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Published: August 24th 2007
Sunrise over Jordan
A feathered friend joins me to watch the sun rise over the Dead SeaThey have a lot to say, the Doom Merchants, when you tell them you’re planning a trip to Israel. They overflow with warnings. Why Israel? I was consistently challenged. Well, I’ll tell you why…
Picture the scene… floating in the sea under a cloudless sky. Eyes closed against the sun… Jordan in the haze on one horizon, the West Bank on the other. All is calm. All is peaceful. Idyllic? Absolutely. That is, until you decide enough’s enough and you get out of the water. Crunch time. This for me was one of the most revolting, wonderfully revolting, experiences of my life…
…Welcome to the Dead Sea. Not only is your skin saltier than beef jerky, it's also smothered beneath a fine layer of what feels like snot.
Yes. All over. In fact, this 'body bogey' is none other than the minerals and oils that fine ladies-wot-luncheon pay squillions for in spas all over the world... So, since it’s mine for free, I grin and I bear it. I am after all a child of the beauty product era, and I wish to reap as many of the super-healing, youth-infusing, anti-ageing benefits as possible…
But
it is hard. It feels horrible. I am baking, and I mean BAKING hot and salt is rapidly solidifying around my neck, in my ears and right up in my armpits. My once obedient hair has morphed into a hard platypus-like tail of matted carpet. The relentless desert sun beats down and I tingle all over. The minutes tick past and suddenly I’d rather chew glass than endure any more of the self- induced discomfort any longer... so I pull down on the shower hose and ahhhhhhhhhhh... fresh water, no matter how unpleasantly warm and sulphur-fart smelling- has never felt so good.
And that’s rather how it was for me throughout my backpacking in Israel… suprises in all forms. From the characters I met to the dishes I devoured. A far cry from the 'Camels-Desert-Gaza-War-Zone' that might pop into mind. A wonderful mixing bowl of the old, the very very old and the spanking brand new… whisk that lot together and that’s exactly what puts the real in Israel…
Tel Aviv. A hip, swanky modern bubble with beaches, bars, oh-so-uber-trendy galleries and the very best sort-of-on-sort-of-off-the-beach electro-trance parties. No tourists. No travellers. Very Israeli.
Sufficiently under evolved by the Dead Sea
I may look delighted but in truth I couldn't wait to wash off the black Dead Sea mud! ...Hundreds of intoxicated techno ravers spread out across terraces under the stars. Dance floors of Arabic rugs on the sand. Rifles banging against your thighs as one of the many 18 year old soldiers, either male or female dance next to you... yeah, a little unnerving the first time but you get used to it. A raw and edgy gathering of Tel Aviv’s coolest crowd. The rooftops positively buzzing with the most beautiful people on earth. (Oh I kid you not. the guys and girls here are nauseatingly jaw dropping). Good times…
A couple hundred kilometres later, and much to my surprise I find in a Jewish student camp at the foot of Masada (an ancient Jewish fortress ruin over looking Jordan and the Dead Sea.) Yeah, the Lonely Planet gave no fore-warning of the fact I would be the ONE AND ONLY non-Jew solo traveller in amongst two hundred or so Jewish students half my age!... Yes. Interesting.
A kosher lunch later and I’m by the pool with eight or so Ultra-Orthodox, or Haredi Jewish seventeen year old boys encroaching around me. (Because, I assume, they never get to see female ankles, let alone a
Spices
Miles upon miles of spices in a local Israeli market half naked Brit)... To their disappointment, no I was NOT sixteen! But my elderly twenty three year old stature didn’t put them off too much and I spent the afternoon talking to a Rabbi's son from Pennsylvania, about their way of life, long side- burns and all...
Despite some of his extremist views on the world like 'oh I think the law should state that any Mexican who jumps the border gets a bullet in the forehead...” and “being gay is a disease, there must be a pill we can make to cure this disease'… (which I was too shocked to even reply to, I mean what can you say to someone so radical?)... Apart from all that, it was fascinating to learn the ins and outs of their closed way of living. Especially through the eyes of a teenager and not just what's written in the books. So... by a pool in the Judean desert was where I had my first Haredi Jewish life lesson.
I hiked in the dark up the steep cliff to the top of Masada for a 5am sunrise over the Dead Sea and stared across at Jordan. Breathtaking. I also,
of course, indulged in the properties of the infamous sea and read my book whilst floating horizontally... IT REALLY IS TRUE... you DO actually float! A bizarre feeling. Thankfully I had taken the Jewish boy's advice ‘not to shave anything'. I didn’t yelp like I heard some others as they hit the water…
I also covered my entire body in what resembled... in every possible form... poo. Yes, the notorious Dead Sea mud. Again, people pay through the nose for the stuff so I hope it was worth it. It was foul. Every inch of my being lay caked beneath a hard spread of dried sludge. Mixed with the complimentary twig or two that, whilst oh-so-not-very-elegantly squatting, I scooped up from the ground and pasted all over myself.
Once I looked sufficiently under-evolved, I persuaded someone to take a seriously necessary photograph. I was the crazy lunatic woman that my poor photographer thought I was. I then went for my one indulgence, an hour-long massage. Ummm I thought… This is going to be heaven... Well... the air conditioning was nice...
…But the gentle caress of my over weight, long permed haired greasy bloke with
ever-so-slightly calloused hands and, shall we say... a penchant for focusing on mon deriere for oohhh... I don’t know... TEN whole minutes alone (!)... Wasn’t quite the therapy I had in mind!... No sweat though. All part of the fun and games of travelling right? As they say in Isreal, Akhla sababba fanan. Which I guess translates as everything’s fine.
