We checked out of the hotel this morning, and had a briefing on the current Middle East situation. The speaker was a funny British guy, but despite his attempts to inject levity into the talk (hey, a Family Guy clip!), it was extremely disturbing. Not only is Israel surrounded by Arab nations who exhibit varying degrees of hostility toward even the idea of a Jewish state, but it's just so very tiny. The speaker showed us a clip of a children's show they air on a Hezbollah TV station in (i think) Lebanon, where a Mickey Mouse lookalike advocates martyrdom to children, and encourages them to hate Jews. Plus, one of the women in our group came in, right before the talk started, to inform Rachel (the 12-year old girl) and her grandmother that there was a "heightened terror alert," and that it was a good thing they were "evacuating" us tonight. She didn't tell anyone else this (I was sitting behind Rachel, which is how I overheard it), plus, our flight has been scheduled for tonight for months...so...they're not "evacuating" anyone.*

After the talk, we went to see "Lifeline for the Elderly," which is a workshop where old people can come in and make crafts in exchange for food and money. The work they do is pretty amazing - everything from metalworking to embroidering to painting - but it felt just a tad sweat-shoppy. Next we went to the Herzl Museum, which was very silly. They were trying to present Herzl's life story in an engaging way - there were a series of videos about an actor who will be playing Herzl in a theatre production, and his director is trying to get him to "understand" Herzl (and, by extension, telling us Herzl's life story). The acting was dreadful, though. Afterwards, we visited the cemetary on Mount Herzl, where Herzl himself is buried (as well as Itzhak Rabin, Golda Meir, and Hannah Senesh). It was a very pretty cemetary, and Phillip showed us a friend's grave and told us a story about him. Phillip said that everyone in Israel knows someone who has died in either a war or as a result of terrorism. If that's true, it's depressing.

We briefly saw the outside of the Knesset (sorta like the capitol building of Israel) and then went to our final destination: a "Bible Nature Reserve." It was hot and buggy and dull - the big claim to fame is that all the plants grown there are mentioned in the Bible. And really, it's just plants. There was an army practice range nearby, and we could hear constant artillery and gunfire, which was pretty cool. When we were looking at an ancient cistern, the guide pointed out that to our left we could see the Tel Aviv skyline, and to our right we could see an Arab village that was part of Jordan until 1967. From 1948 until 1967, there were only nine miles of Israel separating Jordan from Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean. So wee!

Our last meeting and dinner were a little emotional, and it all went by very quickly.

[July 9]: The flight home was very easy. I slept for 8 of the 12 hours, and watched "300."

*[non-journal note: When we got to the airport that night, I scoured the newspapers to see what was going on that there was a "heightened terror alert," and found nothing. When we got home, I went online and poked around...still nothing. I have no idea where she got the idea that there was a heightened alert, and it makes me all the more irritated that this woman decided to terrify ONLY a young girl and her elderly grandmother by spreading this apparently unfounded gossip.]

It's Shabbat, and the whole day is free!! Except, nothing is open, so there's not much to do. Adam and I slept in (I had nightmares all night about bombs and plane crashes), and then lounged around watching TV until lunch. After lunch, we walked around the Old City. The Jewish Quarter was predictably deserted. The Armenian Quarter was also pretty quiet (and there were eerie genocide maps everywhere), and the Christian Quarter was full of Muslim vendors who were on the pushy side. We exited via the Jaffa gate (there was a camel there!) and walked down King David Street to see the Montefiore windmill. Having exhausted ourselves in the heat, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging at the hotel's pool. After Havdallah, we went back to Emek R'faim Street for kosher burgers.

I can't believe it's our last night in Israel. I'm not homesick at all; there's so much to do here, and it's so easy to be an observant Jew when everyone else is doing it.

I didn't do a whole lot today. Everyone went to Yad Vashem in the morning (the Holocaust Museum), but I opted out for varying reasons. I took a taxi to meet up with the group for lunch at the Ben Yehuda marketplace, which was insanely crowded. Everyone was stocking up for shabbat. I stocked up on gummies. We took the bus to an Ethiopian community, and met with a woman who had fled to Israel 17 years ago with her children. Phillip had to translate for us, because she didn't speak English (but did speak Hebrew), so it was an abbreviated version of her story, I imagine. Early into her (two-year) trek to Israel, which was apaprently mostly on foot, she was robbed. This provoked a collective pity-gasp from the group - that special sound that affluent people make when they hear about the plight of someone they don't really care about, but feel they should care about. Maybe I'm just being cynical, but it definitely struck me as a false, forced reaction. Especially since as her story progressed, and worse and worse things kept happening to her (and her travel companians), people never again made the sound. Eh, it was weird.



