Galilean Surprises

Ailyn stood on the side of the road wearing only her shoes and socks while everyone fluttered around figuring out what to do with her watermelon juice vomit soaked clothes and both whether and how to access some clean clothes for her. It had been a long and full day of activities along Israel's coast and up into the Galilee region when only four minutes away from our kibbutz/guesthouse, Ailyn and Sennen simultaneously threw up – primarily watermelon juice. Somehow Ailyn ended up soaked in her vomit while Sennen had only a few minor stains.

As poor Aunt Mol sitting in the seat behind them sprung into action, she got hit with spraying vomit. Since her shirt was tanked, she decided to simply pull it off and use it to towel off a crying Ailyn – who was mostly upset that her new bracelet might be ruined by vomit. Molly then quickly commandeered her mother's black pashmina lying on the next seat as a coverall as the bus driver pulled over and we all evacuated the bus.

Luckily, things came together quickly. Ailyn was cleaned up and changed into dry clothes. Our driver had every cleaning chemical you could imagine along with tons of rags and sponges (which should have been no surprise to us as the bus' floor was so slick one could imagine it coated with Armor-All). And Bailey bravely ran into the adjacent convenient store and came back with a plastic shopping bag to contain the watermelon soaked clothes.

Four minutes later we pulled in to our guesthouse and the whole mini-drama seemed over. Until a few minutes later we found ourselves in a large swarm of frustrated Jews from Atlanta – all trying as we were to get their bags to the upper floors of the guesthouse right after both elevators shorted and stopped working. A large bus full of congregants on a rabbi-led trip arrived just after us and despite having no sign of having experienced watermelon juice vomit trauma, seemed just as eager to settle in as we were. So with no elevators, chaos ensued right around us. Eventually, everyone took to the stairs and Emily and I carried our family's five bags up to our room. 

After everyone had settled in, we headed to the dining room for a great buffet dinner and life took its normal, pleasant course again.

Aside from the aforementioned events, the day was actually very good. After the last amazing buffet breakfast at the Crowne Plaza, we met our guide Dina and headed north to Caesarea National Park which beautifully preserved the ruins of Caesarea – the once spectacular Roman deepwater port build by Herod the Great to showcase his Judean kingdom's status among the various parts of the Roman Empire. The controversial Herod had numerous faults, but he was a great builder which included projects like Massada, the expansion of the Second Temple, aqueducts, the Jericho palaces and Caesarea. He was a man with a plan and much of his work not only survives to this day, but are among the key attractions visitors to Israel want to see.

While Sennen was very interested to understand why Rome wanted dominion over Judea (Israel in his mind) and how the Roman Empire came and then ceded way to the Byzantines and Ottomans – the actual site of Caesarea turned out not to do much for either him or his sister. After a visit to the coliseum there, the heat and the collection of old, ruined things left them whiney and unhappy. So, I activated the backup plan Emily and I had created for just such a situation and took them to the gelato cafe near the park's exit. There, Sennen and Ailyn's mood took a decisive turn for the better while enjoying bubble gum gelato and cold water. It helped that Emily was already there, working while the rest of the family did the tour. So when she was done, they got a little mommy time and all was right with the world.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family seemed to enjoy Caesarea and felt it a very worthwhile tour – probably made more enjoyable without having two whiney kids there.

From Caesarea, we continued to the Lower Galilee region and Kfar Kedem – a historical park that helps bring people into experiencing life in the times of the Talmud or Mishnah. There we donned clothes reminiscent of 1800 years ago and learned how residents of the Galilee farmed. Then we ground wheat, made (and ate) our own pita bread, rode mules and then had an excellent lunch feast of local, traditional foods. This was one of the kids' favorite activities thus far.

From Kfar Kedem, we headed to the Upper Galilee town of Tzfat – famous for its rich history of Jewish scholarship and Kabbalistic practice. The Upper Galilee was once a seat of many acclaimed and important rabbis – and Tzfat remains the seat of their legacy. During the 1948 War of Independence, Tzfat was also a significant battleground for control of Israel largely because of its strategic hilltop location. 

We spent about an hour and a half traversing Tzfat's narrow, cobblestone pedestrian-only streets and visited incredibly old synagogues, watched weavers make beautiful tallits, learned about traditional candle making and peeked in some of Tzfat's numerous art galleries. With its cool breezes, charming streets and palpable history, Tzvat was a joy to visit and probably (and I can speak from prior experience) would have been a place we could have enjoyed far longer without kids. 

And that leads us back to the hour ride to the guesthouse and the Great Watermelon Puke.

But there is an epilogue – or perhaps a prologue  - to my tale of vomit. Today's incident was actually a little-known second bodily excretion related incident in the past 24 hours. Last night, when I brought the kids back to our hotel room after playing at a nearby beach playground in Tel Aviv, Sennen began complaining this his tushy hurt and perhaps he should go to the bathroom. I of course got him to the bathroom in our hotel room as quickly as possible and planned to shower the kids. When helping him with his clothes, it turned out his underwear was coated in a layer of poop.

"I pooped on the beach, but I didn't have toilet paper!" he explained.

"Why would you poop on the beach?! Why didn't you tell anyone you needed to go? I could have taken you to the restroom."

"Because it was better for the ecology if I pooped on the beach!"

"Sennen, someone could step in your poop! How would you feel if you stepped in someone's poop on the beach?!"

"Daddy, they won't step on it – I pooped under the pirate ship (playset)!"

It was an admittedly hard to access place. But then it begs the questions both of how he pooped in such a low and dark space – and how he did it unnoticed. But I decided to leave those among the many questions and mysteries of Israel and to tend to the cleanup at hand.