We just can’t seem to leave Israel without a story to tell!

Well, we’re back- or at least I am. J is already gone again, this time to Turkey for a short trip. As much as I wanted to join him on another adventure to one of my favorite places in the world-Istanbul-I just could not bring myself to pack one more darn suitcase! I’m sure he’s going to have a great time though, especially when he doesn’t have a car full of luggage and kid in tow to slow him down.

We got back from Israel yesterday, a day later than expected. As we were driving to the border crossing our car started to overheat bad but we weren’t too worried at the moment because we just needed to “cross the bridge” over the River Jordan onto Jordanian soil with the car and we could get it towed back to Amman from there. Home was a mere 45 min. away!

Unfortunately for us, when we got to the border it had already closed (only 15 min. prior) and we were pretty much stuck in the middle of nowhere. Well, not quite the middle of nowhere. The West Bank! As much as we begged and pleaded that our car wouldn’t make it far, the border guard wouldn’t budge.

She gave us two options, drive north to another border that would be open later or stay in a local Kibbutz for the night and try again in the morning. To me the answer was a no brainer, but J had other plans. He absolutely had to get home that day as he had a million things that he needed to get done the next day and no time to waste. Only later did I learn about the college football games he intended to watch that night- a diehard fan indeed. So, my lovely husband decides we must make it to the northern border and takes off. Meanwhile I’m yelling that there is no way we can make it with our car the way it was (smoking and smelling at this point!) The trip would add on another three hours in the car! When the car died just 10 min. north of the border I was actually relieved, better there than an hour up the road with no possibilities for a place to stay. So, there we were; 100-degree weather, a bazillion flies buzzing around us (I am not exaggerating on the flies. I have never experienced so many flies in my life!), a dead car and in the West Bank!

Since this is my blog I can tell the story my way, so without exaggerating, I was pretty calm. Impressively calm. :) Someone had to stay calm for the sake of the child! (I was also secretly excited to visit a real Kibbutz) I called the border guard up, asked her to reserve that Kibbutz afterall, and told her that we would need a taxi. After letting the car cool down for a while we were able to drive it back closer to the border where we ultimately had to ditch it for the evening. The border guard met us on the road and informed us that we had better hide that vehicle because with Jericho just up the road that car wouldn’t last an hour. I could just picture it being used for some suicide-bombing mission the way stolen cars are used in this region. Definitely not good for a U.S. Gov’t vehicle or J’s future career!

We ended up hiding it in a church lot and emptied it the best we could. Overloaded the taxi (as usual) and found our way to the Kibbutz. The best way to describe an Israeli Kibbutz is to think of a commune. Thankfully, our Kibbutz was more like a “family camp”. It would have been a decent place to spend the evening except for one v. important factor. We arrived about 5pm and hungry after eating a light lunch. My first question was, “where is the Dining Hall” if this tells you something about my stomach. Unlucky for us, there was NO food to be found. Due to it being Shabbat (which I will tell you more about later), everything was closed. When I say no food, I mean not even a vending machine! Thankfully, we had a reserve tuna packet and some applesauce for K. J and I ended up eating the dates we were saving for a gift. Let’s just say I was up bright and early the next day waiting for breakfast!

The story ends on a happier note, our car was still in the parking lot and J was able to barely(!) drive it across the border. At every checkpoint, we crossed our fingers for no line and let the poor car cruise down the hills. Once we arrived back in Jordan we parked the smoky, stinky car, called a towtruck and were driven home by a friend with lots of trunk space. Overall, the little adventure cost a good $350 extra (yes, we were robbed by the taxis and the Kibbutz in our hour of desperation). Thank goodness for write-offs!