Mount Sinai

I woke up at 2:15 a.m. -- a minor miracle, considering that I regularly go to bed much later. I pulled on some clothes and nodded a curt hello to the camp owner as I set off for the mountain. A minibus kindly gave me a ride to the monastery ("No money, no honey, no problem").

Busloads of tour groups were arriving and starting the hike up the mountain. The others were armed with sneakers, flashlights, climbing poles, guides, and blankets. All I had were my trusty Teva flip-flops (my good hiking sandals died an hour before I had to catch my flight to Brussels). I fell in behind a group of Italians and let their flashlights light my path.

After about 500 feet we were offered the option of renting camels for $17 each way. Considering that I was half-asleep and wearing completely unsuitable shoes (the most suitable i had packed), I realized this was a terrific deal. For two hours, me, my camel, and the guide climbed steadily up the mountain. The trail was completely dark, lit only by the flashlights of people ahead and behind me.

Finally, the camel could go no further and I was on my own to climb the 700 final steps to the summit. I climbed as fast as I could, enjoying the delicious cool morning air. Finally, there was nowhere else to climb, and I -- with about 200 other people -- was standing on the sight where Moses received the Ten Commandments from God. Most of the people seemed to be pilgrims, clutching prayer books and praying fervently.

I found a seat and recited every prayer I could remember as I watched the sun rise over the mountains. Any questions I had ever had about the existence of God or the power of faith were put to rest forever as I took in the glorious view.

After about half an hour, I was ready to head back down the mountain. I carefully climbed/slid down the 700 steps to the camel rest point, hired a camel, and told the guide I wanted to be dropped off at the village, not the monastery. We set off for the long, steep climb down.

I don't know if you've ever tried to ride a camel down a hill or mountain, but I really don't recommend it. Climbing up was fine, great even. But climbing down was so incredibly painful that I quickly decided to scrap the camel idea altogether. Unfortunately, I still had to pay for the camel and the guide to find my way back safely.

The wonder of the experience quickly wore off as I half-walked, half-slid down the mountain at the end of a six-hour trip on two hours of sleep and an empty stomach. But I can't wait to go to synagogue and re-read the Torah with this experience in my mind and heart.