Our ecumenical drive continues. We spent an evening with the Anglican priest of St. Matthew's Church in Zababdeh, Father Hosam Na'oum.

Our West Bank is landmarked by Palestinian cities and villages, connected (now) by windy roads, whereas hers is marked by Jewish settlements connected by highways. It was as if we were talking about two totally different countries.

For all of the talk of opening roads and lifting closures, our experience today belied the political rhetoric.

Now is a wonderful time to see the land, if a bit nippy. Not unlike our impression of Ireland - green, wet, and rocky.

Our muse must be the vocal bovine neighbor who has been serenading us day and night for the past week.

The word for "rain" in Arabic is the word they use for the season of "winter."

The lush new growth on nearby rocky hills reminds us more of Ireland than John the Baptist.

It seems that Zababdeh has no running water (except for that stored in rooftop tanks) because of a broken water pump. The pump for the town is under Israeli control, and the Israelis have thusfar failed - or refused - to fix it.

Viruses aren't good. Elizabeth's been in bed with one, and Marthame managed to give one to our computer.

We realized that we haven't talked much about our new, expanded pad!

School is back in session. A memorial tree was planted today on the Patriarchate lands in Tayasir nearby.

Today was the third day (the traditional Arab day for visitation) after the death of fourth grader Annas.

Words will have to suffice for today, as the camera just didn't seem appropriate.

Once the shooting stopped, we paused to watch the beautiful moon disappear slowly from view. One of our neighbors said it looked like it was sad for Palestine.

We gathered with a crowd of folks along the road to see what can be seen - sometimes the red lights of Israeli tracer bullets (we think) can be seen disappearing into the hills. Suddenly, we saw one of these lovely red lights headed in the direction of our gathered crowd - thirty feet in the air and to the left (it wouldn't be a field goal), but in our general direction. Everyone scattered - Marthame went one way, Elizabeth another. Five or ten more followed suit afterwards, no one was really sure what was happening.

Elizabeth and Mom spent much of the day checking out the rugs for sale all around our hostel.

Unfortunately, the Dead Sea is shrinking at the rate of an inch a year - it's hasty retreat is dramatic. As in most places, this has to do with the appropriation of its natural sources for other uses.

In the office of World Vision stood an Arab priest who had been attacked on the road by settlers on the West Bank. He was told that the damage to his car was not covered because the attack had been by Jews.

Elizabeth and family headed off to the Mount of Olives where we saw a wonderful view of the city.

We took solace in the fact that it's a big, big city, with no dearth of things to see, and so we became tourists again, doing some shopping (the pleas of desperate shopkeepers are depressing - as we walked the Via Dolorosa, we wondered if the crowd shouted "50% off" to Jesus, too).