Free Travel: Eilat

This morning Jake, Hilary, Lydia, and I walked to the Jerusalem central bus station and each purchased a ticket for bus #444 direct to Eilat. We departed promptly at 10 am, and with the help of our daredevil bus driver, we were looking out at the Red Sea at 2 o'clock that afternoon, an hour earlier than projected. I had pulled up a walking route on google maps on the bus, using the complimentary wifi provided on the Egged public transport bus. Unfortunately, the map disappeared the minute we walked off the bus and away from the wifi, so we walked out of the bus station without a map. Luckily Jake, who had been planning on finding his own transportation to Eilat, was with us and had his own hand drawn map of the route from the bus station. We followed it as best as we could until we felt sufficiently lost and hailed a cab. We landed at a gated corner house maybe 100 yards from the spot where we had been standing.
The house matched the address I had found on the website. Success! But when we rang the bell, no one answered. We realized that our hosts were probably not expecting us for another hour, so we camped out on the steps in front of the gate and read for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. At 4 we decided we should try something else. Jake and I found a neighbor and asked to use his cell phone to call our host, but as we were dialing, the neighbor-man told us that the number we had was not an Israeli number, kin fact it was not a cell phone number at all. Who are you trying to call? he asked. Violette? Yes, she lives here, but she is at work, and her husband works at the UN. She will be home later tonight.
Jake and I returned the phone, thanked the man, and reported back to Hilary and Lydia. We were relieved to have confirmation that we were at the right address. We wanted to see the beach and the town. So I made the executive decision to throw our bags over the gate and go for a walk. We tossed and dropped our bags as gently as possible and made our way down to the shore. We found what a typical American might expect at a beach: saggy boobs, burnt skin, short shorts, ice cream, a mall, and salt water. There really wasn't much beach. There were buildings, a buffer of dirt and rocks, and then water. We put our toes in the water. It was much less romantic than it might have been on a full stomach.
Feeling slightly let down and very hungry, we began the search for food. We ended up at a falafel stand and too exhausted to keep looking, ate our dinner there. It was incredible how much food improved group morale. We practically skipped back up the hill to the apartment. To our disappointment, there was still no answer when we rang the bell on the gate, so we resumed our reading positions on the stoop, ready to wait again. Jake was feeling too restless to sit and wait, so he and I decided to look for another cell phone to borrow. We had another phone number for our host, her husband's number. At 6:30 in the evening there wasn't anybody walking around, so we went back to the falafel stand and asked the shop owner if he had a phone we could use. He did and the number worked! I talked very briefly to a nameless man with a Hebrew accent. He asked if I was Becky. "Becky?" Yes. "I will be there in 10 minutes." Okay! So Jake and I ran back to the apartment, where Lydia and Hilary were still sitting, to tell them the good news. We waited with anticipation for 10 minutes, then 20 minutes, then 30. We started to wonder what was going on, so we jogged back to the falafel stand one more. The shop owner saw us and asked "Did you find him?" What? No! "He was just here, looking for you. He ask me if I know where you are." We were waiting up at the apartment we say pointing up the hill in the direction of the apartment. "No no no, he is wait here," said our falafel friend, pointing down the hill towards an apartment complex. We thanked him and jogged in the direction he had pointed. A lone man stood on the curb, watching us approach. We looked at each other for a long moment. I realized I didn't know the name of the man we were looking for. "Excuse me," Jake said as we got closer. "Becky?" Just as I opened my mouth to give this illusive unnamed man a piece of my mind for keeping us waiting all day, he leaned toward me and barked "where have you been? I wait here since 2 o'clock!" It caught me off guard. I hadn't imagined that he would be angry with us. We were at the right address. I pulled out my iPod and showed him where we were and where the address appeared on the website. He shook his head, "It's not true. I don't know where you got this address "
Well to hell with it you old fart! Let's just get into the apartment. We ran all the way back up the hill for the last time and fetched Hilary, Lydia, and our luggage, which Jake rescued from the other side of the gate by jumping over. By 8:30pm we were alone in the apartment. The only sign of the illusive unnamed man was a stalk of a weed, which he handed me when we met him back at the apartment with our luggage as a welcome. On any other occasion I would have thrown it out, but it was so symbolic it felt unholy to dispose of it. Instead we filled an empty beer bottle with water and kept it as a centerpiece for the rest if the week.