Masada Mess – Part I

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with David Broza, but he’s an Israeli singer-songwriter with mad guitar skills, known across three continents (Asia, Europe, and North America) for writing and singing songs in three languages (Hebrew, Spanish, and English). I’ve heard him referred to as “the Israeli James Taylor,” “the Israeli Dave Matthews,” and “the Israeli Paul Simon.” Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s simply David Broza.

Last night, I had the incredible opportunity to see him perform a sunrise concert at the base of Masada (at the Roman ramp) – starting at 3:30 AM and going until the sun comes up. I wavered back and forth whether to go; the tickets and transportation costs were expensive (for Israeli standards) but it seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. After some convincing by my compadres, I decided to go. I mean, who wouldn't? And I don’t think I could have imagined it would have been as wild a night/morning as it was.

Eleven of us from school went to the show. The plan was to meet in front of HUC at 1AM, get on a rented mini-bus, arrive at Masada when the doors open at 2:30, get good seats, hang out, and then enjoy the amazing show. Then get back on the mini-bus, drive back to school, and either go to class or take a nap.

Easy enough.

At 1 AM, we’d all shown up (on time, which was a bit of a miracle in and of itself) at HUC, coffee, beer, ice cream, snacks, blankets, and cameras in hand, waiting for the mini-bus and driver to show up. Lisa, our fearless coordinator of the evening, called the driver. He said, “Oh, I’m coming, five more minutes.” Five minutes pass. Then ten. We call again.

“Oh, the police have pulled me over and I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

So now we’re in a whole other sort of balagan (mess). Sydney’s boyfriend, who is Israeli, asks, “Wouldn’t it be funny if he gets arrested?” About ten minutes later, he calls the driver back, and the driver tells him that he is arrested and going to jail, but no to worry because the bus company is sending a new driver.

Rock on.

There’s a lot of groaning and sighing – but this is Israel, what should we expect? That everything would go to plan?

Meredith and Josh head to the nearby gas station, pick up a bottle of vodka and pomegranate juice, and while we’re waiting, there’s some toasting to David Broza and our arrested driver. Jim and I work on a crossword. Ari takes pictures, then a nap. Nobody frets.

Around 2:30, the new driver arrives, and is told when we get into the car we need to go to the West Entrance. He says fine, and off we go. The first part of the ride is good, smooth and easy. To get to Masada from J’lem you have to drive through the West Bank, which at 3 AM is empty and beautiful. There’s a full moon, so the desert is lit up from above. The driver is going very fast, but the road is mostly straight so it’s fine. We nap, chat softly, await our arrival. We should be there just in time for the concert to start.

We get to Masada at 3:20, except wait! We’re at the East Entrance, the one where the snake trail and the gondola lead to, the one at the base of the Dead Sea. It’s closed. And we have to go all the way around the mountain. Of course, the driver has no idea how to go, the road is very, very windy, everybody is tired and cranky, and we’re late. And getting later.

As we drive and drive and drive, heading through the curvy mountain roads in the west bank of the Dead Sea, driving through Arad (Arad? Really?), Lisa feels very ill. Jim starts to feel ill. Lisa almost vomits a few times. Leslie curses at the driver. Ari and I, in the back of the bus, bounce around. There’s a very loud game of “Twenty questions” which no one can seem to hear the answers to, and so drones on and on. And on.

Will we get there in time? Will anyone throw up? Will I ever get some sleep? Will we ever have a good time?

Tune in tomorrow for: Masada Mess – Part II!