You cannot just go to see Israel. You must experience it, all of its layers, its conflicts and its evolution. In '69, I tried renting a car and going with friends but it was fruitless. None of us knew enough. We needed to be led by someone passionate, devoted, energetic and brilliant. To me, that meant none other than the historian, linguist and jokester, Ido Heruty who made Israel come alive for me in '05, and did it again this time in so many ways: from the biblical to the historical, from the natural to the developed, from the ancient to the modern, from engineering feats to acts of nature, from outdoor museums to indoor displays, from huge vistas to small details and who will teach, if one is willing to listen, an understanding of life in Israel, not just for today, but for thousands of years.
We arrived in Tel Aviv on Halloween, but you would never know it. The rain - four days worth - didn't dampen our spirits. What do you do when it rains on your plans to swim in natural streams and see outdoor sights under the sun, when clouds and downpours ruin the day? You have Ido, who slipped over mountains to avoid the malaise. In an hour we were in the Jordan Valley, under the sun, hooked by the kind of tree that once created Christ's crown of thorny branches, discussing water, why Israelis pray for it at the right time, and seeing herders bring the largest goats I've ever seen from the hilltop to a water source. With that we began to learn how life survives on arid land.
At a Jordan Valley memorial, we learned of the artist and his work and heard stories of the Six Day War, the Yom Kippur War, and twenty years of intermittent terrorist skirmishes there. We also heard of lost friends and read their names. That is how - avoiding rain - our 2009 story of Israel began
With the sun fading fast, and all of us hungry for dinner, Ido pulled up to some god forsaken patch of land on what stood a building that looked like an outhouse riddled with bullet holes. I thought he had lost his mind. We were supposed to be going for dinner . . . and we did . . . and it was wonderful.
My return to the Golan Heights and accommodations at the Peace Vista overlooking the Sea of Galilee were lovely barring the fact that is was cold and rainy most of it. Ido managed, between rain drops, to expose us to northern Israel, beginning with the powerful story of the "Valley of Tears," reinforced by a moving film and short drive to an overlook where one could imagine hundreds upon hundreds of Syrian tanks crossing the plains while pointing their guns at a small number of Israeli tanks who HAD to HOLD the line. It is amazing how instinct, intellect, bravery, brotherhood and commitment beat the odds. That morning, in wind and the chill, we saw a silent land mass and learned why holding the line during the Yom Kippur War was so important.
We stepped back into time, learning of Gamla and their post Herod rebellion against the Romans which led to their demise. Then, we went for a lite bite in a Druze town. Light? Forget it. Out came more soup and salads then we could have imagined. We didn't want to eat it all, but we couldn't help ourselves. It was too good. Then we headed for a visit with Tami, the owner, operator, and teacher of the Bell Ofri touristic-family farm and Ein Nashut Winery. Babi built it. Tomi teaches (and paints and sculpts and cooks and makes jewelry) kids in the old ways; pressing olives, collecting oil, baking bread and of course, making wine. After a tour, we sat in their charming restaurant to enjoy what Tami prepared for us though none of us were hungry after our "bite" at a Druze place. Happily Tomi joined in the discussion of the politics of the day, which brought out her fierce love of country. It was a most interesting evening!!
In Tsfat (Safed), it poured so hard, my sneakers took three days to dry. We had fun anyway thanks to a guard at city hall, who took pity on us and let us use its bathroom. After relief, we snacked on what Ido said is the best (I thought the Druze place the day before was best) falafel in the country. We braved the weather, ambled down streets that were more like rivers, explored ancient synagogues and wandered into artist shops. It was charming, even in the downpour.
We ended our coldest and wettest day sipping wine at our Kibbutz's (Kibbutz Kfar Haruv) elegant new Spa and floating in its hot mineral pools overlooking the sea. Soon we were warm as toast and happy, happy, happy. The next morning, as we departed the Golan Heights, we stopped at an overlook to see where the Jordan River feeds into the Sea. Despite it being the blood line of Israel, the Jordan looked more like a brook than a river. As you can see, it is hardly visible.
Along the coast of the Sea, we met up with the story of Jesus Christ, who arrived at the prosperous Capernaum centuries before us, after having been cast out of Nazareth. Here he met and was befriended by Peter and here his philosophies of Jewish law ripened.
Churches built hundreds of years after the fact commemorate spots along the Galilee where Jesus is said to have turned two fish into food for four thousand, and where he is said to have healed someone by the laying on of his hands. Another church is near the sea where Peter cleansed him of sins. We visited all of them.