We went to the Kotel for shabbat. It turns out they don't actually have any sort of services there, but there are a ton of people who come out to pray on their own. You're not allowed to take photos, smoke, or use your cell phone at the Kotel during Shabbat, but I still saw people doing all of those things. It's sort of strange, because women always have to have their upper arms/shoulders covered, as well as their upper legs/knees, and they have women who sit there with scarves, ready to forcibly cover any woman who has dared let some of her naughty lady-skin show. But, they don't say a word to photo-taking, cell-phone talking smokers on shabbat. Well, actually I saw one guy get yelled at for taking a photo. But anyway, they were a lot more lenient about the shabbat restrictions than the women's restrictions. Oh and also, there's no dress code for men. Short pants & sleeves abounded. I think I would be less irritated by all this if I had grown up knowing it was this way. But, I didn't, and it just seems outdated and sexist. There are lots of differing standards between men and women in Israel, and studying reform Judaism in American doesn't really prepare you for this.

This morning we toured the underground tunnels of the Kotel. It was a little dull, but we did see a spot on the (underground) wall that is the very closest point to the holy site, and there were three women praying there. The exit to the tunnels leads you into the Muslim quarter, and apparently at some point there were some "issues" with Jewish groups coming through, so we had a "security detail" lead us out.



It seemed to actually draw more attention to us, and seemed totally unnecessary. There were no incidents; the only remotely "hostile" things I saw were two t-shirts - one said "Free Palestine" and the other said "Visit Israel Before It Visits You," with a drawing suggesting Israel was expanding with an intention to take over the world. Neither seemed terribly threatening. Ironically, the street we had to be escorted on was the Via Dolorosa, which contains many (all?) of the stations of the cross. So, there were as many Christian tourists as there were Muslims.

We also saw an old archeological dig next to the Temple Mount, where archeologists have uncovered remnants of another gate (Robinson's) and a Herodian-era street. It was super hot out, but not at all humid, so I got my first "dry heat" experience. It was neat.

After lunch at a crappy mall, our group (the Beth El Hebrew people) met up with our partnership community, Beit Shemesh. We saw a winery (Nachson), which was much smaller than the Golan Heights one, and then we went to an urban kibbutz to have a "dialogue" (where we read a poem, and then people all interpreted it in an identical way, just using different words).



The funny thing about the dialogue was that the theme was trying to communicate with and understand others (other people/cultures/etc.), but one of the women in our group seemed to think that the kibbutz members were implying that Americans don't have a sense of community, and was very indignant about it. She just kept repeating herself, trying to give examples of how Americans do in fact have a sense of community, and the kibbutz members kept trying to reassure her that they were not saying Americans don't have a sense of community. So, the dialogue about communication was plagued with a lack thereof. The kibbutz itself was cool, though - it's still very new, so the atmosphere is much more connected with the Marxist ideals that kibbutzes tend to be founded on. They have a carpool system (and only three cars for the sixty some people who live there), and the kibbutz owns most of the apartments (rather than the residents owning them). There were also these fun mosaics everwhere that the kids had created.



We made a brief stop to "plant" a tree (the hole was already dug, the sapling was in it; we just had to push dirt into the hole) and then went to a Kurdish home for dinner, music and dancing. They had all these crazy sculptures in their yard, and the food was pretty great. They served a stew-type thing, which was a welcome break from falafel.

