Leket Picking in Nahalal

Yesterday, which happened to have been Isru Chag for us living in the Holy Land (and still Sukkot for those living in the Diaspora), a special trip to collect “leket” for people in need was arranged. Leket is, to be short and sweet, grain or produce that the farmer drops, accidentally, in the field which is then abandoned for the poor people to gather. There are certain Rabbinical laws that define what leket exactly is, for example if the farmer was pricked by a thorn while harvesting wheat and consequently drops the sheaves or produce from his hand, he can gather them back up and does not have to leave them for the poor. So, in today’s times there is a noble organisation that takes the initiative to collect this leket and dole it out to those in need. This organisation is aptly named Leket Israel:

Leket Israel logo

Our morning leket gathering trip was coordinated by Nefesh B’Nefesh and the clincher that secured my agreement to partake was due to the fact that this trip was to take place in Nahalal. Located between Nazareth and Mount Carmel, in the lush Jezreel Valley, Nahalal was founded in 1921 and was Israel’s first moshav. Having recently read Yael Dayan’s biography about her father, Moshe Dayan, and having read all about Nahalal in the early days when Yael Dayan was a child, I figured it would be interesting to see this famous moshav in person, and to actually work the land, no less.

Nahalal in 1921 – the first settlers arriving

One of the things that makes Nahalal so famous is the circular shape in which it was built up; the families’ houses occupying the centre of the circle with their tracts of land stretching out behind, so that each family had a livelihood. Here is an aerial view of Nahalal these days, taken from Google Maps, and the field where we picked yesterday is in the lower left corner.

Nahalal

As we all gathered at the field, some coming by car and some by special transport scheduled for this event, a Leket Israel truck followed us and parked, ready to pass along all that we would pick:

Leket Israel truck following us

Now, just to put things into perspective, all of us that gathered there came as volunteers (even paying for transportation) and yet we had not a clue as to what we were going to be picking. We passed tomatoes and beets before stopping at what seemed to be an empty field, furrowed and littered with tawny dead vegetation. There, Ran, the Leket Israel representative hailing from Kibbutz Mizra, explained to us that we were to pick onions and that the crop of choice varies as to the supply and demand.

Ran of Leket Israel

He proceeded to kneel in the dirt and pull onions out of their semi-buried state and demonstrate which onions were to be discarded and which were to be placed into the bucket. Once we were briefed he turned us loose, handing buckets all around. Here is a fine specimen of an onion that I picked, note my fellow pickers in the background:

An onion in the field

As we toiled in the field, chatting and making new acquaintances, the clock hands spun around and the buckets were repeatedly emptied into the large plastic crate. Here is the first crate that we filled, estimated by some to be at least 50 bucketfuls of onions:

First crate

But after the first crate we were merely warmed up, our clever little party of thirty or so individuals began to ferociously attack the dry, cracked land, producing onion after onion and dispensing them into the correct containers. The sun and clouds played hide-and-seek while us mortals toiled in the fields, having a grand old time.

The group gathering

At last the NBN crew called a mandatory break and passed out fruit and cups of water. We stood around and were taken by surprise as a group of armed soldiers traipsed by us and began gathering onions as well. We watched as they stacked their guns and got down on the ground to fill buckets for Leket Israel. With all the goodness that I see streaming from the IDF’s many fingers, I feel glad that I am, at last, going to join their ranks.

Soldiers picking onions

I approached the soldiers and learned of their location in the army. They belong to a unique unit somewhat attached to the Artillery Corps but mostly operate with Infantry. They are responsible for sending unmanned gliders out into the battlefield for real-time surveillance and even carry the gliders dismantled on their backs. I do not know what this unit is called but it sounds rather interesting, plus they knew how to pick onions, always a good skill:

A soldier picking for Leket Israel

After several hours of picking onions, I personally had filled countless buckets and there were a bunch of full crates. Someone from NBN called back our special transport and we all gathered around to hear a summary of the morning’s efforts. Ran announced to us that we had picked an estimated 900 kilograms of onions (that’s 1,980 lbs, close to a ton). He then told us that 300 families, estimated, would be enjoying the fruits of our labour and that we did a great job. We then returned to our vehicles, feeling good that we helped so many, and I got myself a taste of farming in the Holy Land. I hope that when I’m in the army I get to go leket picking again. Time will tell, I suppose.

More information about Leket Israel can be found HERE.

Hummus & Diamonds

Here goes another tale of Tel Aviv, the home of hummus and diamonds, and the surrounding experiences as told with words and pictures. I was in Jerusalem already, on business, and grabbed a bagel from the Central Bus Station for breakfast as I headed towards Tel Aviv. I confirmed by phone the location of the IDC (Israel Diamond Centre) Diamond Museum, which I’ve been wanting to visit for a while now, and once in Tel Aviv grabbed another bus to Ramat Gan – just a few minutes away from the Savidor Mercaz train station. There, looming over me and scraping the sky, the tall buildings of the famed Diamond District greeted me, occasionally shading me from the late morning sun as I sought out the museum. As an interesting side point, the roundish building below, on the right side of the photo, is the tallest building in Israel.

Skyscrapers in the Diamond District

Beneath the immense buildings I found an array of jewelry shops and restaurants and asked some security guards for directions to the diamond museum, whatever the name was. It was easy to find and I stepped into the Harry Oppenheimer Diamond Museum operated/owner by either the IDC or the IDI, I keep seeing conflicting reports, unless they are both the same group. Regardless, I paid my entrance fee – which was reduced because I told them I am going to the army in less than two months – and had a personal guide instruct me on the correct uses of the little informational video stands.

