Visiting Israel has long been a desire of my husband’s. I never put much thought into it. I didn’t need to. He thought about it, talked about it, and devoured books about the region. I just always had in the back of my mind that I would get there someday, because I’d be holding his hand when he finally arrived on Israeli soil. It didn’t exactly happen the way I expected.
One year ago today, my husband put me on a plane to Tel Aviv without him. His hand didn’t make it to Israeli soil for me to be holding. I squawked a little before leaving about how it wasn’t fair that I was going while he stayed home. I complained that my expectation to have his vast wealth of knowledge whispered in my ear at each new encounter was not being met. I wanted to wait till he had vacation and freedom to travel with me. But he wanted me to go – his parents were going and I wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t know when it would be possible again. He would have come in a heartbeat had he been able. So in the end, I went with eager anticipation and without my husband.
Friends encouraged me to blog about my adventures, posting pictures as I went. I answered with cautious optimism about my ability to do so and good intentions to please. I failed, miserably. I blogged nothing while away. My excuse was the triple-wammy of too many sites, too little internet service, and an over-saturated mind. An information overload that needed processing, and lots of it, judging by the length of time it’s taken me to get to this point. Here, on the one year anniversary of my departure from home, I am finally sharing bits of my excursion through Israel and Jordan.
Stay tuned for the next twelve days or so to walk with me through this terrific journey. Israel on my own, but not alone.
©Erika Rice