Today started with another view of Jerusalem, this time from the Haas Promenade (hilltop opposite Mount Scopus). Phillip told us more stories from the 1948 War of Independence (when Israel lost the Old City) and the 1967 Six Day War (when Israel acquired the Old City). The Haas Promenade is supposedly where Abraham made his decision to sacrifice Isaac - the stone where he actually bound Isaac is located on the Temple Mount, under the Dome of the Rock. Guess who's allowed to visit? Only Muslims. Even though I've got a very clear and obvious bias in favor of Jewish rights in Israel, and admittedly know very little about Islam, it seems rather unfair to keep all non-Muslims from entering the Dome of the Rock. When Israel conquered the Old City in 1967, the leadership was determined to keep all holy sites open to anyone and everyone who wanted to visit them. Not just Jews. For some reason, which I'm still unclear about, the Muslims are allowed to decide who visits the Dome of the Rock (even though it's firmly within the boundries of the Old City), even though their holy mosque is the one next door to the Dome - the Al-Aqsa. Christians and Jews alike certainly have an interest in seeing the spot where G-d supposedly first appeared to Abraham (per my understanding).*

Our next stop was the City of David, where we splish-splashed through Hezekial's Tunnel (underground tunnels that used to bring water into Jerusalem). We were warned that the tunnels are very small, so anyone who had claustrophobia should probably avoid it (hey, where was the warning for people with fears of heights??). Everyone kept asking me if I was "going to be okay" in the tunnels. Which is a very silly question, as narrow underground tunnels are the EXACT OPPOSITE of heights. Furthermore, I happen to love tiny enclosed spaces. So, the tunnel was a high point for me. Being 5'2, I hardly had to duck at all.

After the tunnel, we went to the Old City via the Zion Gate. Phillip showed us all the bullet holes pockmarking the gate, as a result of the wars (Independece & Six Day).



The Zion Gate brings you in via the Armenian Quarter, which we passed through (seeing a great view of the Mount of Olives on the way) to get to the Jewish Quarter. The Jewish Quarter was tiny, and touristy, and looked quite old. In fact, none of it is older than 1967, because it was pretty much razed during the Independence War. Phillip gave us lots of shopping time, but things were very trinkety and I was tourist-shoppinged-out. Our last stop before a free evening was the Western Wall (a.k.a. Wailing Wall; Kotel). It's a very small strip of wall, with a larger men's side (the one closer to the Dome of the Rock, i.e. closer to the holy site) and a smaller women's side (made even smaller by the construction of the ramp going up to the Temple Mount).



People were grasping at the wall, crying and davening and singing, and I felt stupidly non-spiritual. Maybe it will come to me? I put a note in the wall for the rabbi (he had asked the kids at our synagogue to write notes, and then split them up between a few of us).

Adam and I spent our evening exploring Ben Yehuda Street. There are tons of restaurants, shops, and tourists (plus a bunch of youth hostels, which meant cheap internet cafes!).

*[non-journal note: A day or two later, I will learn that the Muslims contol the entire Temple Mount, and while all tourists are supposedly allowed to visit it - via Muslim-run tours - they forbid Jews to say any prayers there. Even just when walking around. Now, admittedly, this bit of information comes from Phillip, who sometimes calls Muslims "the enemy," so it could very well be an exaggeration/fabrication. He also said that while there are still remnants of the Second Temple on the Temple Mount, the Muslims have been systematically destroying them and tossing the remains in landfills. I just want to say, I don't have anything against Muslims, and I don't know enough about their religion/culture to give any of this a fair assessment. It's easy to get really angry when someone says "Jews can't visit their holiest site because of x group of people," but I've got to keep in mind that things are more complex than that, and it's a really bad idea to jump to conclusions & judgments.]

This was the longest day of my life. We woke up at 3:00am and left to pick up the kids at the ranch at 4:15. Breakfast was a wee cup of "instant" coffee at the hotel. But, for all the griping, we slogged up Masada and staked out a good spot on top of the bathhouse before dawn. We took the Roman ramp up, and it was pretty smooth going. The sunrise was really lovely, and so fast! I don't think I had ever seen a real sunrise before, and I didn't realize how quickly it comes up. We toured just a small portion of Masada (apparently there's a ton to see), and by 8:00am I realized the real reason we had gotten there so early. The heat was already unbearable. I watched new arrivals trekking up the mountain and felt a little sorry for them. The last thing we did before descending was go to the edge of Masada (basically a cliffside) and shout into the gorge created between Masada and a neighboring mountain. It creates this neat echo effect, and sounds like there's a whole army of people shouting back at you from the other mountain. I had a bit of a panic on the cliffside, as I'm pretty scared of heights. I'm okay when there's a barrier (solid and at least chest-high) between me and the drop-off, but here there was just a rickety bar (waist high). Unfortunately, this was just a foreshadowing of what was to come - the "snake path." I thought it was named for its inhabitants (snakes rank juuust above heights in my fear hierarchy), and was relieved to find out it's just really twisty and windy. My relief vanished when I saw that the path consisted of slippery pebbles and rocks, was about four feet wide, and had a terrifyingly steep drop-off on the side not bordered by mountain. No railings or anything. It took me and Adam about an hour to get down, me whimpering/crying the whole way down, and Adam patiently letting me grip his hand/arm with my clawing fingers. Keep in mind also that the sun was beating down on our side of the mountain for the duration of the descent. Next time I'll take the cable car!