Fake diamond on display

At first I examined the new special exhibition of silver Judaica, not really connected to diamonds but there are different special exhibitions and this was the current one. Moving along the rooms I started the diamond manufacturing self-activated tour and watched the first of three videos explaining the path a diamond takes from the creation to the gem we recognise. Along with the videos there were various tools, both historical and modern, which are used to work the rough diamond. At the end of the stages there is the finished product and so, as expected, there were showcases of loose diamonds and jewelry encrusted with diamonds:

Real tiny diamonds on display

One of the coolest diamond piece on display was the De Beers Hourglass, a 24-karat gold hourglass with over 2,000 tiny diamonds acting as sand flowing through the hourglass encased in some unidentifiable liquid. It was really cool, however not an accurate hourglass, but the photos I took didn’t come out too well (dark room and dark display behind glass). From there I went to the main video, activated it myself and sat by my lonesome in the viewing room, looking up at the three screens. The video took me through the final stage of the diamond transformation, the selling or brokering of the gem. In the course of the video I learned some rather interesting little tidbits about the diamond industry. One, half of the diamonds sold in the US pass through Tel Aviv at some point or another. Two, at nearly every diamond deal – regardless of the location – a handshake and the words “Mazal U’Bracha” compose the traditional mutual agreement. So, in the video (all performed by actors, I checked with the museum), when “the Chinese” are buying diamonds from the Israelis they all say “Mazal U’Bracha” as they seal the deal. Here is a snapshot just seconds before that glorious moment:

Closing the deal with the Chinese

When I finished the video, having learnt some trivia about the local diamond industry – including the fact that Tel Aviv is one of the biggest diamond centres in the world, following only Antwerp and New York (I believe) – I examined the rest of the museum, the collections of other gems and semi-precious stones all left in their rough state, and headed outside. From there I walked into the IDC showroom and examined the finished products up for sale. As an interesting note, none of the Tel Aviv diamonds are blood diamonds. I did “sneak into” a special showroom section and consequently was forced to leave that special room and continue my browsing on the general floor. When I had seen enough of the millions of dollars of diamonds I left and searched for some more diamond locations. After nagging some guards I was reassured that there was no more to be seen save the scatterings of diamond retail and jewelry stores – but those I’ve already seen. As I was leaving I saw several chasidim heading into one of the buildings – no doubt diamond cutters as the chasidim have that in their blood, and become fabulously wealthy from the diamond industry. So with that final flourish, seeing the workers and the trade, I hopped back on a bus and and headed for one of Israel’s best and/or most famous hummus joints, an ideal lunch for a traveler in Tel Aviv.

The hummus joint in my sights was Hummus Ashkara, recommended to me by several people and also featured on many of the “Best Hummus in Israel” lists that can be found online. Most, if not all, of the other famous/best hummus joints are owned by Arabs and do not have kosher certification, thus I cannot eat there. This one, to my joy, was 100% kosher and open for business. I headed for the Tel Aviv Port area and found the hummus I was looking for. Behind the counter, dishing the hummus, was a nice [Jewish] religious young man.

Hummus Ashkara

This particular hummus joint, unlike the famous Arab ones in Akko, Abu Gosh  and Jaffa, is open 24 hours a day. I heard somewhere that traditional Arab hummus joints are only open in the morning and close at about noon, this one apparently doesn’t follow the traditional Arab way. I sat down and the perky Middle Eastern waiter asked me what I’d like to eat. I told him I wanted the dish that makes this place famous so he asked me if I was hungry. I said sure and he pointed to the “Ashkara dish” on the menu with many words of recommendation spewing from his lips. I agreed and he came back in record time with a bowl of hummus and two fresh pitas in a wooden bowl. Here it is, the famous hummus from the famous hummus joint:

My bowl of hummus

Now it may look unfamiliar to some so let me break it down. The beige paste around the edges is the hummus, the brown soup-like ingredient is beans and those spheroids are chickpeas. Also on top is a dash of spice, olive oil and perhaps lemon juice. Partially hidden is a whole hardboiled egg split into quarters. As I apprehensively scooped some hummus+ up with my torn pita piece, I began my journey – my first time doing the pita and hummus meal at a restaurant. It was exciting at first but then I noticed that there was only about 40% hummus in the bowl, the rest of it bean puree and eggs. I think that next time I’ll go with the hummus and tehina plain, they can keep the bean puree and eggs and give them to another customer. When I was done, having needed to “order” a third pita, I had mixed feelings. I think it could have been better but by all means, if you (dear reader) have never had hummus in a famous hummus joint then do so.

After my hummus and pita lunch I decided to walk down Dizengoff Street and see some of Tel Aviv at a slow pace. I entered into some interesting shops, one selling really expensive pens (one costed ₪22,500 which is about $5,600) and other one that sold interesting tobaccos and cigars, from which I bought neither. Along with the interesting stores there are also scores of wedding dress shops and Dizengoff has become the place to go for brides looking for a dress.

Dizengoff

After walking at least halfway down the entire Dizengoff I came upon the famous Dizengoff Square and the landmark fountain up above, “Fire and Water” by Yaacov Agam built in 1986, having taken the artist ten years to build it. At night the fountain looks cooler and is supposed to shoot fire and water upwards but it has fallen into disrepair some and I do not know if the fire still erupts.

”Fire and Water” at Dizengoff Square

Beyond Dizengoff Square, going even further south, I came upon Dizengoff Centre. Basically it is just an extensive mall complex so I kept going, heading for Rothschild Boulevard. There, on one of the streets, I stopped and got myself a cool, refreshing drink at a fruit juice joint. I got a freshly squeezed lemon and mint drink blendered with ice to create a delicious beverage perfect for sipping on in the muggy Tel Aviv heat.

Lemon and mint drink

With cold, dripping beverage in hand I walked the length of Rothschild and then turned onto the charming Allenby Street where I nabbed a bus to the train station. On the way we passed by Rabin Square, where Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated the day after my 5th Gregorian birthday. From the bus to the train, then a layover in Akko and then another bus and I was home. I am eager to go back and continue my explorations of Israel’s second biggest city, Tel Aviv.

Klezmer Festival

As the title might suggest, the famed Klezmer Festival has begun. Every year, for 25 years now, Tzfat (or as it is often written: Safed) hosts the Klezmer Festival, an international music event usually three days long. Thousands of people come every year, from around Israel mostly, but even some of the performing artists hail from the international sector. I was fortunate to have attended some of the 23rd annual festival (back in 2010) and now I had the opportunity of seeing some of the 25th, the current festival. I was already in Tzfat when the festival began, showing some folks around the tourist attractions, so when the sun dropped behind the mountains, with still two hours till the festivities, I was camera-ready (click to enlarge):

The sun sets over the mountains

We descended from the Citadel area and had a bite to eat, the crowds starting to intensify as the festival entered into the pre-show period. With some free time at hand we slowly meandered down the brick and stone streets taking in the sights under the cover of the ink-black sky and the orange-tinted street lamps.