We drove south to Tiberius and crossed the Jordan River as it flowed out of the Sea. Amazingly, close up, it still looked like a brook. Just south of the city center, we were on a ramp of a Roman Amphitheater where gladiators once entertained the throngs.
Down the road we arrived at a working Kibbutz where a sixth century Synagogue with the most beautiful mosaic floor in Israel had recently been uncovered.
Then, it was straight on to Jerusalem. Seeing the Temple Mount in the Old City walls on our arrival at dusk was breath taking.
It didn't look bad the next morning either, even if my sister did pop her head in the way. This is where Ido lectured us so we could get insight into the logistics of the City of David before rushing to see its introductory video.
The City of David wasn't there to see in '05. In just four years, Israel peeled away another layer of civilization to expose and honor its past - as it is constantly doing - so we were able to walk through tunnels that women - in King David's time - used as their path to water. It was hard to imagine their strength. Our unburdened walk was not easy and we were going down, not up.
We explored the old city, and watched the beautiful light of the sun coming down over the Temple Mount and Wailing Wall before heading home, exhausted.
Yad Vashem can take a day, easily. People say they have been to a holocaust museum so they don't need to go to this one, but this one is different. It deals more with life than death. How that is achieved amazes me, but the last two times I have been there, I have come away feeling that behind every inch of everything that stands there; forests, sculptures, and the many buildings and exhibits lies a determination to honor life and those who risked theirs to save that of others. Symbolism is everywhere, like the sculpture of abbreviated pillars that stand at the entrance to the children's memorial.
We took a break after for lunch and then visited the Hertzl Memorial where we saw the most engaging multimedia, multi-room production I have ever seen. It was of the visionary leader of the Zionist movement. The presentation was unforgettable, as was Hertzl.
Then we had a choice to return to Yad Vashem or do other things. I missed much of the main museum in '05 and was eager to see it in the full this time, so I went back with a few of the others. Just inside the entrance's huge wall was a loop film of everyday life in the towns and shetles of Europe. Watching it set the emotional stage for what was to come. Moving forward, we met political change - Hitler's rise to power, the escalating troubles, the anti-Jewish laws, anti-Jewish actions, and the efforts for survival. Sections focused on different times or places. Each had videos of survivor interviews, life-size photos, newsreels and blown up headlines and newspaper articles. It all worked to make events come alive, to make you think, not cry, but think.
YAD VASHEM IS A PERFECT MUSEUM OF AN IMPERFECT TIME.
We started Shabbat morning at a dig, well not an actual dig, but almost. After a short "class", we cleaned and shifted through what was left for rubble (from the old city) looking for tile, glass, jewelry, ceramic, bones and coins from the Old City's past.
It was a hoot and totally unexpected and we really did find the stuff in this picture!
Then we began a pilgrimage of the important Christian sites of the Old City. It was in this Synogogue turned church that Jesus is said to have had his last supper. While Ido explained, a group of travelers began to sing. The walls shook with their raised voices. The sound was wonderful and it spoke to their passion.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre houses five denominations, each with its own alter. This mosaic is beside an alter over where Christ is said to have been nailed to the cross.
We took a half day for an excursion outside of Jerusalem, and in about an hour were at Bet Guvrin-Maresha. We looked at chalk stone, learned about water cisterns, and appreciated foliage that could live off rock.
Then Ido picked up a leaf, asked if we knew what it was and said, "This was man's first suit." It was a fig leaf. I tell you, if I ever see one again, I will roar with laughter. The story stood out as he demonstrated. That was our first laugh of the day. Seeing it shrivel as the day went on was our second.
Yes, the caves were magnificent. Like everything else we saw, one had to marvel at the engineering skills of people in the 2nd and 3rd century. What will I remember most (after the fig leaf)? - that a carat is an ancient measure equivalent to the weight of a carob seed and that no matter the size of the pod the carob seed comes from, all seeds are equal.
You could never tell from the landscape that there was a labyrinth of caves to store water, raise birds, and live underground in, can you?
We spent another morning in the Old City and then drove to Ein Gedi, where everything we did was fun - swimming in the waterfalls, sending my sister off to climb Masada (by herself), exploring Masada once we rendezvoused with her, floating in the Dead Sea, muddying down, floating in the mineral baths and taking the most hysterical pictures. Too bad my camera's lens didn't open. I took a million amazing shots but I didn't realize until two days had gone by that they wouldn't be amazing. In this case, I wouldn't mind my head being cut off but Rosalind donated a better picture so here you have it.