We had a dreadfully crappy breakfast at the Masada guest house, and then headed to Ein Gedi. We hiked to a waterfall and it was really beautiful.



Our next stop was the Dead Sea; on our way, we stopped at the Ahava factory store, where they gave a "presentation" about their line of Dead Sea skin care products.* One of the women on the trip just had a beauty supply freakout and bought four gigundo bags' worth of Ahava stuff.

The Dead Sea was a pretty neat experience. As you may or may not know, the Dead Sea (actually a lake, I think) has a very high saline content - something like 8 times that of the ocean. Before we got off the bus, we were warned not to swallow the water or get it near any head orifice. Further, we were warned not to pee in it - apparently the sensation is excruciating. Floating in it was fun - it's a weird sensation, because when you walk through it, it feels all thick and syrupy and oily, and then when you bend down to get your shoulders in, all of a sudden you can't help but topple into floating. The first time I did this I was taken by surprise, and I splashed myself just a little on the lip. Oh my, did it burn. Also, I had some cuts on my feet from the snake path, and they burned like crazy. When I got out of the water, the cuts were all open and gross. The funnest thing about the Dead Sea is seeing people walk around covered in the mud that coats the bottom.

After the Dead Sea, we were off to Jerusalem. Phillip was all jacked up about our "first sight of Jerusalem." He kept telling us to think about how our ancestors would have felt, seeing the holy city. This made me feel a little crappy, as my ancestors are Catholic Italians. Nevertheless, Jerusalem was very beautiful from Mount Scopus (our first stop; also the location of Hebrew University and the Hadassah hospital) - I could see the walls of the Old City and the Dome of the Rock.

We were given a rare free evening, so Adam and I shook off the rest of the group and went to walk around Emek R'faim (sp?) street. We got dinner at an Asian restaurant (it was so awesome to eat something other than falafal and pita) and shopped a little, then crashed at our hotel.

*[non-journal note: I manage to go my whole life without listening to pitches for so-called miraculous beauty products, and then along comes July and I get not one but TWO pitches! Ahava & Arbonne (which Mel's friend is selling). It's a shame I'm not more interested in this stuff.]

This morning we checked out of the kibbutz and went to Haifa. We very briefly saw the B'Hai Gardens from above, and then split off into two groups (our tour group is made up of two synagogues: Alexandria's Beth El Hebrew, and Beth El, from Washington state). The Beth El Hebrew group (my group) went to see a junior high/high school for Israel's progressive Judaism movement (similar to American reform). Apparently the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington (D.C.) has some sort of ties to the school, and one of the members of our group was representing the Federation, so there you have it. It was a neat school. They had one room that's dedicated to memorializing students/alums who had died, and one of the girls was my sister's age (and died in 2003). It was really sad, and it made me miss my sister (who is NOT dead, and I therefore have no excuse for not speaking with her more frequently...). Haifa was targeted last summer during the war, and the kids who were at the school for summer camp were herded down to a subterranean parking garage avoid the rockets. The woman who was representing the Federation not only wanted to go see the parking garage, but proceeded to photograph it once we were down there. It looked just like a parking garage. With cars and all. The lady was sort of nutty (she's the one who made an ass out of herself at the IDF soldier dinner).

