under the moonlight.

Then he accompanies us to see other views of Jerusalem, the old walls, some gardens, small alleys among the houses where it's evocative to walk among the flowering pots, among the lit windows of the houses, among the scent of food; the Jewish Passover celebrations are about to begin. We leave this area and head toward another part of the quarter where a lighted windmill stands; then, boarding the bus again, we return to the hotel with the view of enchanting nighttime Jerusalem in our eyes. We go to bed shortly before 11:00 PM.

Part One

Wake-up at 7:00. Today is Sunday and it's Jewish Passover, and as tradition dictates, breakfast is without cooked food and with unleavened bread. At 8:15 we are ready for the planned tour of Jerusalem; today we will walk quite a bit through the alleys and narrow streets of this fascinating and cosmopolitan city. I start the day with great emotion and curiosity for what we will see; I am 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, to be able to walk again through the alleys, the hills, and find the references faithfully reproduced on the ancient mosaic. Having boarded the bus, we set off and, after passing the Kidron Valley, we stop beneath the ancient walls and head toward the entrance that leads to the Temple Mount (I-TCI 100).

Access to the esplanade is through the square of the Western Wall, where we can see many faithful praying near the Western Wall, some with the help of the tables we saw in 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 access the Temple Mount. The place is linked to very important episodes of the Christian and Muslim religions; in fact, here occurred: • the sacrifice of Isaac; • the appearance of the angel to David; • the night journey of the Prophet. As for the origin of the Temple, there are no archaeological sources other than the Bible. Here, around 1,000 B.C., David had the Ark of the Covenant transported, and a few decades later Solomon had the first Temple erected.

A vast space within which stood the actual Temple, rectangular, divided into three zones: vestibule, Holy, and Holy of Holies. The latter building was a cubic hall covered in gold and housed the Ark of the Covenant. A short distance away was placed a gigantic bronze altar reserved for sacrifices. The Temple stood until the invasion of Nebuchadnezzar (586 B.C.). The Jews, having returned to their homeland, built a second Temple (around 500 B.C.), which, though poorer than the previous one, followed the plan of Solomon's. In the Holy 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 had disappeared in the destruction of the first Temple. In 20 B.C., Herod, for political prestige, decided to completely renovate the Temple.

Completed in 64 A.D., it had pharaonic dimensions; it defined the current structure of the esplanade, had a height difference of over 50 meters, and was surrounded by underground halls. Trapezoidal in shape, surrounded by mighty walls, it had the northwest 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, and Holy of Holies.

In 70 A.D., 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 moreover they are also forbidden access to the area since it is a desecrated sacred place. Having destroyed the Temple, the Romans erected a temple to Jupiter, which was then demolished by Constantine. In 638, Caliph Omar went up to the esplanade to pray on the rock of Isaac's sacrifice. He had the hill cleared of debris and built a small mosque. Subsequently the two currently existing mosques were built, and the Mosque of Omar was built in the place where tradition holds that Muhammad, on his winged mare Buraq, 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 most famous 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 directions. During the Crusader period, this mosque was transformed into a church with the name "Templum Domini," and from here originated the knightly order of the Templars.

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

We walk around the Esplanade—what better place for photos: of the group, of the architecture, and of the beautiful and colorful 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 now is a piece of the suq where only a few stalls have kept their original character unchanged. From here, through a checkpoint, we access the square of the Western Wall; the place is crowded with faithful praying. Remembering that for Jews it's a holiday, so no work activity should be done, I leave my notebook and camera in their place. We exit the gate and, walking along the walls counterclockwise, we pass in front of some archaeological excavations where the ancient entrance to the Temple stood.

We are in the Kidron Valley, and at the valley floor, carved into the rock, there are four massive 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 easily identify the Garden of Gethsemane, the Jewish cemetery, the Dominus Flevit, and the Chapel of the Ascension. We continue walking along the walls counterclockwise until we spot an entrance gate; we are at the eastern entrance of the city: the Lions' Gate, so called because of the statues present on the facade of the gate. We pass through the gate and, after a few meters, reach the Church of St. Anne (I-TCI 107); it is the best-preserved Crusader church and 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 Roman pool of Bethesda; in this place Jesus healed the lame man. Close to the pool one can see the remains of a Byzantine church that originally covered the entire site. A short distance from the Church of St. Anne, we visit the Franciscan Convent of the Flagellation; originally here was the Hagora, the common square placed in front of the Antonia Fortress. In the place 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 up to Golgotha, the site 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 Via Crucis winds through the Arab market; here and there on the walls of the houses is the cross indicating a station. People walk and pray; pilgrims walk the Via Dolorosa, in the middle of the market from which aromas of food come, where shops of every kind are seen, but all with the utmost respect for people and religions. At a certain point Sergio leaves the road and invites us to enter a building; it's a hotel run by German-speaking Franciscan friars. We go up to the roof and from here we can admire a unique panorama of the city. We go back down to the street and quickly reach the eighth station, which was placed where at the time of Jesus the city walls ended; the ninth station is positioned where at noon the bells ring in celebration.

