Before we knew war was coming

We traveled up to Sfat

There wasn’t a thing that we bought

I’m sorry to tell

Of the roadkill gazelle

And the peace talks that just came to nought.

Synopsis: I’m a Family Practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa.  In 2010 I danced back from the brink of burnout, and, honoring a 1-year non-compete clause, traveled and worked in out-of-the-way places in Alaska, Nebraska, Iowa, and New Zealand.  After 3 Community Health years, I took temporary gigs in Iowa, Pennsylvania, Nebraska, Canada, and Alaska.  Since the pandemic, I worked telemedicine, a COVID-19 clinic, a VA clinic, and spots Texas, Iowa, and Pennsylvania.  Taking vacation from circuit-riding rural clinics in Iowa, Nebraska, and South Dakota, I’m on vacation in Israel.  I’m Jewish.  I will not be writing about religion or politics.  See my post https://walkaboutdoc.wordpress.com/2010/09/13/why-i-dont-write-about-religion-politics-or-sex/ This post was written before the hostilities started

Two days before the pre-emptive strike on Iranian nuclear facilities, we spent the morning in Sfat, a town whose religious history includes elements of mysticism that echo across Judaism to this day.

In contrast to all other settlements built on hills, Sfat started low and built upwards to its center.  Wool provided economic support while the Ottoman Empire ruled the Middle East, but spirituality is really what made the town grow.  Later, because poor income means low rents and quiet, artists formed a colony. 

Bethany and I have been here before.  We have walked, three times, down the alley with galleries packed shoulder-to-shoulder, but this is the first time we were able to walk without bumping into people. 

Business tanked during the pandemic, and has gotten much worse since the recent conflict in Gaza.

We already own more artwork, and more things, than we have time or space for.  Yet I admit I looked long and hard at a display of bread knives intended for Sabbath use.  But I never got closer than 12 paces.  In the end, I knew that I couldn’t bring them home on carry-on and that such knives, with too many teeth spaced too close together, fail in their intended function.

We snacked on very good chocolate croissant and coffee and chatted, surrounded by students, until too many of the young people lit up cigarettes.

I find the number of Israelis who smoke, and smoke publicly, distressing.   

On the road from Sfat to the Golan heights I spotted a roadkill gazelle.  On this I remark because, while bad for the individual, it probably indicates a healthy, growing herd.

In the medieval period, the Golan produced a lot of olive oil

The process of clearing Golan minefields continues 50 years after that phase of the conflict.

Our group stood at an overlook as the day cooled and waned, gazing across green fields to the tree line that signals the Syrian border.   

Embracing the adventure: a night in Paris

I suppose I could…but I shan’t

Start on a detailed rant

How the vouchers would square us

For a night spent in Paris

Gave us a favorable slant.

Synopsis: I’m a Family Practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa. In 2010 I danced back from the brink of burnout, and honoring a 1 year non-compete clause, traveled and worked in out-of-the-way places in Alaska, Nebraska, Iowa, and New Zealand. I followed 3 years Community Health Center work with further travel and adventures in temporary positions in Iowa, Pennsylvania, Nebraska, Canada, and Alaska.  2019 included hospitalist work in my home town and rural medicine in northern British Columbia.   Since the pandemic started, I did 10 months of telemedicine in my basement, followed by 5 months staffing a COVID-19 clinic in southeast Iowa.  Since autumn, I’ve done some telemedicine visited family, attended 4 funerals, 12 weeks as a contractor for the Veterans Administration in South Dakota, and a trip to Israel.

Because of travel, some posts are out of order.

Don’t expect another rant about a trip home turned nightmare, despite wrong lines and flights missed and delayed.

If you want, sometime we’ll sit down and talk about the Tel Aviv hotel with no one to call a taxi, and being pulled over by an Israeli soldier with an M16 who starts his interrogation with a smile, perfect American English, and “Hey, guys…”

I want to talk about a trip home delayed, not gone bad, but embracing the adventure.

We missed a connection in Paris.  Never mind about the long and wrong lines. 

We got vouchers for a hotel, supper and breakfast. 

We relaxed in our room before supper, and remembered the trip home from Uruguay when we got the same amenities but arrived at the hotel too late for supper and left too early for breakfast.

We had a simple French evening meal: salad, chicken, potatoes, and an exquisite chocolate tort for dessert.  The small, comfortable, stylish hotel room had a TV the size of a wall. 

I slept well enough to awaken with morning stiffness, the result of ankylosing spondylitis and the interval since last Enbrel injection. 

We had a wonderful breakfast: eggs, potatoes, fruit, croissants, coffee.  We set out to the airport, giving ourselves plenty of time for airport and immigration screw-ups.

No matter what you plan, it won’t turn out that way.  The bigger the plans, the longer the time frame, the less likely the final result will resemble what you had in mind.  When you run into the inevitable, you can squirm, curse, or cry, or you can embrace what will always turn out to be part of the adventure.

We got to the airport much earlier than we needed.  There was a short speed bump when my passport wouldn’t scan at one of the many passport scanners, but we found the gate easily.  We played Scrabble while drinking cappuccinos and eating croissants paid for by airline vouchers.  And when it was time to go to the gate, we went.  With the emotional resilience of not being in a hurry.  Because we took an extra day.  Because we missed a connection.  And got in the wrong lines.  And got lost in a very confusing airport with bad signage.

But we didn’t hurry.