Entering into the festivities

One light decoration, high up on a stone wall side of a building, caught my eye – just one of the many music-themed ornamentations and trimmings that are scattered throughout Tzfat. Here it is, the best my camera can muster for a night-time shot:

Light decorations

Before long, after passing the Kikar Sadeh stage – one of seven outside, we walked through the Artists’ Quarter and sat down at the Gan HaKasum stage before the musicians began. We got decent seats, to the side, and waited for the Ransas Ensemble to set up. Once they began, the lively tunes filling the wedge-shaped amphitheatre, I stood up in the back and took a semi-panoramic photograph – just look at the beautiful setting!

Ransas Ensemble performing at the Gan HaKasum

We stayed and listened to them for a while, some three or four songs (as well as watching the loud fireworks which were done from the Citadel area). I marvelled at the fast pace of the violin and the rapid toots of the flute so much so that I descended some levels to sit beside the fence, to photograph the flutist. Here it is, raw talent entertaining the masses:

Member of the Ransas Ensemble

After the third or fourth song we returned to where we started, to the next stage in our path – the Kikar Sadeh stage – where Amhia, I believe, was playing. They were a bigger group than the Ransas Ensemble and therefore had a bigger stage, and a bigger audience. Due to my simpleton camera, and the fog machine, some of my pictures come out less than perfect – this is an example of one, but, at least, it gives an adequate indication of what the stage looked like at the time:

Amhia performing at the Kikar Sadeh stage

We stayed and watched them for a bit, pressed against the cool stone wall of an art gallery as the crowd surged by. The music was festive, as it should be, and the “leader” of the group made me laugh at his amusing appearance and dress, but there was oh-so-much more to be seen and we didn’t want to stay out forever (having spent the entire day touring Tzfat). So we continued on, passing the countless vendors of traditional festival foods. One particular treat is the crêpe, made on a hot, flat, circular cooktop and then slathered with chocolate spread or Nutella. The crêpe is then folded into a triangle and popped into a wedge-shaped pocket and is eaten “on the go”. I enjoyed some of my sister’s crêpe at the 23rd festival but did not opt for another go at the overly-sweet Israeli treat. The next stage we approached was the Ma’ayan HaRadom (after passing the Kahn of the White Donkey which was not yet fully set up). There, in a quieter part of the Festival – the quietest we saw all evening – was a small musical group playing more Klezmer music. We stood on an elevated sidewalk and watched from above.

More Klezmer music on magnificent stages

And then we headed for the lights in the sky, the grand stage of the Saraya (Outside). The Saraya is a large stone building that was once the palace of the Bedouin governor of Tzfat and then the administrations building for the Ottomans when they took control of the area. There is a clock tower that juts up on the north-western corner of the structure. The bright lights that poked the sky were seen from other areas of the Old City, where the other stages were scattered about, and when we finally saw the lights, it was very impressive. Again, woe is to my camera for it cannot photograph very well at night.

Outside the Saraya

Here is another shot of the Saraya Outside stage – the colour scheme changed but the same artists were on-stage:

Another shot of outside the Saraya

After seeing just one more stage – the Saraya Inside, these two wildly packed with hordes of Klezmer-loving Jews, we continued on towards the parked car that was to take us out of the city, the hands of the clock pointing upwards – apparently aghast at the late bedtimes of the local children who ran about eating cotton candy and chocolate-filled crêpes. As we walked away from the Saraya we chanced upon the studio trailer of the IDF Radio and they were just finishing an interview. The broadcast was not only heard throughout the country but was also conveniently sounded on speakers just outside the portable studio. Here it is, the army’s own radio station and the soldiers covering the 25th International Klezmer Festival of Tzfat:

Army radio covering the festival

For more info on the Festival: Hebrew and English are both available, just click on your preferred language.

Jerusalem Woodstock Revival

Thursday, the day that was yesterday (and the last day of my trip), revolved around one special event: the Jerusalem Woodstock Revival. The fourth one as of yet, these revivals have attracted local musicians who have great interest in the music of those days. On the evening’s program seven acts were listed, covers ranging from Neil Young to Jimi Hendrix to The Grateful Dead. As soon as I successfully managed to find the Kraft Stadium, the venue, I found that I wasn’t late as I suspected but that the performances were just beginning.

Jerusalem Woodstock Revival IV poster

Up first was Maya Johanna Menachem with Shai Tochner and friends. Performing a range of songs from the likes of Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and others, Maya sang and Shai strummed (occassionaly also treating us to simultaneous guitar and harmonica music). Sadly, many of the songs that she sang were unknown to me so I couldn’t tap my feet along. I guess it is my fault for having neglected these musical masterpieces, the hits of the 60s and 70s. Regardless of the lyrical content, Maya has a great voice and it was a really good, low-key opening act – as a teaser to open the eardrums for the heavier rock yet to come.

Maya Johanna Menachem

It was during the first act that the place began to fill. I was surprised at the diversity of the attending crowd; from the old people who may have actually been at the original Woodstock, to the young adults who grew up listening to this music and the children who mostly came for the activies, picnics and social camaraderie. It was a great blend, something that really made it interesting.

The crowd starts to build during the first act

As the crowd grew, and I was closed in on all sides, the sun’s daily setting procedure began to quicken in our eyes and the shadows grew long over the stage. Michael Greilsammer came onto the stage with his band members and began to belt out some Led Zeppelin. Starting with the raucous song “Black Dog” I began to actually “come alive” with the music. Listening to the original version now as I write, I must say that Michael was great, his voice seemed really well-trained in the exact vocal nuances that made his cover seem so authentic.