Our next destination was Ceasarea. It's all ruins now (and rebuilt tourist museums), but it used to be a sort of marina that Herod built. He built a whole boardwalky-type thing out into the Mediterranean, using cement blocks to anchor it all down. Needless to say, it didn't last long, thanks to the water and the weather. You can't really see any of the ruins of the marina anymore, but there's an old amphitheater and a chariot racetrack/gladiator pit.*

Our final stop of the night was a Bedouin ranch near Adar, in the Judean desert (south of Jerusalem). Although I had anticipated the camel ride for months, it turns out that riding camels is completely not fun. They're mean, bitey, kicky animals. The dinner was served in a giant tent, and we got to sit on cushions on the floor and eat with our hands. I had a kabob that I thought was chicken, but which was in fact goat. After dinner there was a short coffee/music presentation, and then bedtime. Before the trip, the trip organizers had sent around an email asking who wanted to stay in a hotel, and who wanted to "camp" in "tents" at the Bedouin ranch. Adam and I signed up for the camping. Much to our chagrin, upon arriving at the ranch, we realized it was not "camping" in the sense of "everyone gets a tent." No, they just had gigundo tents with mats spread out on the ground, and the ranch was swarming with Birthright kids. On my way to the bathroom, a girl who appeared to be about 16 caught up with me and asked me if I was in a Birthright group. I said that I wasn't, and that my husband and I were on a trip with our synagogue. She invited me to come check out her tent later, as they had "drum circles" and "lots of young couples." At this point, I decided I did not want to stay at the ranch. Not only did I not want to sleep on a dirty mat on the ground with hordes of teenagers, I also wanted to actually get some sleep - the next day we were getting up at 3:00am for a hike up Masada. Luckily, Adam and I were able to get a hotel room with the rest of the group (only the kids were staying on the range, and one poor dad).

*[See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caesarea_Maritima] [also, when I googled this place to see how to spell it, I found out that Keren Ann, a musician I like, was born in the modern town of Ceasarea. This came as a surprise to me, as I thought she was French.]

Today was the first bad day I've had since getting here. First thing in the morning, we went to the Tel Dan Nature Reserve for a nature "hike." It started okay because it was surprisingly cool & overcast. Slowly but surely, however, the sun came out, and it got super hot out. The lack of sleep started to catch up with me, and combined with the heat I was in a pretty surly mood. Then, I discovered someone had planted "Doobie" in my purse. "Doobie" is apparently Phillip's (self-described) "innovative" way of tourguiding mixed groups of adults and children. In short, Doobie is a small stuffed bear that gets passed around the group members like a covert hot potato. No one wants to be stuck with Doobie, because every day, when we're on the bus, Phillip will randomly announce "it's Doooobie time," and whoever finds the bear in his or her bag has to go to the front of the bus and "entertain" everyone - songs, jokes, whatever. Anyway, I was already in a bad mood, and the discovery of Doobie in my purse irritated me further. The most annoying of the three thirteen year old boys had Doobie last, so I assumed he had been the Doobie-passer. Adam and I instantly started plotting about how to pass on Doobie again before that dreaded call to "Doobie time." Soon after the Doobie discovery, one of the kids thwacked me hard in the leg with a water bottle while horsing around with the other kids, and it made me even grumpier. I was sooorta mean to him, and I feel a little bad. Just a little. Oh, and also, some of the slower members of the group who were trailing well behind got all uppity at Adam for not leaving some indication of which way the group was heading at fork in the path. Do note that it wasn't Adam's job to keep everyone rounded up, nor was he the last person in the regularly-paced-walkers group. Basically, Tel Dan was a bust. Which is a shame, because I can see how it would be quite pretty and naturey there, if you weren't in a deep hole of moodiness.

Our next stop was the Gadot Lookout. Adam and I dawdled in exiting the bus, as we had selected our Doobie target and wanted to pass him along undetected. The mother of the boy who I had sniped at for thwacking me was also dawdling, so finally we just passed Doobie off as quietly as possible and exited the bus.* During the Six Day War in 1967, the Gadot Lookout was a Syrian post, and there are still old bunkers and unexploded landmines everywhere. It was sort of an eerie place, in part due to the stark war memorial jutting out of the hilltop.





We went to the Golan Heights Winery next, and got a short tour led by the cutest little old Orthodox man. He was very elfish, with a squeaky little voice and heavy accent. The wine was really delightful; my favorite was a white wine called Gerschmikensomething. With an umlaut somewhere. After the wine tasting, we headed up to Mount Bental, which is one of the northermost points of Israel. It had been an Israeli fortification in (I believe) the Yom Kippur War in 1973. From it, you can see the Syrian border and Mt. Hermon (which Phillip pronounced "jamon," which is the Spanish word for "ham").

