17 Nov 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
11/17 Haifa, Israel
We discovered that the prior day’s information was incorrect. There were no boats leaving today. We got our Sabbath’s mixed up again. We had already packed everything up and trekked the long walk down to the docks. At first I had doubt that anybody was talking straight. I always had to ask a few to get some comfort in confirmation. We managed to gather numerous alike answers and concluded that we were stuck there another day, fuck. I would have preferred spending another day in Jerusalem or on a trek to Petra. We cruised through the local shops and picked up groceries to make sandwiches. I wasn’t planning on sitting down to another episode of Kumbaya. We settled down in a garden just below the hostel. It was a sunny day and we just lounged around and caught up on our journals and post cards. A whole new group had gathered out in front excited about the free meal. We knew better and decided to hit up some of the local bars instead. The bars in Haifa not only catered to the American military they were filled to the brim with them. Nothing against our military but some of the questions and conversations left a lot to be desired. I hadn’t traveled all the way there to talk about the Yankees. Well, we did meet a few new faces but all in all, I considered that day a total waste of time.
I’ve always hated being late so we headed out a bit early that next morning. There was no way I would miss that boat. We went through the same kind of Customs crap we did while entering. I spent the day out on the deck sewing that shirt together just to pass the time, cause in the end it’s just a Halloween costume? Like last time we had five hours to roam Cyprus. We spent some time along the shore but end up burning the time in a small café drinking. We passed through the duty free to satisfy Jenni’s fix for Malibu rum and orange juice. We were then joined by a couple from Germany, not together, an Englishman heading back home and an Israeli on leave from his military service. We passed around the rum and some hash added by the Englishman. It was a beautiful evening. The stars were so bright and the sky was so black. We lay out on the deck, gazed up at them and traded stories of traveling and our respective homes.
Many a night I stare at the stars, it steals away my breath,
taking my thoughts, away as far through the halls of life and death
Hours I’ve spent beneath this sea, knowing so many before,
have known these thoughts that dwell in me and touched upon these shores
Have you ever stopped to wonder, where it stops, or where it ends,
have you ever stopped to ponder, where it all begins
Many a night I stare at the stars and think about such things,
so many and all so far, yet I reach they in my dreams.
So many things my eyes can’t see, though inside I know they’re there,
more endless, than the open sea, when I glance at space and stare
Have you ever stopped to wonder, where it stops, or where it ends,
have you ever stopped to ponder, where it all begins
Just about the time the hash kicked in the crew of the ship decided to practice safety drills. I could blame my perspective on the hash but that crew looked more like Laurel and Hardy times twenty. Following Jenni’s address book we had decided on Rhoads as our next destination. She had an address of an elderly lady who hopefully would accommodate us for the night, perhaps share her knowledge of the area and suggest places we should visit.