Jerusalem is wonderful. A crazy mix made up of more religions and religious sects than you can count on your fingers. And home to the best hummus in Israel. (Or so claim the Israeli’s that live in Jerusalem!) Talk about surprises… I saw a rabbi with an iPod and a Haredi Jew making shabbat plans on his mobile.
The Jewish Western, or perhaps better known Wailing Wall was memorable. Wow it's weird. Hundreds upon hundreds of devoted Jews edging and elbowing their way closer to the impressively high stone wall, the holiest of Jewish sights. Imagine drums, music, bar mitzvahs, people crying, people laughing, tourists snapping, kids playing, sweets flying, everyone praying. Grannies sitting on plastic chairs completely in the way and not giving a damn, rabbis chanting and me just watching.
I did
manage to push my way forward. I stood at the wall sandwiched between an Orthodox woman with halitosis reciting passages of the Torah and a Jewish mother singing prayers whilst repeatedly slamming her confused three year old daughter’s hand against the wall. Pressed against my backside was the bare belly of a tarty Israeli teen. Noisily chewing gum in my ear and punching a text into her mobile phone. Again, more suprises.
I also stood entranced at the gold domed Muslim Al-Aqsa mosque, the Christian church of Jesus' grave, and I followed his final steps carrying the crucifix along the Vie Della Rosa. All fascinating. But for me the most interesting bit of the old city is how you have these three major and a lot more minor religions coming together in this maze enclosed by walls. You have the Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Greek Orthodox, and Armenian Quarters. and they all somehow function side by side. Remarkable.
My favourite places are the Islamic alleys. I have fallen in love with the Arabic bazaars, their bright pink cauliflower... (I know... HOW?!) and the endless sweets and spice stalls. And of course all the old silver. Not to
Floating
Yes! You really DO Float!! mention my favourite Arabic feast- undoubtedly kunafa. A Palestinian treat of warm stretchy cheese, deep fried and topped with a crispy layer of hairy matted wheat shreds and laden with rose tasting red sugar syrup… sinfully calorific and totally irresistible.
Your British passport gets a nod and suddenly, you’re in another world. This is the West Bank... one more diamond in disguise and a land full of surprises. I spent nights partying and smoking apple nargileh with newly made Arab friends in Ramallah, a tourist no-go Palestinian red zone. Amazing people. Just like the Israelis, their arms are wide open. One of my definite highlights …
Seeing the wall is incredible enough. Having to go through the relentless high security checkpoints, ignoring your almost-at-breaking-point-bladder as the worker mini bus you've hitched a ride on flies from rock to rock avoiding (although sometimes failing to avoid) the car sized pot holes that decorate the dusty 'road' is something else. London commuters may whinge about the traffic but they don’t know how lucky they are!
Not only are these work buses over-crowded with tired, hot and oh-so-fragrant-workers, but the sometimes air-bound journey is not for those
Israeli Soldiers
Hopping on board my bus to Tiberias prone to motion sickness. And that’s if you’re moving at all. So it’s not for the claustrophobic or easily bored either.
Rubbish-strewn streets. Rifles, soldiers and a common understanding NOT to talk about religion if you have any sense whatsoever. Abandoned concrete shelled-out buildings. Black plastic bags hanging silently from loose electric cables. The slow pace of frustrated traffic as workers with Israeli day permits make their way home across the border.
The wall itself, the physical barrier segregating this complicated, sought after land is a sight you can't forget. Huge, stark and offensive. The angry, frustrated youth have expressed their ire through graffiti. I have photographed as much as I can, I hate using this word, but it really is amazing.
As you move further into Palestine, the barren military-sniper-abandoned-homes-and-general-chaos calms down a bit. Roofless squats turn into two storey houses with gardens. Streets with souks and Artful Dodger-esque kids racing about make you feel like you’re back in civilisation. I Squeezed through darkly-clad in head-to-toe black Muslim women (how they cope in this heat is beyond me.)
I found by a mosque on a busy Friday morning a street vendor
Crossing over into Palestine
The painfully laborious checkpoint as we move towards Ramallah selling more wickedly fattening Arabic goodies to remember. This time a florescent yellow cake. Almost dripping with grease but tasting of all the goodness in the world squished into one mouthful (!) Also a pastry roll, again swimming in fat, with a kind of sweet crushed pistachio paste inside. A place for exciting little discoveries, not exciting little waistlines.
Security is red hot everywhere in the country as one might expect. Whether it’s to get into a museum or into a mosque. Whether you’re, heaven forbid, a bum bag-wearing tourist or a side-burned rabbi, everyone gets a good frisking. It’s so normal you forget it goes on. But it’s a constant reminder of the delicate political climate that silently looms.
When I was swigging the local Goldstar ale on a beach in Tel Aviv I saw fighter jets and choppers heading the 50km south to Gaza. I shared lip gloss with a soldier my age. And let another rest his rifle across both our laps on a bus.
A lot of my Israeli friends worked as intelligence officers in the army. Not only can they not visit any Arab countries (as all Israelis are
Tel Aviv sunset
"Ahla sababba fanan!!" forbidden to,) but they can’t even fly over them in a plane! These small things keep you aware. Yes, this is an extraordinary land of wonderful people, great places and hell yes, great food… it’s also a country at war.
By Sarah Blackett ©
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Anwar
non-member comment
Israel trip
hey, i love your blog. I am actually thinking of going to israel in july. I would like to ask you some questions. Was israel expensive? what's the best way to move from one place to another? Did you visit the dead sea/masaba as a day trip? my email is torres4@purdue.edu take it easy Anwar