Michael Greilsammer

When Greilsammer was done, the crowd roared in cheer and someone announced that this was the first Led Zeppelin concert they have ever been to – possibly the greatest compliment one can give to a cover band. Following Michael’s enthralling performance was the biggest star of the evening, Geva Alon. Having played at the first Jerusalem Woodstock Revival, Geva was more than welcome to come treat the crowd with his covers of select Neil Young hits. I know very little of Neil Young’s work but I could appreciate the solo effort Geva made as he entertained the crowd on his lonesome. I really enjoyed his guitar riffs, done on a plugged-in acoustic.

Geva Alon

During Geva’s performance I had the brilliant idea of getting my program sheet autographed by the performing artists. I confronted Maya first and she was more than happy to sign her name. Michael has already gone so there was only Geva left and he was still onstage…

Maya Johanna Menachem signing my program sheet

When Geva was done he was also pleased to add his name (it is more like a scrawl than a legible name) to my proffered paper. After Geva’s signature I actually abandoned my quest in getting more signatures but at least I got two! Maybe one day it’ll be worth something…

Getting back to the festivities, the fourth act was The Elevators playing Grateful Dead music. Now, I know Grateful Dead but I didn’t know the music that I heard – and I am not really sure why not. With an indifference to my poor association skills regarding oldies, the crowd seemed to really liven up and the inner Deadhead seemed to come out of scores of hopping/dancing people. Photographs of crowds never come out good for me, but here you can see some excitement is involved:

The crowd getting lively with the songs of the Grateful Dead

The Elevators gave a long performance and the crowd didn’t seem to tire a bit. With a half circle formed around the stage several people thick, the barefooted revellers swayed and hopped and swung themselves around languidly. I guess the large quantity of cold beer that seemed to flow like water must have helped fuel the dancing stamina…

Aryeh Naftaly from The Elevators

When The Elevators reluctantly stepped down, the next band was announced: Crystal Ship. Named after one of The Doors’ songs, Crystal Ship was set out to cover none other than The Doors. Since my knowledge of The Doors is about as it as it is with Neil Young, I wasn’t tapping my feet along with the rhythm. But, other people did find themselves aligned with the music – throughout the concert I saw countless attendees just bobbing their heads lightly to the music, their eyes squeezed shut and their lips mouthing the lyrics along. I’m not that guy at the concert – I’m a listener. But, sadly, I couldn’t stay and listen forever – I had to get back to Tel Aviv and I wasn’t ready to wing it with the night-time bus routes.

Crystal Ship

I stayed for two songs from Crystal Ship and then reluctantly made my way out of the stadium. One thing that I didn’t mention before, simply because I don’t remember at what point in the concert it happened, was that I bumped into an Israeli guy who I met some two or three months ago on a bus headed for Meron. I was on a trip in either Tzfat or the Kinneret area (there is a blog post about it in the archives) and he was with his friends getting ready to hike Mount Meron. When I asked him if he’s been hiking there lately, it dawned on him and we both had a good time recalling that interesting bus ride. Such a small world!

Unfortunately for me, I was unable to hear all seven acts of this year’s Jerusalem Woodstock Revival. I missed half of the Crystal Ship act and then two full ones: Libi and the Flashback (playing Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin) and Ummagumma (playing Pink Floyd). I would have liked to see those… Perhaps at Woodstock Revival V or VI, or maybe VII, when I am out of the army. Until then, I’ll be forced to listen to recorded 60s/70s music.

Thus concludes my four-day trip “down south”, I hope you enjoyed the daily accounts.

Be’er Sheva

Today, the second day of my much anticipated trip, I headed way down south to the Negev city of Be’er Sheva. Having never been further south than Bet Shemesh, this was a true change is climate and landscape. When I got off the train and met my friend Ofir, who was my local guide for the day, I couldn’t help but notice the extreme dry heat that gusted from every direction like an oven. Outside, we passed by Bedouins, native of the Negev, who dressed very differently than the Muslim, Christian and Druze Arabs that I see all the time in the north. Sadly, I didn’t get any photographs of them. But I did get a picture of this street that, to me, was marvellously reminiscent of Miami – but in the old Turkish town area known as the Old City:

Street in the Old City of Be’er Sheva

As we walked through the Old City, the crumbling Ottoman-era stone walls visible on nearly every corner, Ofir pointed out all the places of interest, including this – water in the desert:

Running water in the desert city – the marvels of ancient engineering

After a little while spent roaming the streets in the blazing sun, with temperatures clearly surpassing 100° Fahrenheit, we ducked into a little café by the name of Lola where I ordered an iced coffee. It was fun because I never, ever, go to coffee-houses. Shortly after our coffee break we headed back outside and found ourselves in front of Beit Ha-Ful, a restaurant. Both of us hungry, we went on in and Ofir promised to get me this special food – I wasn’t quite sure what he intended at the time. The man behind the counter did some deft scooping and arranging-within-the-pita movements and then surfaced, asking me if I wanted lemon and charif (spicy – a generic term for something paste-like, spicy and made from peppers). He spooned in a little salt, much to my curiousity, and then added the lemon and charif. Next, to further propel my confusion and curiousity, he mashed up everything inside my pita. Then he asked if I wanted salads in my sandwich as well – I chose some chopped cucumber (somewhere along the line hummus was added in too). I took my completed sandwich from the man, waited for Ofir to get his and then took our mysterious culinary loot to our table. I examined my pita, noting the contents, and took a bite. What I was eating was beans and hard-boiled egg that had been mashed into one lovely, smooth, lemon-y and spicy entity. Here is what it looked like before I started eating:

Ful in a pita at Beit Ha-Ful

If you think this sounds kinda gross… trust me, it is remarkably tasty. Here my sandwich is again, in an advanced stage of its short life:

Partly devoured ful in a pita

After we finished our pitas and the complimentary falafel balls given to us, we took ourselves back into the afternoon sun and kept looking at cool things. The two museums in the area were both closed, in fact most things in Be’er Sheva worth visiting are being worked on now. But, the old WWI-era British cemetery was open. The final resting place for probably hundreds of soldiers who died for the British Empire is just smack in middle of a residential area in Be’er Sheva. I had fun imagining the British great-grandchildren of some of these fallen soldiers telling someone that his/her great-grandfather died during the Great War and was buried not in France or England… but in southern Israel. Makes for a great story, I suppose.

