Flights overseas don’t bother me… flights wedged, cramped and annoyed next to two men Obama-bashing loudly next to me for hours overseas, do. Also non-vegetarian putty-like pasta slathered in salted red sauce. Also, my Happy Sack (slippers, sweater, toothbrush, toothpaste, lotion and headband)- banished to the very deep recesses of the overhead bin, not to be found until landing. I thought I was brilliant to pack it until it was buried during the hustle of boarding.

Meeting Christina and her son Finn in Atlanta was pretty awesome though; reunited friends. That and seeing a few trickles of would-be Bethsaida bound folks on board. Landing in Tel-Aviv was typically a little nutty; the passport control officer thought I said I was coming to Israel on a Date, not a Dig, and was appropriately bewildered. We then chuckled as to who would merit such a journey, she stamped my passport and I was off to meet the group. Some poor souls headed to Bethsaida had already spent over eight hours in the airport. I paid 16 shekels for a crappy diet coke, my last soda of the trip.

We boarded and Finn (who is six) insisted on sitting in the back of the enormous tour bus so immediately we looked antisocial. He, of course, conked out ¾ of the way through the 2+ hour drive to the kibbutz while we attempted to keep him awake by saying things like “Look, Israeli cows, Look Checkpoints and snaking lines of traffic we get to sail through because we are on a tourbus, Look Kosher McDonald’s!”
Arrival at Kibbutz Ginosar was worth it. 85 degrees, slight breeze, buffet dinner. I had curried potatoes, beet coleslaw, hummus with homemade crusty bread, mound sof green and black olives, a dill cucumber salad, fresh tomatoes, thick Arabic coffee.

After dinner Christina and I checked into our triple room at the Inn and wandered down to the nighttime view of the Sea of Galilee. Grace, beauty, calm rippling black waters, the shimmer of Tiberias on the opposite side… and the bugs. My WinterWuss skin was not prepared for mosquitos so we hoofed it back to the hotel bar for a couple of tall goldstars. We met Gerry from Kansas City, a fellow digger, and introduced him to the Sam Adams of Israel, chatted for an hour or so and then ambled back to the room where we proceeded to watch a Made for Television movie on Ted Bundy and Anne Rule showing on the hallmark channel, one of the few channels we got.

An early breakfast (challah French toast, fresh melon, olives and feta and coffee strong enough that I thought the spoon would stand) and people converged to board the bus to Bethsaida, about a fifteen minute drive from the Kibbutz. Rami (Arav, P.h.d.- Archaeologist in charge of the dig) introduced the site to those unfamiliar with it and went over basic protocol (no flipflops, drink lots of water, don’t walk through the landmine field adjacent to the site.) It was a marathon of sorts- I have never seen him talk that long. Everyone introduced themselves and then immediately forgot everyone’s names, I pitched off the rock I had wedged myself on earning Gash #1. I wandered down to the road to the ancient city, the area in which I toiled endlessly two years ago. Archaeological dig sites are a contrary force. So much left to do, yet so much changes. They had widened the road by another five feet in the two years since I had seen it. Right as we were finishing up the last time I was there, Rami was musing that the road may be wider so in a heat fueled last-day frenzy we dug an 8”x 8” by 9” scope and found paving stones at the bottom, proving Rami’s assertation that Bethsaida was, in fact, a city of considerable importance, having a road nearly twice as wide as the average size for the time.

They had also dug up the Syrian bunker where I used to hide my tools and had excavated an entire paved plaza up near the city gates, a space presumably used as a marketplace. Cranes and moved the bunker and the winter restoration crew had restored huge expanses of the outer and inner city walls.

Usually the first day comes with the decidedly unglamorous job of pulling mounds of weeds, clearing the sites to be opened but Rami talked so long we got to mostly wander and leave. Early day back to the kibbutz, which was probably a good thing for most who hadn’t adjusted to the time change. I was feeling pretty proud of myself- all Time Change Proof. Usually I merely tell myself over and over that it is the time it is when I arrive somewhere and I am able to trick myself into immediately adjusting. This lends a small swagger to my step when others were dragging. The trip home toppled me from this ridiculous throne of smugness as I spent over four days in a sleep deprived wonky state when I returned home and stupidly went right back to work.

Christina and I found our way back to the small market, tucked way back in the depths of the kibbutz, stocked up on Nescafe, treats and beer and had an impromptu gathering in front of our room for the few people we had met so far. Gerry and his mother, a powerhouse named Wilda, Gloria. We were reunited with Celso, a retired Brazilian banker living in Houston who so fell in love with digging that he has now gone on five digs and would be following this trip by immediately working on one at Mount Zion in Jerusalem.




It’s impossible to accurately describe the peacefulness of Kibbutz Ginosar; not just around the hotel that is housed on the grounds, but also walking around the community itself. Tucked on the Sea of Galilee, this place is tranquil but pulses with real work, unexpected art and palpable contentment. There is a large (expensive) hotel in one area, the smaller (and vastly cheaper) set of inn rooms (where we were housed) and the actual Kibbutz homes and farms. Ginosar also houses the Yigal Allon Museum, home to the so-called Jesus Boat. The museum also contains the primary labs and workrooms holding most the finds from Bethsaida that have not been passed on to the Israeli Antiquities Authority or that are ‘on tour’ overseas. It would have been called home had I gotten to do the pottery reconstruction work I was hoping to do last year, until the grant fell through.