Travelers' Tales: Best Travel Writing, March 2016
A narrative of hiking through the desert of the Palestinian West Bank with a partner who overhydrated — the “Bad Trip” Silver Certificate Winner in the tenth annual Solas Awards. (Travelers’ Tales’ Best Travel Writing, March 2016)
Gore-Tex presents Experience More, September 2015
Hiking in the Palestinian West Bank is no easy feat—especially when you get lost and you’re low on water. (Gore-Tex presents Experience More, September 2015)
From the trip blog: "The Global Trip: Holla! In The Holy Land"
Posted July 01, 2009
DAY 12 (PART 1): “What did he say?” I asked my new friend and traveling companion Sarit, who was fluent enough in Hebrew to understand what the bus driver was telling us. She had asked him where we should be dropped off on the side of the road in order to hike the Wadi Qelt trek between Jerusalem and Jericho, through the untamed desert of the Palestinian West Bank.
“He said that he’ll drop us off at the [Jewish] settlement and that it’s a far walk and it’s unsafe and that we shouldn’t be heroes for doing it,” Sarit informed me. “But he’ll take us.”
From the trip blog: "The Global Trip: Holla! In The Holy Land"
Posted July 11, 2009
DAY 13: “I guess we should get a group photo?” suggested the curious Howard, who was probably testing the waters of the dynamics of our newly-formed tour group; we had only been riding together in a mini-van for less than an hour with not much conversation. But our smiling willingness for a group photo at our quick early morning pitstop — the Sea Level roadside marker — was the telling that we had lucked out with a fun crew.
“Can you take a picture with my camera too?!” asked another to our driver who was taking the photo.
“Mine too!”
Soon, there were multiple photos of our six smiles — it was the first of several group photos that day.
From the trip blog: "The Global Trip: Holla! In The Holy Land"
Posted August 01, 2009
DAY 14: “We should go to services in Bethlehem on Sunday, since we went to Shabbat dinner on Friday,” suggested Miriam, the quirky, chain-smoking Scottish lass I’d met on the way to Shabbat dinner at a rabbi’s house two days prior. With that said, I had made plans to head back into the Palestinian West Bank to O Tourist Town of Bethlehem — birthplace of baby Jew, Jesus Christ — with her, and two others I’d met (Willa and Maurice) when were all out drinking the night before. Gathering the crew together that morning was a small ordeal, with cell phone alarms that didn’t go off and having to backtrack to get passports — not to mention the inevitable hangovers that ensued.