ISRAEL, ASHDOD AND JERUSALEM Thur. June 20

            Jerusalem – one place in the world I never thought to be. Yet here I am in a bus travelling about in a modern city: sandstone buildings all about, apartments blocks mainly three storeys high, hills and valleys covered with buildings, good roads snaking around hills and patches of desert beside us some of the time.

            This is the new Jerusalem. Not in the biblical term of ‘New Jerusalem’ – just the Israeli new city.

            The Port was Ashdod on Israel’s West coast, an hour and a half by bus almost due west of Jerusalem. We had to get up just after 5. My willingness to get up, shower and breakfast at this hour is a significant proof of my desire to visit this new Jerusalem in Israel of today. There were security details to complete. Our tour was listed to leave at 8.25am, but we were advised to report to the lounge at 7am.

            Everybody on board was advised they had to report to Israel Immigration and Security in the cruise terminal before 8am, whether they were going ashore  or not, so when we went into the terminal at 7am there were already about twenty queues maybe 30 deep there. An official asked if were going on a tour and whisked us to the top of one of these queues. The examination of our passports and faces was quick and elementary, the trip out to the buses well organized and supervised, so I was surprised to find myself sitting on a bus number 27 ready to go at twenty past seven in the morning. Still fairly groggy, I admit – but ready for take-off.

            Our Israeli guide who introduced himself to us was an older Israeli, with a kind face and caring manner. He was very knowledgeable about Israel and the biblical Hebrew history. He was so full of the Hebrew history that it sounded like someone may sound if they were talking about battles of the first or second World Wars where they had a grandfather or uncle involved. We heard about battles with the Canaanites, Joshua conquering the land, and about the establishment of the state of Israel. He showed us the valley with its empty fields where the shepherd boy David fought a lion and a bear to protect his flock, and then fought and defeated Goliath. It all seemed so recent and embedded in his story of his land.

            It was interesting how he dropped into his commentary little pieces of Jewish (Israelite? Biblical? Or Torah?) wisdom such as you never go down. Any trip ‘down’ was really just getting ready to up. He suggested we should all look at life this way. I felt he was sincere in his beliefs and commitment, and he had a gentle way of sharing things important to him.

            We drove around the city of Jerusalem, viewing the Old Temple Wall, the distant views of the old city, sites such as the new large hospital –the most advanced in the Middle East – and the Military Cemetery where some thousands of young Israelis killed in the various wars were buried. We made our first stop of the day at the Yad Vashem Memorial for the six million Jews who were exterminated by the Nazis in the Second World War.

            Admission is free as the site is funded by donations from Jews around the world, in the hopes this disaster will be remembered and never repeated. So here I am –exploring. Hall after hall is packed with pictures, historical documents, memorabilia  and live videos of survivors describing some aspect of the Holocaust.

            I am riveted by the stories. There was a ship carrying refugees who all had visas for Cuba. When they arrived Cuba had changed its mind and the ship was refused entry. It went then to Florida in hopes the USA would accept these people, but was ordered out of American waters. With food and water running out the ship eventually headed back to Europe and the refugees disembarked in Belgium where they had to make their own way. Some managed to get to England, and some were eventually sent to death camps as the Nazis overran more and more of Europe.

            One statement in large writing on a wall tells me that the Australian representative at a conference about what was happening to the Jews said something like Australia had no racial problems and was not willing to import any.  I feel embarrassed. I wonder if I will feel embarrassed like this one day about our treatment of the current Asylum Seeker of today.

One survivor on a video is talking about going to school in Poland. Each morning the teacher would read out the roll call. When children didn’t answer their name, the teacher would stop and ask the class if anyone knew if they were sick, were there family problems, or had they been taken. The children all knew. If they had been taken she would take a ruler and pen and cross their names from the roll.

            There are photos from camps, train lines and mock stations surrounded by stories of what happened to the real people there. There’s a display under glass in the floor of hundreds of old shoes taken from an extermination camp.

            We have forty minutes to go through this large museum in an extraordinary building with section after section of horror stories. It did not take forty minutes for me to become depressed and guilty about the hatred, cruelty and what happened to these real people.

            In a separate building there’s the Children’s Memorial, where we go through a darkened place lit by a few lights and mirrors reflecting these lights while voices read out a list of one and a half million children who were killed in the Holocaust. Each child’s name and age is read solemnly. Like “Judah Solomon – six months old.” A slight pause, then the next name.

            There are six million trees planted around the Yad Vashem Memorial. One for each victim. There is also an avenue of trees for the gentiles who helped and sheltered Jewish refugees, and the last resting place of Oskar Schindler is nearby.

            I left Yad Vashem with a heavy heart.

Our next stop is the Museum of Israel, with a model of the historical city of Jerusalem out in a depression surrounded by high viewing walls. The guide points out all the salient buildings and historical significance. I’m afraid both Bruce and I withdraw to the shade and some tables outside a refreshment café to reflect, sit and recover from the morning so far. It is very hot out in the open.

An excellent smorgasbord lunch in the cool of a very large hotel revives us. There is a huge room with tables and seating for all the busloads from the ship.

The afternoon programme consists of a visit to the old city, the Wailing Wall of old Jerusalem where pilgrims from all over the world come to pray and push written prayers into the cracks of the wall, King David’s Tomb and a trek up and down all the hills of the Old City. The guide tells me I will not be able to do this, so I wait in the bus, where the driver is resting as he has to drive to Turkey tonight.

Bruce arrives back exhausted from his trek through the Old City, as do most of the others. The bus is very quiet as we drive the one and half hours back to the Sea Princess for a late informal dinner and an early night- still full of my reflections on Yad Vashem Memorial.

Next day comments in the lift and dining areas are that it was ‘a good day’ whatever people did, and all are grateful for a quiet ‘sea day’ to recover.