Wow, was this trip to Israel slightly different than in years past. I recall saying something along the lines of "well, Israel will be slightly calmer than this trip" while driving through the chaos that is Managua a few weeks back. Oh, Fate~ you are a fickle beast and you take my flip comments far too seriously.

That said, it was a truly wonderful trip, as always. I am exceedingly lucky to be a part of this dig, this circle of people. I am not sure how I fell into it, but it really is a community of creative and dynamic people, intelligent and quizzical. Borderline obsessive but possessing a child-like awe. I feel more at home on the dig then I do right now, sitting in my bedroom. Sounds cheesy but there it is.

This year, I met my friend Christina in Philly and we flew together to Tel Aviv, making the 12 hour flight far more bearable. It was in Philly that I first met Joel, a somewhat bland 29 year old, who will factor into this vacation story far more prominently soon. Joel lives in Omaha and had come to the dig before. He had decided on a whim to come back this year, latching on to us. He would chip in on the rental car and 'figure out lodging' when we got to the kibbutz because he is a 'fly by the seat of my pants kinda guy'. If someone ever, ever, says that particular term to me again, I will either fly into a homicidal rage or fall onto the floor, a quivering fetal like mass of nerves. But, I am speeding up. At this point, he was still just "Joel", sort of nice in a tapioca pudding kind of way. When we arrived in Tel Aviv, I sort of sped through customs, got my backpack from the carousel and was sitting with a cup of Arabic coffee for about half an hour by the time Christina and Joel emerged from the immigration area. Joel, it seems, was traveling with a severely water stained passport- wouldn't scan, picture was barely visible. The Israelis don't like that kind of thing and spent quite a bit of time questioning him about his grandfather’s occupation and his childhood pets and such things. Bags collected, we got the rental car I had secured and hit Route 6 in our Hyundai Getz. Israeli radio stations like to screw with your psyche, playing a full two minutes of some classic 80's song so I get all worked up, singing aloud, turning it up and then some smooth Hebrew voice interrupts, advertising some holiday destination or beverage.

We managed to miss all of the Shabbat traffic heading the other way and made it to Tiberias by 6pm and pulled into Kibbutz Ginosar shortly thereafter. Greeted by a gleaming Kinnaret, we checked into our room and headed to dinner. Joel had decided that he would crash on our floor that evening and figure out what his plans were on Sunday. Dinner on the Kibbutz is one of the things I look forward to most on these trips. Long tables piled with curried potatoes, beet salads, taboulis, fresh fish, hummus, Israeli salads and mounds and mounds of beautiful, wonderful, plump, kibbutz grown olives.

At dinner, we greeted some familiar beloved faces; Dr. Elizabeth McNamer from Rocky Mountain college, Dr. Carl Savage from Drew, Hanan Shafir, professional photographer and resident BMW Motorcycle riding jokester. Celso, a Brazilian businessman who has come to the dig as king as I have.