Continuing along the Via Crucis, we arrive at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and here, the greatest place 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 representations that over the centuries has seen notable and bloody disputes. To avoid yet more quarrels, the opening and closing of the gates that give 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 St. Michael, which, located 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 placed to the right of the entrance; the staircase spirals upward and in a short time brings us to Golgotha. The place is extremely crowded; I can barely take photos. There is a huge line to access the point where the cross was placed. While some in the group are standing in line, noises come from the church below; it's an Orthodox procession. Sergio informs us that today is a particular day; it's the coincidence of Jewish and Orthodox Passover. From above, we admire the procession presided over by the Patriarch; a disorderly procession, where clerics with banners or candelabras move about chaotically, chatting among themselves. This procession unexpectedly creates a positive side: there are few people on Golgotha.

I take advantage of it and get in line myself, and within a few minutes I am at the site of the crucifixion, which, placed beneath an altar, can only be touched by kneeling and inserting one's hand into the hole of the star present there. Given the sparse presence of people, I start taking photographs, seeking the best framing, also making use of the faint light created by the candles, when from the church below voices and shouts come. 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's happening, suddenly the entrance door swings open; a squad of Jewish police officers in riot gear enters and, using their batons, makes their way through the crowd and quickly heads toward the Holy Sepulchre. I am stunned by such an episode, especially because I am in a place that should be considered with the utmost respect. During the procession there were tensions between the Orthodox and some other group, then it all degenerated into a furious brawl "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.

Descending from Golgotha, we head to an Orthodox church located at a lower level; through the Chapel of St. 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 that contains the Sepulchre where the body of Jesus was buried. There are a great many people in line, and only four people enter at a time; the entrance and the duration of stay are controlled by some Orthodox priests. Given the time, we decide to skip visiting the interior and go to lunch.

Lunch takes place in a Lebanese restaurant, where among other things we taste excellent lamb rolls, and here we are joined by agency staff who present us with a gift; they also provide us with the "certificate of the pilgrim in 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 plants, mallows, olive trees, rosemary, and lavender, one has an enchanting view of the southern part of Jerusalem, another opportunity to immortalize the city.

We set off by bus toward the hotel, and since the program doesn't include anything, three options are decided: • return to the hotel by bus; • the possibility of going to eat gelato; • return on foot, strolling through the old city. I opt for the third solution, and with Natalia I delve into the suq and start touring it, observing the various shops present. At a certain point, crossing the Via Dolorosa, the idea strikes us to go to the Holy Sepulchre. In a few minutes we are in the church, which is half-deserted 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 in progress, the great and very colorful central ceiling.

Then, leaving, 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 without interruption over several hills, but what must it have looked like at the time of Jesus? Which roads did Jesus walk? Where were the buildings mentioned in the Bible located? Questions I have asked myself and that only through accurate research have I managed to unravel. At the time of Jesus, Jerusalem appeared as a fortified Roman city where one entered only through entrance and exit gates. Inside, a main street crossed it almost completely, 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 the Palace of Herod, the political center of the city.

The Antonia Fortress, located to the north, occupied an area of 7,000 square meters 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 in its courtyards sacrifices were offered to God. Among the numerous rules governing ritual sacrifice, the animal 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 waited for it to open to access the Court of the Israelites.

Part Three

From there, they could observe the complete ritual of the sacrifice, see the priests in charge burning 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 composed 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, spaces for people and animals, and for most of the year daily life took place outdoors, in the courtyards and on the flat rooftops of the houses. Each village was surrounded by fields cultivated with wheat, vines, cotton, and olive groves.

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

Part One

The cell phone rings at 5:15; at 5:30 the meeting is scheduled in the hotel lobby; we daring ones are all punctual and we set off for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. By now we know the road; in a short time we reach the Damascus Gate, making our way through the alleys of the old city, and quickly we arrive at the entrance gate of the church, which is open; so we enter the religious building a few minutes before 6:00. The interior is half-empty, some of the inner chapels are still closed, so we head straight for the Holy Sepulchre, where we already find a line; they are the faithful waiting to be able to enter the Holy Sepulchre. The Holy Masses have long since been booked; access is granted to small groups in accordance with the priority order. We reach the Holy Sepulchre and are observing how the access works, 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 random way, manage to get in to attend Holy Mass. The structure of the Holy Sepulchre consists of two clearly 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 the centuries. We find ourselves with a group of Germans and the Holy Mass, clearly, is in German; they remain a little stunned by 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 with force; the Franciscan friar guarding the building, with brutal and impertinent violence, brings the Holy Mass to an end and literally, with sheer force, 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. Behavior like this 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 taking photos. Those who argue that these historical complexes should be turned into enormous museums, visitable by everyone, following a well-established route, are perfectly 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 carrying all kinds of merchandise, vehicles that I have never seen during the daytime hours; at most I had noticed carts and donkeys loaded with goods moving about. Given the favorable hour, we decide to visit the plaza 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 plaza of the Western Wall below and the Temple Mount above. Captivated by so much beauty, we decide to go down to the plaza, but before entering we have to pass the strict police checks; nothing gets past the metal detector.

