The Mysteries of Israel

“Your feet will follow your heart.” - An Irish Proverb

I spent the last twelve days in Israel following my heart and trying to unlock some of its mysteries.

The mysteries of Israel or my heart? Both.

Mt. Bental, Golan Heights

Israel is a complicated country. Layers of ruins from so many different peoples. Conquerors, conquered, and conquerers again rising and falling, peaks and valleys of history. Dotted lines dividing the country, invisible walls dividing peoples.

We crisscrossed the little country from the modern city of Tel Aviv through Haifa and Acco on the Coast, inland to Nazareth, the Sea of Galilee and the Golan Heights, South to the Dead Sea, Masada, and the Holy City of Jerusalem.

Golan Heights

Carmel Market, Tel Aviv

Bahai Gardens, Haifa

Israel was strangely familiar, yet completely mysterious. In some ways it felt like home with the rental Smartcar (which by the way, I would not recommend renting unless you afix a sign on the rear window to the effect of "Please don't honk me, I'm not driving a real car"), wifi everywhere, many English-speaking people, big food portions, hip cafes and restaurants, and creative health conscious foods that reminded me of Bay Area cuisine.

On the other hand, it was a secret language that I didn’t understand and only revealed itself in bits and pieces. Who knew that it was illegal to buy alcohol after 11:00 p.m. in Israel? Not until a clerk stopped us as we looked at the beer in the Am/Pm. Who knew that you could still drive a rental car on the 90, a highway that cuts through Palestine but is apparently completely under Israeli control even though under the rental contract you’re not allowed to drive through Palestine? Not until I randomly looked on TripAdvisor. Who knew when anything was even open? That National Parks close early on Shabbat... that the Customer Service to register the car for a toll road closes at 1 p.m. on Shabbat... that all of the restaurants and businesses close at 6:00 p.m. on Memorial Day… that there is no public transport on Shabbat?

Even every airbnb place we stayed at was a little treasure hunt. One host sent us a photo of where he had hidden the key with arrows pointing in between the slats of a big blue shelving unit in front of the building. So there we were hunting the grounds for the correct looking shelf and fumbling around for the hidden key at 2:00 a.m. Another host had hidden the key under a broken chair. And another hid it under one of the bricks in the garden. Each time, it was like a game, reading descriptions of where to turn, which door to open, where the key was hidden, how to turn on the hot water, what the wifi password was.

The searching continued in Jerusalem following the Via Dolorosa, the path that Christ followed from his sentence to his crucifixion and resurrection. With map in hand, we searched for the signs posted on the sides of buildings with roman numerals indicating which station of the cross it was. And then we tried to figure out what had happened there. Without a guide, every religious site was a little bit of a mystery.

At station IX on the Via Dolorosa, Old Jerusalem

View from Mount of Olives back towards the City Center

The Dome of the Rock, Old Jersualem

Journeying sometimes takes a little work. A little searching to find what lies at the end. And even then it’s not the end.

An evening singing circle just outside the Old Walls

On my plane ride to Tanzania, almost four months ago, I watched the Best Marigold Hotel, a movie about some retired Brits who move to India. The closing lines of the movie struck me, so I copied them into my journal as my first entry:

“But it’s also true that the person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing. All we know about the future is that it will be different. Perhaps what we fear is that it will be the same, so what we must celebrate is the changes because everything will be all right at the end, and if it’s not all right, it just might be it’s not the end.”

After four months on the road through Tanzania, Ethiopia, Spain, Morocco, and Israel, I’m heading home. But it’s not the end.