Got something to hide????????

I don't mean you've got more skelingtons in your closet than a politician, I mean you've nicked the Mona Lisa and you need somewhere to keep it safe till you find a buyer or it's getting near Christmas and the kids are tearing the house apart looking for their presents when you are out.
Well....I have a cunning plan..........
Nazaret' (remember we talk Gangsta now and don't pronounce the last letter in words wit a TH at the end).
It wasn't mentioned in the Bible- unlike most of the buildings in Nazaret' but it was mentioned by Simon and Garfunkel in their song 'Mrs Robinson', "hide it in a hiding place where no-one ever goes".......Just to add that certain something, unlike most good hiding places this actually has huge roadsigns indicating that not only does such a place exist but gives a hint as to in which direction it lies....can you tell what it is yet???

It's the tourist information centre.....oh yes...on the outskirts of town you are given a little confidence that you'll be guided to it's very door and there's a fair chance that it may even be open and not staffed by batty old women (see Jerusalem). It's only when Nazaret's ring road fires you into a labyrinthine sytem of one way cobbled streets and you begin to wonder if you'll ever get out again never mind find the TIC. Anyway, I found an excellent free backstreet parking place and went walking for that elusive TIC. On my way I came across the Orthodox Christian church- very nice if slightly cluttered (just like the ones I went into in Romania last Easter). I came across a cave which judging by the monumantal arches built to protect it was the site of something significant- shame it smelt like the stairwell of a 60's multi storey car park. I came across a street of car repair shops- each specialising in something different and nothing overlapped. There were exhaust places, brake places, suspension and welding shops- most of them full of grubby guys waiting for some business. waiting for business seems to be the major way of spending time here. Given that, the shop specialising in vehicle upholstery was the winner, those guys had very nice car seats upon which to lounge while they waited for business which I suspected would be a long time in coming.
I came across another market but unlike the one in Akko the tourists appeared to have found it, shops selling mobile phones and fake trainers vied for frontage. I decided to buy myself a vest (which in common slang is known as a 'wife beater') and found a stall with some displayed for NIS10- a couple of quid. The stallholder man spoke a little English, well enough to ask what a vest was called in English- well obviously a 'wife beater'. My joke went a little too far when he asked me to write it large on a piece of card to enhance his display, I should have taken a photo "wife beater NIS10" will get him some interest.

I tagged onto a group of middle aged English women (all 'churchy' types so I didn't look a bit out of place) and their excellent guide to get into the church of the Enunciation (or similar). The guide pointed out the most fantastic mosaic diplays provided by 100 different countries- when I say fantastic I gawped in awe at the beauty and marvelled at the skill used to make some of them. When the group stopped every 5 minutes for a reading I decided we should part company just in case it came round to my turn and I did the rest alone. The church, like so many was architecturally impressive and at three storeys high had a shaft from top to bottom lighting the cave at the base where the enunciation took place. As I so often do in such places I sat in deep contemplation interupted by a bit of people watching. It never ceases to sadden me (especially at the Vatican) how such oppulent religious buildings were built in a time and place where the money could have been used for something so much better. The poorest of people give what they can't afford because they are told it will save their souls or whatever.

The church exited on the top floor and hence higher up the hill and I went for a random wander around the backstreets and found a proper Souk market where nobody hassled me and I could poke around as I wished. Click on photo to see the Ibex.
By now I had seen everything Nazaret' had to offer and still not found the TIC. Time to leave.
South to Bet Shean and one of my best overnights, the town is obviously up and coming, surrounded by lakes and fertile fields. I picked a Kibbutz to stay at and followed a track through it's farm and factory parts (every Kibbutz has a farm and a factory) to turn up in a village of log cabins and blue lagoons fed by a spring within the grounds. It really was a great place to stay- never mind live. After driving out into the country to see the ruins of the original Belvoir Castle (it was shut) I raced back into Bet Shean to pick up some beer and pizza which I scoffed on my terrace before catching up with an episode of Extras on my Sky TV, a whole series I missed through the winter.