As if the day had not yet been long enough, our next destination was the site of a 1997 helicopter crash that killed 74(?) IDF soldiers and partially led to Israel's decision to pull out of southern Lebanon after 18(?) years of occupation. Our temporary "tour guide," Kobe, was a (retired?) IDF solider (colonel?), and he talked a lot about what a tragedy the crash had been - apparently two Israeli helicopters crashed into each other and it had something to do with going to Lebanon.**

Our final destination was to have dinner at the base of Mt. Hermon with some IDF soldiers. Which was a great idea, except our soldier didn't speak English, so Tali had to sit with us and translate. She didn't seem all that pleased about it, especially since one of the people at our table kept asking the stupidest, most patronizing questions, always directed them at the soldier and speaking loudly, slowly, and with hand gestures, as though that was a better way of communicating than using a translator.

*[Non-journal note: The woman's name is Patty, and it turns out that the reason she was dawdling behind on the bus was because she had been the one to put Doobie in my bag, and didn't want to be re-Doobied. I felt dumb for being paranoid that she was going to beat me up for being mean to her son, especially because she ended up being quite nice, and also an Italian & convert.]

** [See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1997_Israeli_helicopter_disaster]

[I'm running out of steam here...six days to go]

Today was pretty restful - it's the first time I've really apreciated Shabbat. We slept until 8 (!) and went to my first Saturday morning service. Afterwards, we took a tour of the kibbutz. The coolest thing we saw was a playground full of discarded household objects - everything from computer monitors to mattresses to car seats. I think I am a big fan of the kibbutz way of life - everything's communal and feels all organic & nature-y. Actually, I don't think kibbutzes are entirely like that anymore; even though they were founded based on Marxist ideals, now most of them are pretty commercialized. There's a museum on the kibbutz where we saw a 2,000 year old fishing-type boat. Some people think Jesus & his disciples rode in the boat (I don't know how they all fit, though, it was pretty small). Hence the name of the boat: Jesus Boat.

After the tour, we met with Phillip's wife to discuss "women's issues" in Israel, but it was much less interesting than I thought it would be. All she really talked about was how to reach out to Orthodox women suffering from domestic abuse. Which is interesting, but I was hoping for more of a range of topics over the course of the 1 hour talk. After that was lunch and napping. Around 6:00, we went to a bar/bat mitzvah of two of the kids on the trip. I was a little irritated about it, because it was on the itinerary and therefore felt mandatory. These kids are already getting a party at home, but still the whole group (mostly people who had not even met the kids until the trip) has to go and sit through a mind-numbing reading, by each child, of a Torah portion.* The way I see it, bar/bat mitzvahs are meant to be shared with friends and family. Not forced on unsuspecting strangers.

After dinner, we took a "cruise" on the Sea of Galilee/Lake Tiberias/The Kinneret (all the same body of water) and ended up in Tiberias, which was a spring-breaky type beach town. Adam and I took a taxi over to Maimonides' tomb, which we viewed from our respective sides.



Tomorrow we're heading up to the Golan Heights, which got pounded last summer. I shouldn't be nervous but I sort of am.

* [non-journal note: The mother of these children was really sort of nuts. She dressed her 11-year old daughter in the skimpiest of clothes/bathing suits. The daughter, clearly brainwashed, bossily told Adam to sit up straight at dinner, because her mother said so (or something to that effect). I also saw the daughter eating peas, without being asked to. Adam asked her what she would be doing at home for her bat mitzvah, and she replied, snottily, "we're going to have a party, and it's going to be all about me. My mom said I could have WHATEVER I want." She and her mother were both hardcore complainers whenever we were on an excursion they deemed unnecessary. I had the misfortune of sitting next to each of them exactly once, and getting an earful of just how indignant they were over (1) the heat, (2) Phillip's explanations of what we were seeing, (3) just how very boring this all was. At some point, they just stopped coming to excursions, showing up at dinner boasting about what a wonderful day they had, napping and eating "whenever they wanted."]