WWI-era British cemetery

After seeing the cemetery we went up to Ofir’s apartment for some cold water and relaxation in the coolness of man-made shade. Ofir checked the times for our next stop, the Israeli Air Force Museum “just outside” of Be’er Sheva and we headed out for the bus at the appropriate time. Getting off the bus in what would seem to be wilderness if not for the large presence of military buildings and the planes flying circles over our heads, we made our way to the museum.

Welcome to the Israeli Air Force Museum

Having paid admission, we were let in by the IAF soldiers and we started our exploration of the museum. Obviously revolving around aircraft, most of the museum is actually outdoors – parked planes “on the tarmac” or in open hangars. The “Old to New” jet fighter exhibit has 150 different warplanes order chronologically – from the WWII-era Spitfire which Israel used in the 1948 war to the modern-day F-15 which is still in use today.

An Israeli F-4 Phantom

Part of the experience outdoors, other than the relentless desert sun, was made 0h-so real by (1)the IAF training planes circling overhead, and (2)the IDF/IAF gunfire in one of the bases just across the main road. The sounds, together with the visuals, really helped create an experience – that and the fact that my friend is an avid plane enthusiast. Getting back to the aircraft, some of the stories behind the planes were known to me from books. This Syrian MiG-17 has a story which almost sounds too “unfortunate” to be true:

A Syrian MiG-17 which accidentaly landed in Israel

Accidentally landing in Israel and then having to surrender the plane must have been very nerve-wracking for the Syrian pilot. But then again, simply flying one of the older planes in the IAF’s history is probably nerve-wracking as well, presenting the biplanes of old:

Old propeller planes in a hangar

Some of the planes, a very small percentage, are open for sitting in but the ones that looked interesting had long passed by when I noticed the discreet ladders offering their services at the sides of the planes. Blame it on the heat and the sun. I did, however, sit inside the helicopter that hosted Begin and Sadat, leaders of Israel and Egypt respectively, as they flew to a military command centre in Be’er Sheva to sign the peace treaty in 1979. That was interesting.

Old Israeli fighters that have been decommissioned

On of the other interesting findings was the hang glider that was used by a Syrian-based terrorist to fly into Israel, in the Golan, and raid an sleeping army base in the dead of night. I had read the story in the book I bought from the Navy Museum in Haifa back in February (as can be seen here, in this old post: Haifa Again). Now knowing the story, it was both fascinating and chilling to see the exact hang-glider sitting in a hangar seemingly detached from the blood-drenched history that it helped make. If only aircraft had the power of speech…

The bulk of the aircraft on display

Towards the end, we climbed into a dormant Boeing jet and watched a short film about the history of the IAF – with the comforting air conditioning cooling down the plane’s interior. It also should be noted that this museum offers extremely cold water on the far end of the main display lot so, should you go visit, you’ll know ahead of time to be liberal with your water. So, after about two hours of so, we had seen all the aircraft there was to see and had read about more incidents then we could remember and so we headed out, back out to the main road. The training planes had ceased for some time, and apart from the sporadic staccato of gunfire, it was hot and silent in the great desert expanse. Back in Be’er Sheva, I said my good-byes and thank yous to my friend, Ofir, and continued on to the train station where I boarded a train for Tel Aviv. As a parting shot, the perfect indication of a day growing old, here is sunset from the train, hastily photographed as the well-tended crops below whip by the windows:

Sunset from the train

Now that was a nice day trip. It’s good to have finally entered into the vastness of the Negev, if only just to see a city. Hopefully one day I will visit all that there is to be seen way down there (including the famous Ramon Crater and Eilat) but for now I have Tel Aviv to focus on. Until tomorrow!

O’ Jerusalem

Yesterday marked the first day of my little trip down south, a four day excursion to see new things and do new things – at least while I am still a civilian. The day’s destination: Jerusalem! However, getting to Jerusalem is a journey in and of itself – the early waking, the peach cobbler breakfast, the train ride to Tel Aviv, the getting situated, the train (or bus, I usually take the bus) to Jerusalem, etc. I reached Tel Aviv in good time, as indicated by this dingy clock in the train station:

Dingy railroad clock

As soon as I boarded the Jerusalem-bound train in Tel Aviv, I leaned back and peered out the window, ready to see what I’ve been missing each time I chose the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem bus line instead. It was the tumultuous rise and fall of the mountains just outside of Bet Shemesh, and the Soreq River that runs beneath the train, crossing under a sturdy bridge. It was truly scenic. The only downside to the train ride was that I ended up in somewhere known as “Malcha Mall” (the official name to the mall is Jerusalem Mall) – in southwestern Jerusalem. The biggest mall in the Holy City, Malcha has tons of places to shop in and eat at but it is not near any of the places I initially wanted to visit. So I bought my falafel lunch, ate it and hit the road, heading for the Central Bus Station. The first thing I did was buy a ticket to the Jerusalem Light Rail, the electric train that runs through some areas of the Holy City. This was my first time riding it… and I rode it to the Jaffa Gate of the Old City.

The Jerusalem Light Rail passing by the Old City walls outside of Jaffa Gate

There, approaching the Old City I couldn’t help but lose myself in a photographic frenzy – I snapped and snapped, this is the best that came out (I’m not sure why the sky looks so grey):

The majestic walls and towers of the Old City

Once inside the Old City I headed for the Israel Ministry of Tourism information office and was directed to the correct location to purchase a ticket to walk the ramparts. Something I’ve always wanted to do, the Ramparts Walk turned out to be very rewarding but at the same time, very tiring. I climbed the stairs with excitement and began my walk – a totally different perspective on the Old City unfolding before my eyes.

