Our last day in Nazareth was a bit of a bust. During the night, I’d had a quarter-life crisis about what I plan to do with my life (and for those of you who know me and my tendency to plan out my life, this is not an unusual occurrence.) Jessie and I both awoke on the wrong side of our beds and we snarled our way down to the bus station. After another two hours of awaiting buses that never came, we decided to take a taxi ride to and from Tiberius. Well, as it was a Saturday, all of Tiberius was closed. Apparently there are more Jewish inhabitants there than Arab. Well the town was dirty, touristy, and in a grand state of dishabille. The sky had turned so foggy that we couldn’t see a thing. We stuck our feet in the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus called the disciples to become fishers of men, calmed the seas, and walked on water, and then we caught another taxi back home to the convent, where after a long nap, our moods improved beyond recognition. We trekked it down the hill, back to the shawarma joint and enjoyed shawarma, coffee, and pastries. The call to prayer followed us home.
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