It was another jam-packed day! We headed to Tzfat (also spelled Safed) early in the morning, stopping first at a Palmach-related war memorial up on an old surveying hill. Phillip gave a very moving talk about the Palmach and about the war, and about Israel's existence should never be taken for granted.* On the short bus ride back down the surveying hill, Phillip pointed out a spot along the roadside where a rocket had landed last summer.

In Tzfat, we went to a kabbalistic artist's studio. The artist, Avrahim, looked pretty young - maybe 30 - and reminded me very much of my brother Andrew. They sort of look alike, and they both have the same sort of spiritual quality. Avrahim seemed a little young to be so into kabbala - traditionally, only men over 40, who were "learned" and married, were allowed to study kabbala. I guess things have changed, though (see Madonna).

We also went to two synagogues in Tzfat (Ari Ashkenazi and Yosef Caro); both were sephardic and very crowded. Afterwards we went to a candle factory and learned how they make Havdallah candles. It was a weird store.



After Tzfat, we went "rafting" on the Jordan River. Adam and I were in a little inflatable kayak, and the water was pretty calm for the most part. We still managed to get stuck once or twice. The river runs alongside the Golan Heights, and there are barbed wire fences every once in a while. At one point, I heard noise in the distance that sounded like heavy artillery, and it sorta freaked me out. We kept getting closer and closer, and I was getting a little panicky, and then we went around a corner and saw the reason for all the noise: cars going over a rickety metal grate bridge. I felt pretty silly.

Before going back to the kibbutz, Phillip took us to the Biranit forest to see yet another site that had been pummeled in last summer's war. On one side of the forest's fire path there were huge old pine trees that were completely unharmed. The other side of the fire path was almost completely burnt down from rockets. I borrowed the rabbi's binoculars and saw the Lebanese mountain where the rockets came from. Phillip said they're "still up there." I don't know if he just meant that the mountain was still in Lebanese territory, or that the Lebanese rocket guys were literally still hanging out up there, watching us through binoculars and plotting.



* [non-journal note: This is a theme Phillip repeated throughout the trip. On one level, it sounds obvious to say that you shouldn't take things for granted, just generally. At the same time, however, I think that having grown up in a country that's always been relatively quite secure, America's existence is something I've always taken for granted. The idea of living someplace that you have to constantly fight for is hard to really understand.]

Israeli breakfasts are not so great. The options are raw & semi-raw fish (with skin intact), a wilty salad bar, and canned fruit. I ate a piece of puffy white bread with hummus on it, which did not feel very breakfasty. The security girl, Natalie, sat with me & Adam, but didn't say a word to us. I don't think she speaks much English.

Our first stop of the day was the Independence Hall Museum. It's not really a "museum," exactly - there are only two rooms. The first room shows you a short film about Israel's declaration of independence in 1948 and the Independence War. The second room is the room where Ben Gurion actually declared Israeli independence on (I think) May 14, 1948. Israel had previously been under British control, as a result of World War I, but the British mandate was set to end on May 15. Which was a Saturday, and therefore Shabbat. So, with British approval, Ben Gurion decided to declare independence on Friday instead, right before sundown. They borrowed everything for the ceremony, and returned it right away, so the room's furnishings are just a recreation of what the room looked like at the time. Our "tour guide" at the museum was really awesome. She had so much enthusiasm for what she was talking about, which is sort of rare for people who have to give a tour of two rooms fifteen times a day, usually to Birthright teens no less.



Next up was the Palmach Museum. It was a good followup to the Independence Hall Museum, which left a lot of questions as to how Israel actually won the Independence War. While the Palmach Museum didn't entirely explain things, it gave a ton of information about how the Palmach (an elite underground military squad) contributed to Israel's victory. The museum is pretty intense - they use a lot of video screens (with characters that you follow through the museum, presumably based on actual Palmach members) and simulations (bridge explosions!). I'm not usually a fan of military stuff, but I really enjoyed this museum. I was really struck by how young so many of these soldiers were; currently, all Israelis (with a few exceptions) serve in the military from the age of 18 until 20 (women) or 21 (men). I don't know what the ages were in 1948, but based on the photos, they looked to be about 18-25. I guess that's how old many American soldiers are, too, but I never really thought about it.*

These two museums were a really awesome kick-off for the rest of the trip. I knew practically nothing about Israel this morning, and the museums were a huge eye-opener. It's not that I didn't care about Israel before; I was just sort of taking its existence for granted. Already, I have a feeling that there's a lot more going on here, and a lot more at stake.