Walking the narrow ramparts

As the city walls continued, the walk became harder and harder – the uneven surfaces and the intense stairways not helping much. The soldiers who historically roamed the walltops, throughtout the generations, must have been made of sterner stuff. Regardless, the views from the wall really does change how the Old City looks (click on: map). Here, just above the Damascus Gate, I sit and observe:

Sitting in a defence niche just above the Damascus Gate and the Arab peddlers below

All this was just the northern side – the Ramparts Walk is actually comprised of a longer northern walk and a shorter southern walk. At the end of the northern walk, where the Lion’s Gate on the eastern wall is, we (I had picked up some fellow wall-walkers along the way and impressed them with my “knowledge” in the tourism field) reached an observation point – the end of the line. To our surprise and enjoyment, the muezzins started up and pretty soon there were fasting Muslim men and women making their way to the mosque, urged on by the song of the muezzin. Here is a short video clip of the experience:

After watching for a few minutes we turned back and descended all the way back at the Herod’s Gate (be sure to consult map). With my water bottle long dried up in the hot Jerusalem sun, I advanced on a peddler/shopkeeper who sold large bottles of water. The Arab merchant informed me that since I do not speak Arabic… he cannot sell me anything. Fun!

One of the many Arab souks in and around the Old City

After finding an alternate water source and parting ways with my new companions, I headed for the second half of the Ramparts Walk, the southern side. Here, just at the beginning, the Tower of David:

The Tower of David

And here, just a little bit along the way, a pictorial show-piece, looking more like old time Bavaria than the Old City:

A peculiar section of the Old City

After descending at the Dung Gate, basically having done 80% of the total wall walk (all that was offered) and taking somewhere beyond the three-hour mark, I headed inside the City for an obligatory visit at the Kotel. Here, in all its splendour and glory, the Kotel:

The Kotel

After the Kotel is when things started getting hairy. With the sun setting rapidly, a few friends of mine wanted to meet up closer to the “centre of town” so I was determined to hop on one of the buses and meet them there. In spite of my iron resolution, no buses seemed to come – and even the taxis became elusive as the mainly-Muslim drivers wanted to head home to eat their Ramadan dinner. Finally, after some thirty minutes of waiting and meandering from bus stop to bus stop, a bus – no, THE bus – came. I was oh-so fortunate to be included on the bus, albeit the guy who has to watch out that when the doors open he doesn’t fall out. I felt like I was on those crowded Indian trains where the passengers hang from wherever they can.

A sea of black hats separated me from the bus driver

As I made my way out of Jerusalem, after some quality time with my old friends, I snapped this shot of the Jerusalem Bridge of Strings where both people and the light rail make use of the arc over the traffic. (Sadly, night-time photography is usually ill-received by my camera):

The Jerusalem Bridge of Strings

Back in Tel Aviv, nearing midnight, I happened to have missed the last bus offered to the area I needed and was then forced to share a taxi with some other Tel Avivians to get back to my hosts. Always an adventure!

Kibbutz Degania

Continuing with the adventures of May 3rd, following a few hours spent at the Hamat Gader resort, this post focuses on Israel’s first kibbutz, Degania. Founded in 1910, the kibbutz celebrated its 100 year anniversary just two years ago. That was the year I first visited Degania, on a Yeshiva trip. So I returned to cover it for Tourist Israel and to catch up on my lacking historical knowledge in regards to the early days of Israel’s rebirth. Here is the first house of Kibbutz Degania where everyone lived together in the early 1910s:

The original first house

My adventures first started at the Gordon House museum where I was greeted with locked doors and nobody around (kind of like a “Twilight Zone” episode). I read online that the museum was open until 3 PM but that website was last updated in 2001 so the information was outdated. I was crushed and decided to find someone who could open the museum for me, at least for a few minutes. At last I found living people and I asked them for help. They gave me a phone number to call and after a confusing conversation the woman agreed to come open the museum for me. I explained that I was a journalist and she gave me a tour, and didn’t even charge me admittance.

One of the Gordon House museum buildings

The most interesting of the three separate exhibitions of the Gordon House was the Natural History exhibit. The others were the History of Kibbutz Degania and the Ancient History of the Lower Kinneret Area. In the Natural History exhibit there are tons of stuffed and preserved animals ranging from birds to snakes and to a leopard skin that once belonged to a leopard which was killed nearby after eating one of local’s sheep. Here is a diorama of the wildlife found in the Lower Kinneret area:

Kinneret diorama

We continued on through the exhibitions, going from building to building. There were all sorts of interesting pictures from the early days when they worked the fields and had guards riding around on donkeys or horses to protect the workers and the crops. At first, in the earliest stage, the kibbutz was just a large house where everyone lived in together (some 10 people or so), a series of small building holding sheep, cows, chickens, supplies and a blacksmith workshop all build in a square and enclosed by a wall and then there was the dining room and kitchen in a separate building. The kitchen area is now converted into another small museum which just covers the history of Degania. Here is an old photo of the early settlers building the stables and cowshed:

Building the stables and cowshed back in the early 1910s

Today, the main house is now an office of sorts (all I saw was lots of paperwork) and the other building which once hosted livestock now contain various other offices and even a nice light restaurant. I had a few minutes until I had to find my bus out on the main road so I went in and bought a Coke, in a glass bottle. I sat outside and sipped, batting flies away as I listened to two couples (one local, one tourists from Spain) and their cheery banter. It was a lovely place to sit and relax and I was reluctant to leave. But the bus waits for no man so I gathered up my belongings and bid farewell. On my way out of the kibbutz I took this picture, the old farm equipment which once conquered the land now rests on display, the would-be rusty parts now decorated with paint:

Old farm machinery

I then exited the kibbutz and sat down at the bus stop across the road. It was a hot afternoon and the flies seemed to swarm relentlessly. The cars and trucks whizzed by and a young corporal sat down across from me, her large suitcase gleaming in the sun. I asked her if she too was headed for Teverya (Tiberias) and she was. Her reply was in English and before long I was privy to the facts that she was Canadian, a lone soldier and living here in Kibbutz Degania, not far from the original “plaza.”  Eventually our bus came and we parted ways, I headed for Tzfat and she for her army base down in the Negev. It was a long and quite enjoyable day but I was pleased to finally arrive home.