To get through I have to take off my backpack and my jacket, which, having metal zippers, sets off the precise detector, and as in all the previous checks, both the backpack and the jacket are carefully searched. After the check we enter the plaza, where we see a great many faithful in prayer, and at this hour it seems that the religiosity is greater than what we saw earlier; I look at my watch, it is 7:10 and the place is full of the faithful. 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 faithful who, dressed in black and with their head coverings, are praying; it is a unique sensation to experience and difficult to describe because of the religiosity one feels.

We remain in silence admiring so much faith, and then, seeing that breakfast time and our appointment with the rest of the group are approaching, we decide to leave the place and head for the hotel. We leave the plaza, passing through the checkpoint, then we make our way into the suq, where we find many shops opening, the supply vans completing their work; wandering through the Arab quarter, we savor 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 the 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 newly risen sun illuminates it with its rays; the stone of the walls is taking on a warm color that I interpret as a greeting and at the same time as an ardent invitation to return to this wonderful, unique, cosmopolitan city, which, though with its contradictions and conflicts, remains, in my humble opinion, a city without equal for the charm it emanates. 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 ready for airport check-in, so they must be prepared with care and only a little merchandise can remain in the hand luggage.

We load the luggage onto the coach, and before leaving this enchanting city, Sergio, since we are extremely punctual, takes us to the plaza of the Mount of Olives for a last view of the city, which, illuminated by the morning sun, appears in a completely new light, where the limestone rock of the walls is tinged with pinkish colors. A few souvenir photos and then we set off for Tel Aviv; leaving Jerusalem we drive through soft, green hills, and while the coach speeds along the road, the gaze is lost in the colors of the cultivated fields. I reflect on the fact that here everything is lush, and after just a few kilometers, 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 when Augusto is stopped and asked for his passport; because of his dark complexion he was mistaken for an Arab and therefore checked. I am in line when a female soldier comes by for the passport check; I hand it over and she, seeing it a little damaged in the binding and showing 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 luggage inspection, where the suitcases, placed in an optical reader, are analyzed by the machine, which decides whether they can be checked in directly or must undergo manual inspection. Most of the suitcases are subjected to manual inspection; here the checks really are extremely strict.

Time passes and the checks continue; every suitcase is opened and examined minutely; someone has gone to do the check-in and informed them that most of the luggage is being checked; surely they must be used to this wait. Finally we all manage to get to the check-in, we check in the suitcases and get our boarding passes. We head toward our gate, and once we have dropped off the hand luggage, whoever wants to can take a little walk around the immense airport structure, where in the duty free there are a great many shops. It is 12:30, the moment of boarding arrives, we count ourselves but... someone from the group is missing; a quick dash to the shops, we find them and at the last moment they are boarded; at 13:30, punctually, we take off from Tel Aviv bound for Malpensa; the captain informs us that it is raining in Milan.

Part Two

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

I was an eyewitness to it; I cut out the little piece of newspaper and put 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 organized and the suitcases emptied, I begin to transcribe the notes written during this historic, religious, cultural journey that has surely left in me "marks" that will be indelible over time.

Three reasons to make the Exodus journey

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

• Traveling 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 whole, shaping unrepeatable beauties.

• Ending the journey in Jerusalem, a city that rises in the "Promised Land," means gaining access to a cosmopolitan reality where it is possible to observe daily life made up of a melting pot of ethnicities, religions and cultures that coexist with one another; an example to make one's own and to export, in the hope 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 the realization of such a beautiful and fascinating journey; rich in historical, cultural and naturalistic places but also imbued with 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 producing this diary.

A special thanks to: • Don Maurizio Corbetta, Parish Priest of Rovello Porro (CO), creator of the journey. • The travel agency Alohatour of Pavia ( - tel. 0382.5395.65) for the overall organization. • The tour operator Antichi Splendori of Turin ( - tel. 011.8126.715) for the well-structured program and for the useful information provided. • Mohamud and Sergio, the guides for Jordan and Israel, for the high professionalism they 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 volunteer 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 paths. He has obtained results and appreciation from companies and from the associative world, where he has collaborated in research, selection, training and motivation of personnel. He is currently involved in multiple activities, both for companies and for associations, for which he consolidates existing paths and develops new ones, always earning broad approval and high regard from everyone.

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

He has drafted 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