We arrived in Haifa, Israel after a 23 hour flight, including a seven-hour layover in Newark, New Jersey. Needless to say, it was exhausting. But what made it worse was that I was so eager to depart on this journey I failed to sleep the entire night before departure. I could not fall asleep! I had spent about a month reading about Israel, its people and culture, and I also studied the suffering and exile of Baha'u'llah. Banished from Iran, exiled in Iraq, Turkey, and Israel, His mission was to bring about greater appreciation of human diversity, to unite the world in one common Faith, and to promote global well-being. It was poignant to visit the Holy Shrines, the Memorial Gardens, and to linger in the presence of others like George and myself, intent on 'filling our cup to the brim'. (Of course there are others who wish to empty their cup!)
That brings me to my first photo above, of waking up in our hotel, opening the shutters to our window overlooking a courtyard, and placing my bowl on the windowsill. Our room at the Haddad Guest House on Ben Gurion Avenue was efficient, with a little kitchen (a refrigerator, an electric tea kettle, and (Tim will like this!) a small waffle iron. We quickly learned that there are bakeries and 'hole in the wall' grocery stores on almost every block, so we loaded up on fresh-baked pita bread, hummus, fruits and vegetables. Everything is incredibly fresh and flavorful.
There are solar panels and small water-storage containers on all the roofs. When we arrived I learned that our hotel didn't provide wash cloths, and when the water was cold I assumed they didn't pro
vide hot water either. I boiled water in the teapot and placed it in my soup bowl for washing (pictured above). After five days I finally inquired about hot water for the shower and learned that the switch on the wall released the hot water! The Haddad Guest House is in the hub of the old part of Haifa, in the German Colony. The night life was exuberant, with music playing until 4:30 in the morning in many of the restaurants along Ben Gurion Avenue. It was a time of festivity for an upcoming Jewish Holy Day, the Shabbat.
As the days unfolded we savored the excitement and celebration, eating in many of the little restaurants and stopping for an afternoon latte on open verandas. Baha'i Pilgrims greeted us as they passed, giving the area a feeling of connection and congeniality.
George took almost a thousand photos and culled them down to about 500 'good ones'. It will take weeks for him to process those photos! 
Although I took my camera, I was determined not to be in 'camera mode', like a tourist. I took a little over one hundred photos, strictly as an after-thought. I wanted to be a Pilgrim, not a tourist, and the Pilgrimage experience is so wondrous and personal that I shall keep it private. When I get time, I'll be placing my photos in a separate Flickr file: Bonita's Pilgrimage Photos. I've got about 30 that I'll keep. George's photos are in the Baha'i Pilgrimage file. 
This is one of my favorites, of the gardens at Bahji, simple and lovely.
We went to the Shrine of Baha'u'llah and the Mansion at Bahji about four times, and on one occasion it was coupled with the First Day of Ridvan celebration. About 800 Baha'is serve at the World Center, and there were over 300 Pilgrims. So watching almost a thousand Baha'is circumambulate the Holy Shrine of Baha'u'llah was phenomenal, reverent, and joyous. Never to be forgotten, as if my entire life had been made for that day.
Another significant moment for me on this Pilgrimage was to place a lock of my mother's hair under a plant on Mt. Carmel that I'd carefully chosen. She is buried on a remote Indian reservation in Montana, in accordance with her own need to serve the Faith. But, I felt a part of her belonged here, deserved to be here. She made a Baha'i Pilgrimage in 1953, and when the Guardian directed the Baha'is to travel to foreign lands to teach the Faith he also said it was meritorious just to be buried in a remote place not yet opened to the Faith. She left her bones, and I saved a lock of her hair. I poked it into the soil under the tough succulent leaves of 'Hens and Chicks'.
We took a sherut (a taxi van with multiple destinations) to Akka on one of our free days, and spent three hours exploring this old city with its central market, its old alleyways, the caravanseri and citadel.I could have spent three days here! It was the most ancient city I've ever seen, with the old stones almost petrified from wind and sea brine off the Mediterranean.
We explored the old market place, with its alleyways and little shops: Food grilling, hawkers shouting out their wares, spices in big burlap bags. 
I bought all my spices here: Yemenite Hawaig, Turkish Shawarma, Sumac, Nutmeg, Cilantro, middle- eastern Oregano, and Zahatar.The aroma of the market was wondrous! Sensory overload! However, my eyes put on a bit of protest. They simply gave out by 3:00 in the afternoon, and I had to hold on to George to make my way throughout the alleyways. That was fortuitous, though, as I had to walk with my eyes downcast. I found all kinds of 'alley trash' along the ancient sea wall - old nails, buttons, ceramic tile, a huge bolt and ornate washers, old crushed bottle caps. I bagged up small rocks and a sliver of granite siding from one of the columns within the caravanseri that had fallen to the ground. I sure hoped all of this would make it through customs (especially the sharps), as I had not made any 'tourist purchases' during the entire trip. On our last day we visited a small shop not far from our hotel that sold prayer beads, illuminated holy text, ceramic Greatest Names and other memorabilia. We purchased a few things for the friends back home.
We'd heard all kinds of stories about some of the hazards of being a tourist in Haifa (overcharging), but we didn't experience any of it. The local people were wonderful, the waiters soft-spoken and overly solicitous, very courteous. Arab men have a reputation of staring at women, and I was no exception with my big visor and bug-eyed sunglasses. I'm sure all of them thought I had no reason to compromise my appearance this way (nobody wears visors), but it was essential for me, and so much a part of my daily attire that I forgot I had it on when I did my first prostration at the Shrine of Baha'u'llah. I layed my prayer book in front of me, bowed my head at the Holy Threshold, and dang, I banged my visor onto my prayerbook with a thud.
I also stubbed my toes on thresholds, and stumbled more times than I can count. I simply had no clear vision or ability to determine depth of field with my double vision, so I was always careening and tumbling a bit. The flight with its exhaustion and jet-lag and the rigors of the Pilgrimage (walking and climbing) triggered a major 'episode', which my doctors suspect is myasthenia gravis. Well, the pain was so intense for several days I finally took four doses of Advil over a 24 hour duration. Not only was the pain gone, but my vision was completely restored! I had perfect vision for the entire First Day of Ridvan, that most glorious day. This was a revelation in itself! My issues are not glycation (nerve damage associated with aging) but muscle weakness due to an auto-immune disorder. My vision issues are now more understandable.
I'm glad to be home, so grateful for the experiences of the past few weeks. George and I managed so well, had such a good time! The courtesy and care of the Baha'i World Center staff is foremost in my mind. They go out of their way to insure that the Pilgrimage experience is meaningful and comfortable.