Shavei Tzion

Today’s adventures landed us in the small, old moshav of Shavei Tzion, just minutes from Nahariya. We were headed for Regba, a shopping centre where we usually find clothes, and decided to visit the Mediterranean Sea briefly. We drove through Shavei Tzion and got out of the car to walk along the beach, pretty sure this was all we were going to do there. But we were wrong, we ended up finding all sorts of interesting things! But first, the beach:

Interesting beach

Tiny shellfish

To find the reported mosaic excavation which we had read about some months back, we had to leave the beach and ask around. After questioning a bunch of people, and getting wildly conflicting answers, we finally were pointed in the right direction. It was to be found along the beach, 100 metres or so from the waterline and just a little further north than where we parked originally. Returning to the beach, we walked along a very nice path, the sandy area blossoming with wildflowers:

Wildflowers at the beach

At last we found the mosaic, a reconstruction of what once was a Byzantine church built some 1,500 years ago. The mosaics were uncovered and reconstructed in 1955 and to this day remain open and unguarded.

Restored mosaic part

Close-up of the restored mosaic

And there were other levels of the old church, apparently built in two stages, which were in a greater state of disrepair. Here is a photo, the weeds fighting for space among the tiny colourful stones:

Mosaic ruins

After we picked through the wildflowers and examined the stone mosaics, we got back into the car and headed out of the moshav. On the way we stopped so that I could take a picture of Shavei Tzion’s first building – a guard tower, which is now used for storing local archives:

The archives building

As I examined the building from the outside I saw an elderly man reading a piece of mail. I approached him and asked if the building was now a museum of sorts. He answered that the building now held the archives of the moshav and if I wanted, he could open it up and show me around. I had no idea what to expect but usually good things come to those inquisitive and patient so I waved the car over and introduced the old man, Uri Gefen, to my family. He opened one of the doors and showed us the old photographs and the old maps of the moshav. He explained to us that Shavei Tzion was founded by a group of Jews who fled from Rexingen, Germany during the turmoils of Europe in those days. The brave group established the collective moshav in 1938, just minutes away from another German settlement, that which is Nahariya. Uri Gefen went on to tell us how he came to Israel back in 1943. He was a child in Poland and when the Russians conquered his area, he and other children fled south to Uzbekistan and Afghanistan. They then made it to Tehran, Iran and were therefore known as the “Tehran Children.” Leaving Iran they travelled the Indian Ocean until the made their way up the Red Sea and to the Suez Canal. From there they took a train through Sinai and made it to the Holy Land, safe and sound. In today’s world, such a long and winding journey would be ridiculous – after all, Israel just a flight or two away from everywhere!

Uri Gefen, the local archiver

Uri Gefen told us something fascinating that I must share. As I mentioned earlier, the Jewish settlers of Shavei Tzion were from the German city of Rexingen, they lived there for hundreds of years, among the local Christian population. During one of the Crusades, many of Rexingen’s Christians headed south to the Holy Land to free it from the hands of the Muslims, as everybody knows. Not every Crusader came back, many fell in battle and many left marks wherever they went. Fast-forward to the 20th Century when the Jewish inhabitants of Rexingen headed south to the Holy Land, to settle it, they found themselves in the Galil, an area much influenced by the Crusaders so many years ago. During excavations, the Jews previously of Rexingen found Crusader ruins and remains, and those Crusaders were from none other than Rexingen as well! “The finger of G-d,” said Uri Gefen. I’m inclined to agree.

After much talk we bid the helpful archiver farewell, thanking him over and over for his interesting insights into the history of Shavei Tzion. But before we left, we stopped at the old Bet Knesset (Synagogue) – a building duplicated from the settlers’ counterpart back in Germany. Sadly the door was locked… but redemption came in the words of an Arab cleaning woman. She told us where to find the keys and then reminded us that we needed to return them when we were done. We assured her we would and opened the synagogue. Here is what we saw, definitely of Germanic design:

Bet Knesset (Synagogue)

It was an amazing little trip, from the raw beauty of the beach to the poignant stories from the archiver, but the clock was ticking and we had shopping to do. We got into our car and drove away… but as new people, with new thoughts and perspectives on the incredible miracles that have happened throughout the generations.

Pesach (Part 2)

Continuing with the festivities of Passover (Pesach), here is a brief account of Wednesday – our last trip day:

The morning started pleasantly enough but then the clouds rolled in from the West and the rain began to pitter-patter. Our hopes of making it to the last day of the Ma’alot Stone in the Galilee Symposium were seemingly dashed. The much-anticipated Ehud Banai concert was also hanging in limbo… But then the rain stopped and the sun came back out. The concert was already rescheduled to be held at the Heichal Tarbut of Ma’alot – that same beautiful performance hall that hosted the Lahakat Droz and Dudu Tassa concerts that I wrote about some time back (here). We drove down to the lake and found that the festivities were somewhat closed down and although the sculptures were finished and standing erect for inspection and approval, the long line of boothes that wrapped partway around the lake were mostly closed and abandoned. So we examined the sculptures.

''Cyclic Growth'' by Annabella Claudia Hofman (Italy)

I cannot make up my mind as to which sculpture appealed to me the most – every year I seem to have the same problem. Some of them are downright dastardly, but there are always a few that I like, at least marginally. Here is another sculpture worth mentioning – this one was the topic of social commentary, the Chinese oppression of the Chinese people:

''Captured Stone'' by Liu Yang (China)

There were other nice sculptures which weren’t adequately captured by my camera including a pomegranate/grenade (the same word in Hebrew) and one resembling waterfalls. But there were other areas of the festival beckoning, including the peaceful garden area where picnickers flock:

The peaceful part of Lake Monfort

Of course the paddle-boats and kayaks were in operation, endlessly circling and criss-crossing the placid little lake. But it was in this peaceful section, away from the hum of commercialized vacationing, that we loitered in.

