Garrett awoke in his hotel room surprisingly early and fresh on the morning of the 3rd, especially considering how he had spent the evening, and how much of the local rotgut he had imbibed in the wee hours of the morning. His grief was a pain that was ever present in the pit of his stomach, if dulled. They're gone.... They're gone, and I couldn't be there to say goodbye... Two hundred pounds to his name. -To a few of his professors, in similar veins, with brief personal notes about hopes and plans, and questions about their suggestions of what to do when trapped in the holy land. --Garrett