Old Acre and Squalid Walid's

After leaving the Miller's I set off for Akko, known to the world as Acre, the Crusader city and one of the two great historic ports of Israel (the other being Jaffa, from which I now write).

The ride was fairly long, but I got there before the buses shut down for Shabbat on Friday at dusk. From the bus station I took a cab to Walied's Akko Gate Hostel, where I'd reserved a room. I think I sent the reservation in November by both phone and email, with a confirmation from the place by both media, and notified them again of my arrival by email a week and a half ago.

Unfortunately, I'd been warned. Ben, the English course assistant and student of Byzantine studies at St. George's, had warned me of 'Squalid Walid's' (it works if you rhyme it). He had said that it was simply the worst place he'd ever been, and he's stayed far afield. "There aren't bed bugs," he admitted, "just one big bed bug: that atrocious man Walied." Nonetheless, confident in my inexpensive choice and advance reservation, I headed toward Walied's.

Upon arrival, I was told that they could not find my reservation. Well, after looking at their computer screen for all of ten seconds I found my reservation and my confirmation notice, not marked 'new' or 'unopened' in any way. But!, says Walied, "Is so late, is so late." It was 5:30 pm. After attempting the polite route I took the computer monitor and shook it, saying "Here's my reservation! It's right here! I made it in November and confirmed it two weeks ago!" To no avail: there was a large group of young Israelis coming in for Shabbat, and they had all the single rooms.

Instead, "because I want to help you" says the wretched man, he takes me to one of the dorm rooms. 'Room' is perhaps too strong a word, though, as it only had three walls. It was more of a large balcony, covered in tin roofing and lacking a fourth wall. The wall-less opening looks out to the street and a rubbish reap filled with rusty old chairs. It was truly the worst place imaginable.

However, I took it, the bed being a mere twelve dollars.

Pictured: My room (second floor), with rusty chairs and rubbish heap

The night was wretched, albeit in a hilarious way. My dorm mates were European continentals on holiday, smoking their way across Israel, and they opened the festivities by (sarcastically) complaining that the room, lacking an exterior wall, didn't have any windows. I have to admit, they set me in a good mood as I dozed off, tucked in my sleeping bag for fear of Squalid Walid's sheets.

At two in the morning, the street livened up with drunk teenagers. Eventually I got back to sleep by four, just in time for the 5:30 am call of the muzzein from the neighboring mosque. By that point, I was simply laughing.

Now, this ends well, I must admit, because Old Acre- which I took the following day to explore- is simply amazing. I've said Safed is like a cleaned up Old City Jerusalem. Old Acre is too, but moreso; it's an authentic mix of Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Baha'i, and Druze (in other words, all the religions in the Israeli rainbow), but it's less touristy, less tacky, totally cleaned up, and right by the seashore. In other words, I highly recommend it for a honeymoon.

It's hard to decide whether the highlight is the Crusader fortress, known as the Knight's Hall, or the port itself.

The Knight's Hall was the headquarters of the Knights Hospitaller following the defeat of the Crusaders at the Horns of Hattin by Saladin in 1187 and their subsequent withdrawal from Jerusalem. Here they ran a hospice for pilgrims, who were given medical treatment following their long journey and, of course, the Eucharist. For me, personally, it was meaningful to be here since it connected me with the long line of pilgrims who have trod this path before me.

The port is the other great feature of Old Acre, with its numerous restaurants and seaside walk. The old city sticks out on a promontory surrounded on three sides by water, which is what made it a strategic location throughout its three thousand year history. The fourth side is protected by the monumental Land Wall, which has a nice walk along its rampart. The Sea Wall, however, is a far more romantic walk, as the Land Wall appears to be under perpetual construction.

After a late lunch at the Abu Christo restaurant where I had some delicious 'sea fish,' I trekked back over to the bus station and caught the first bus to Tel Aviv-Jaffa.

For the record, Maria got here safely. We had a wonderful waterfront dinner in Old Jaffa. She's leaning on my shoulder as I finish typing. Wish us a good week running where Jesus walked.