Iām behind the ball in talking about Israel. Melanie and I visited back in late April through early May. Itās a place Iāve long put off visiting for a few reasons. Namely, thereād always be a flare-up in the conflict right before weād finally pull the trigger on buying a flight: the evictions of Palestinians in Sheikh Jarrah and the subsequent barrage of rocket fire from terrorists based in Gaza, to name a couple.
But late last year, we saw something that looked like a good deal to fly to Israel. So with a bit of a āfuck it, you only live onceā attitude, we booked our trip. I think we both knew it would never be the perfect time to go to Israel. Not anytime soon, anyways.
Our trip starts in Tel Aviv. Itās gorgeous. Middle Eastern South Beach comes to mind. And the foodā¦ Please permit me an āoyā of unbelievable pleasure because this country and region must be one of the best places to eat on the planetāādoubly so for a vegetarian. Simply put, we did not have a bad meal on this trip. Only favorites. (I think for both of us, it was a mix of dishes at Bicicleta.)
As we do in so many places, we started imagining what it would be like to live there. Melanie was especially drawn to the beach and the long bike / running path that extends into surrounding parks. But the rose-colored glasses quickly faded back to reality on the train to Jerusalem.
This is a highly militarized nation.
Once youāre in Jerusalem, or heading that way, you can hardly go a few minutes without seeing soldiers who look like children holding massive weapons that they sling nonchalantly over their shoulders while playing some mindless game on their iPhones. Later, we mentioned this to my cousin who stayed with at the end of the trip in Pardes Hanna-Karkur. Sheās spent most of her life in Israel at this point but admitted it took some getting used to, even as her own children entered the military.
Then thereās the religiosity. I was not raised in any faith tradition. And frankly, itās not something I ever felt like I missed out on. At most, I get a little tired explaining that I wasnāt bar mitzvahed when we meet up with friends at a monthly Shabbat get-together thatās essentially just an excuse to nosh and schmooze with people who get why Curb is funny. In the grand scheme, Iām quite happy with how my parents raised me in the tradition of ājust donāt be a dick.ā (Not their exact words, but certainly the gist.)
This is all to say that the non-religious (or the heathens, however, you like) among us tend to feel a bit out of place in Jerusalem. In our limited interactions with younger Israelis who appeared to either be less or not religious at all, they were clearly eager to explore life someplace else. But for the overwhelming majority of folks with some level of observance, Jerusalem was the place to be. It was Vegas for a gambler.
Iām not saying I didnāt like Jerusalem. To the contrary, our tour through Machane Yehuda Market may have been our favorite part of the entire trip. We ate Jewish food Iād never tasted or even heard of before. And it was phenomenal.
Nonetheless, I felt a bit guilty traipsing around the old city and visiting the Wailing Wall. I wasnāt motivated by some spiritual yearning or desire to see what many of my ancestors mustāve earnestly clamored for when they said, āNext year in Jerusalem!ā at the end of their Seders. I found myself at the Wailing Wall merely because skipping it while already in Jerusalem wouldāve been obnoxious.
But if you think youāll feel just as out of place in Jerusalem, then youāre not ready for Safed (or Tzefat). We found ourselves in this northern Israeli town at the recommendation of my cousinās son. This, we were told, would be a good place to set up camp for some hikes.
In that, he was not wrong. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, shuffling along the Israel National Trail. And the town itself was remarkable. If I beamed you over there, youād think you were in some Greek island town.
What we werenāt prepared for was that Safed is a popular Chabad hub. If youāre not familiar with Chabad, itās a Jewish organization thatās basically as evangelical as you can get within Judaism. But only evangelical to other Jews.
So unless youāre a member of this movement, thereās not much for you to do around hereāāother than leave and go hike in the nearby forests. You can certainly walk around town, and you should, but thatās about it.
Although we were certainly out of our comfort zone, we were both glad we went and experienced it. Thatās partly what travel is about, right? I actually left admiring that Safed hasnāt turned into some tourist wonderland when it very easily could. Itās a place first and foremost for their community. Take it or leave it.
That said, we did skip town a day earlier than planned to head to the inexplicably named Acre (or Acme Acres, as I started calling it). I say āinexplicablyā because nobody seems to call it that, yet thatās what youāll find on Google Maps. Everyone calls it Akko.
This, like Tel Aviv, was more our speed and reminded me a bit of my time in Jordan. The souk is ancient and winding, but not overwhelming like Marrakesh. And you forget youāre in the Jewish state with the Muslim call to prayer echoing throughout the day (and very early morning).
While at the beach, an older gentleman chatting in Arabic with some friends introduced himself. I assume he spotted an opportunity to dust off his English. Heās in charge of the port, he said, and grew up in the area. Though heās lived elsewhere, nothing beats Akko, in his mind.
I do love me some local pride. Nothing bores me more than people who just kvetch about where they live.
Our last stop took us to Pardes Hanna-Karkur to meet my cousin, the wonderfully gracious host, Dina. She met us at the train station and it strangely did feel like meeting familyāāeven though weād never met in person before that visit. Iām usually skeptical of my observations, suspicious that I might be manifesting a pleasant narrative. But after spending the day together, Dina admitted that she, too, could sense a familial resemblance.
Pardes reminded me of Scottsdale on a road diet. Thereās a bit of hippy dip flare to the region. In other words, if youāre not feeling well, I bet someone in Pardes has a crystal to fix you right up.
We spent our last 24-ish hours in Israel perusing the shops at the old horse stables-turned-artisan hub, running around a new local trail in Pardes right outside Dinaās home, and popping over to Caesariaāāan ancient Roman port town. The ruins are remarkably intact and you can walk across them. Itās the kind of place that makes Dina feel lucky to live where she lives. I can still feel the ocean breeze whipping across my skin as we gazed across the archeological marvel.
And that was Israel, a wildly complicated place full of beauty, tension, frustration, peace, strife, justice, injustice, and the list goes on.
If you followed along on Instagram, you may have noticed we spent a day in Bethlehem, Palestine. That video will be released this coming Sunday, June 11th and Iāll talk more about that in the next one.