At the Jordanian border, someone turned on the music. It was as automatic as the wind blowing curtains when Rosalind began moving to it. The music got a little louder and Rosalind, who was looking at souvenirs, started dancing more. Then the gorgeous young store keeper came over, "Wait, I have something for you" and dressed her in baubles and bangles.
He couldn't let a good thing go bye without a little dancing of his own.
and then more baubles and bangles. Check out the glittering stuff on her ankles and arms.
Want to see Rosalind let loose, just make her put on lots of regalia. She was terrific. Can you see the guy calling his friends on the phone? Word is that everyone within a five mile radius heard of a great American dancer at the border crossing.
When we finally stopped laughing, we were in a jeep riding through the Wadi Rum, an ancient river bed with gorgeous rock formations.
We arrived at the Taybet Zaman Hotel, a charming "village" resort hotel. This was my room.
Our Jordanian guide, who worried about Rosalind's neck after it REALLY started killing her, suggested that we book a Turkish bath.
A Turkish bath? What's that? We were really thinking massage, not Turkish bath.
Oh, the desk clerk said, everyone gets a little massage; it is part of the package.
Should we have dinner first?
No, it is best to do the bathes first.
Should we take clothes so we can go directly to dinner?
You can.
Are there showers there?
Yes, you can take whatever you like. Don't worry. Everything can be locked up.
What do we wear?
The poor guy couldn't believe how many questions we had. Finally, he said, do not worry about what to wear. (We didn't get the hint.) Okay, yes, bathing suits are good." So, we signed up.
Well, everything we were told was true, in a fashion. There were cubby holes for locking up things - very little things. And we could wear bathing suits, but not without making everyone in the finishing room howl with laughter, so much so that we paddled back to the dressing room and replaced the bathing suits with the thin sheets that someone suggested. As for the bathes, they were steam rooms, not baths, and when we got in the fog of steam and sat down on the stone benches, we nearly hit the roof, they were so hot. Thank goodness for the running water and rather large ladle resting next to it. If we didn't throw water on the stone there would be some sorry asses returning to the States. After lots of laughing at each other, no missed skin, our moment of truth arrived. It came in the form of a handsome, scantily dressed masseuse who was to take care of us each - individually. One by one, we went into a private room where he nonchalantly began sponging us down. It was silent in there for most of the time, but then I heard the first of us whose turn it was to go start laughing. What happened, I wondered.
When she came out - redfaced - she said, he asked me to turn around. The thing is, the sheet didn't turn with me.
That made us all howl -until the next of us went -and the same thing happened and those of us who were left howled some more. One thing is for sure, our skin never felt so good and our Turkish bath experience left us with a glow, not just of embarrassment, but of good fun. Oh, is that one of us sneaking back to her room?
The Nabataeans founded Petra at the most amazing, easily defendable site because of its narrow canyon approach that goes on for miles.
The Nabataeans had the ability to save themselves from flash floods, and carve an aqueduct right into the stone so that water could flow freely to the city center.
And, they had the skill to carve magnificent buildings right into the mountains.
Seeing all of Petra required more than the 5 ½ hours we had. The walk alone was miles. We could ride part of the way and some of us did.
When we got back from Petra, it was too late to take advantage of the beautiful weather in Eilat. The pool was so inviting, but without a lifeguard on duty, its use was forbidden. At this point in the trip, all of us wanted a little R & R in the sun, but as usual, we ran out of light and time. That's what happens when you travel in winter, want to see as much as possible, and have a guide who can do "Show and Tell" everywhere and of everything. So, rather than spend the morning in Eilat, we began to work our way back to Tel Aviv via the dessert, where we spent the day seeing an amazing natural crater and learning of the geological forces that created it,
paying our respects in the Ben Gurion Nation Park and enjoying its wildlife
and seeing Beer Sheva, and learning a bit of its economic and moral history.
Our last day was spent entirely at fascinating (yes, though it was my third time there) Caesarea. The day was perfect. (Thank-you Ido for shifting the itinerary so we could be there on a nice day instead of when it poured.)
We had come so far, done so much and learned so much that enjoying Shabbat by the sea, at a casual, slow pace was wonderful. Caesarea is inspiring. In '69, I thought it was marvelous and then, it was a mere fraction of what one can find today. In '05, I spent hours there and hadn't seen everything and believe it or not, this time, the park closed before we got our fill but not before we took wonderful pictures of ruins and each other.
and once again, night fell on us.
After another great trip, it was difficult saying good-bye to my sister, to Israel and to Ido. About all everyone could manage to say as we were getting ready to go back to the real world was, "Where are we going next time?"