After the Palmach Museum, we had a picnic lunch at the park and then took the bus to Zippori. I thought it was going to be a town, but really it's just the site of a bunch of archeological digs (at least, what we saw of it). They have some nice mosaics there, and because it's on a hill/mountain, we had a great view. Our next stop was the Arbel Cliff, which overlooks the Sea of Galilee, Migdal, Nazareth, and the Golan Heights. It was really, really windy up there. Finally, we drove to Nof Ginosar to have dinner & check in at the kibbutz. I'm already exhausted.

* [non-journal note: I just finished reading a book called "Letters from Jerusalem: 1947-1948," by Zipporah Porath, about an American girl who went to Jerusalem to study at the Hebrew University in 1947 and ended up joining the Haganah (another underground army) when the war started. I can't put my finger on exactly what it is that's so moving about this book. I tried to think about what I would've done if war had broken out in Spain while I was in Salamanca during my junior year of college. I also thought, perhaps that's not really comparable...when you look at the context of the Israel independence war, what had just happened to the Jews in World War II, and what was going on in Israel between the Muslims and the Jews, it seems like it may have been a slightly easier choice, deciding to stay and fight, especially since the author was not only a Jew but a Zionist. The author presents the situation as though it was an easy choice, but then again, the book is entirely letters she wrote to her parents back in America, and maybe she wasn't telling them everything.]

Location: Tel Aviv

The first obstacle on our journey to Israel was checking in with the Israeli airline, El-Al. Their way of weeding out would-be terrorists is to directly question each person en route to the ticket counter. The questions aren't hard or anything; they're just designed to see how you react. Unfortunately, it was about 100 degrees in the airport, and I was wearing long sleeves. Cue the sweaty fidgeting. If you're traveling with family members, they question you together, so Adam and I stammered our way through everything nervously. Our Israeli questioner was a bit skeptical about our marital status, since we don't have the same surname and (silly us) we didn't bring our marriage license. A quick examination of our drivers licenses (both bearing the same address) eventually satisfied him. Ultimately, I'm glad they do this; according to Adam, they haven't had any incidents since the 1970's. Still, it's a harrowing experience.

The flight from JFK to Tel Aviv ended up only taking 10 hours (instead of the 14 I had prepared myself for), and was tolerable. They give you your own TV on the back of the seat in front of you, and that helps pass the time. I watched "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" and "Bridge to Terabithia," as they were the best of the options. The plane was about 75% full of Birthright kids (18-25 year olds who act about 16). A sampling of some overheard conversation: (upon receiving breakfast) "This isn't cream cheese! Ew! I swear, this is genetically engineered" (repeat four more times). The rest of the passengers were large families of rambunctious toddlers and screeching infants.

Our tour guides, Phillip & Tally (sp?), picked us up at the airport and took us to our hotel, which overlooked the Mediterranean. After Adam and I showered off the plane yuck, we went for a walk on the boardwalk. It was excruciatingly hot, but we managed to see a weird art deco-y building and a nice park.



That evening, we met the other members of the tour group. There were about thirty of us total - mostly people in their mid-30's to mid-50's, plus a couple of older people and six 13 year olds. So, Adam and I were the sole representatives of our age group. Phillip, the primary tour guide, is probably in his 40's, and Tally is 27, but she's the "youth coordinator" and dealt almost exclusively with the kids. We all went to a Yemenite restaurant for dinner.* About halfway through the meal, I looked at the girl sitting next to me (Natalie - our security guard who will go with us everywhere) and suddenly noticed that the strap across her chest was attached not to a purse, as I had previously thought, but to a large rifle .** It startled the crap out of me.

Stay tuned for Day 2!

* [non-journal note: Here we got our first taste of the blandness that is Israeli food. No matter what ethnicity the food originates from, Israelis make it all bland.]

** [non-journal note: I quickly got used to seeing armed people everywhere. Every Israeli has to join the army when they're 18, and serve 2-3 years. All active members have to be armed when they go out, plus most tour groups have an armed security person.]