In the gardens area of Lake Monfort

Upon return to the house we ate and got ready for the free concert of Ehud Banai which was to start at 8:00 PM, he-who-comes-first-gets-in-until-capacity-style. We drove down at about 8:15, not thinking that it would be too full – there is the general lackadaisical approach to scheduled times and the fact of the venue-change that might not have been known to all – but we were wrong, very wrong. My sister and I stood outside in the chilly night air, waiting for the front doors to open. But they weren’t, and the clock was ticking. Eventually, after so many people lost heart and returned to their houses, the side door was opened and all who remained outside made their way indoors. It was some time later, after standing fruitlessly at the inside door, hearing the faint music inside, that the purge began. Security guards and officials began to tell everyone to leave, that the concert had already begun and that there was no chance they were getting in. I was standing at the door, wearing the exact clothes as the picture above this paragraph so one of the guards asked if I was guarding/working in the building. I nodded “no,” and then nodded “yes” very excitedly but he already saw me confirming my capacity as a guest/wannabe concert goer. During the purge we simply sat down on one of the many couches strewn about the room and waited it out. By then there were only some thirty-odd people still clinging on to the hope that they would be admitted. Eventually a benovelent guard opened one of the doorways and allowed people to stand in the doorway, barely seeing but indeed hearing the concert within. Here we were, looking like a lame group that couldn’t manage to get in:

Hearing the concert from the outer room

But eventually, some two and a half hours after we arrived at the building, one of the guards hand-selected us for admittance. The system they had was for every person that left, a person would be allowed in. There are only 495 seats in the auditorium and they claimed that nearly 800 people were crammed inside. The guard cleared a tiny path for us and we were semi-literally flung into the dark room. We were glad and made our way to a decent level where we were able to see the concert.

Ehud Banai Concert 1

But after some time, and some of the crowd thought the concert was over, we made our way closer to the stage. Ehud Banai came back out and began the longest encore I’ve ever heard.

Ehud Banai Concert 2

Now, just to give a brief explanation as to who this singer is, Ehud Banai is an Israeli legend. In 2005 Ynet had a poll asking Israelis who they thought were the greatest Israelis ever. Ehud Banai merited to be #28 on the list, beating out old Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir and Israel’s most decorated soldier (now turned Leftist saboteur) Ehud Barak. Beginning his musical career in the London Underground after his military service, Ehud Banai rose to become a music icon in Israeli society. Had I known his music beforehand I would have had a greater appreciation for his concert but I knew that despite my ignorance, there were millions who would have come in my place, so I’d better enjoy myself. Towards the very end of his show we made our way to the stage itself, and I reached out to touch it, just to say that I touched the stage at an Ehud Banai concert. Here he is, the man of the hour, Ehud Banai, up close and personal:

Ehud Banai

And that concert concluded the festivities of Chol HaMoed, Thursday was a day of cooking and preparation for the end day of Pesach, and the subsequent Shabbat.

A Hilulah

This motzai Shabbat, and Sunday until sundown, is the hilulah of both Rabbi Yaakov Abuhatzeira, the grandfather of the famed Baba Sali, and the Rambam (Maimonides). A hilulah is the Sephardi way of saying yartziet, the marking of the date of one’s passing from this world. So, 132 years ago (in 1880), Rabbi Yaacov Abuhatzeira, also known as the Abir Yaacov, passed away. To this date, congregations the world over celebrate his life and hold feasts in honour of his name. And yes, the bet knesset (synagogue) next to my house held a feast as well, but on Thursday night for convenience sake.

The set tables

Bet knesset Eli Cohen, the synagogue next to my house, was built in the late 60s by the Moroccan immigrants who founded Ma’alot in the 1950s. The name Eli Cohen is a famous one in Israel as he was a spy legend. Eli Cohen worked his way into the upper echelons of the Syrian government and military and gave them bad advice to provide an edge for the Israeli soldiers during wartime. One of the notable tricks he played on the Syrians was convincing them to plant trees next to every bunker they had in the Golan area and in Syria itself. By planting trees under the ruse of provide shade for the Syrian soldiers, Eli Cohen had marked the Syrian defence for every Israeli soldier. He ended up getting caught, quite accidently by the KGB, and was hanged by the Syrian government in 1965. More can be read here: http://www.saveisrael.com/martyred/elicohen.htm

Eli Cohen

So it was in the large room that was added on to the original building that was the location of the feast. Photos and drawings of Rabbis from both the “old country” and of Israel itself line the walls and the mood is set for a glimpse back to the past. I had left the house, along with my little brother Nissim, thinking I was late, but I wasn’t. I stopped along the way to help my neighbor Guy bring speakers to the bet knesset and when we got there the event hadn’t even started. But when it did start, and the people – many of them new friends of mine – gathered in from the torrential rain outside to eat large triangles of lechem beit (“house bread” made at local bakeries and pizzerias) with salads from roasted eggplant to matboucha, this is what it looked like:

My table

Some of the other tables

It would be wrong to leave out two of the Moroccan staples that adorn every feast of festivity, the Moroccan fish and the bottle of arak. When the Moroccan fish was brought out I was eager to take a picture of it but, alas, mine wasn’t so aestetically pleasing so I snapped a shot of Yehuda Uzan’s fish across from me:

Moroccan fish

And of course, the numerous bottles of arak – an anise-flavoured liquor famous in the Middle East but virtually unknown to many Americans. I actually snatched this bottle of arak from a neighbouring table as our bottle’s label had gotten ripped:

Arak - the preferred drink of the Moroccan

And of course, no feast in honour or in memory of someone can be held without some words being said. At this particular event, HaRav Meir Sayag and Rav Gil Ben Shoshan, an previous neighbor of ours, graced our meal with stories about Rabbi Yaacov Abuhatzeira. After the speeches we continued the meal with rice, potatoes, meat, chicken and schnitzel, sipping down arak, beer, soda, water and cheap whiskey. As we ate, members of the bet knesset auctioned off various Judaica objects “in the merit of” the Baba Sali, Rabbi Yaacov Abuhatzeira and the Rambam. When that was finished, Shimon Cohen, one of the backbones of the bet knesset, handed out candles to all, for us to light in our own houses in merit of Rabbi Yaacov Abuhatzeira and the Rambam.

Rabbi Yaacov Abuhatzeira

While we listened to the mixture of ethnic Israeli music and Moroccan Arabic songs about the Baba Sali and hilulahs in general I felt saddened that sharing this experience will be sans audio so I switched my camera over to video mode and took a little 180 degree spin, capturing a fraction more of the event. And here it is, hosted by YouTube, for all to see and to be a part of:

Next year I look forward to attending this hilulah again, maybe in Nahariya where the Abir Yaacov’s illustrious descendants carry on the family heritage, but, until then, I have a candle to light this Motzai Shabbat.