I spent eight exhausting days in the Holy Land as a guest of Israel's Ministry of Tourism; a strategy of the government's to balance the reporting on the country and hopefully to entice others to travel there. During our first dinner, at a restaurant in Tel Aviv, the ministry's branch director of hosting operations, Benjamin-Gad Ninnayi, presented his case passionately: "Why look elsewhere? This country is a diamond, a treasure. There are beautiful things all over the world, but they can't compare to Jerusalem."
Yes, perhaps, but as I came to understand, attracting tourists to the Holy Land is no easy feat. As a result of the 1987 and 2000 intifadas (the often violent Palestinian uprising against Israel's occupation of the West Bank and Gaza), tourists to the country spiraled downwards. Tourism dropped from 2.7 million visitors in 2000 to 860,000 two years later. The government hopes to reach 1.8 million this year.
I must admit, when I received the invitation to travel to Israel with three other Canadian journalists, I didn't exactly jump at the chance. Headlines about suicide bombers and terrorist attacks flashed through my mind. I called my husband. Without a second thought he said, "You should go."
The normalcy of daily life struck me repeatedly. On our last day in Tel Aviv we strolled along the crowded downtown streets, which are lined with designer shops, sunny outdoor cafes and trendy restaurants. Everywhere I looked, people were simply living. Shopping, eating, talking with friends — something that seemed a beautiful testament to the human ability to live on in spite of tragedy.
I began to understand Benjamin's words from our first night. "You are here to see with your own eyes and experience the normal life of Israel. It is a beautiful place. Jews and Arabs live side by side." He told us about an Arab woman who babysits his children. Our driver, Nachshon Zada, said he has many Arab neighbours and his children run freely in the neighbourhood, even at a very young age. He said everyone looks out for each other.
Contrasting such happy images with visuals we see in the news had my mind working overtime. Thankfully, part of our tour included sailing on the Sea of Galilee, where the water was so still I found it difficult to imagine the violent storm Jesus once calmed. The tranquil moments spent on the lake (known as the Kineret to locals) gave me time to collect my thoughts. No wonder Jesus got in a boat and sailed these waters when he needed peace from the crowds. Later that evening, while strolling along the boardwalk, I saw a young man fishing. Almost immediately on casting his line into the water, a fish bit the bait-free hook. He told us he had only been there for 20 minutes and his bucket was nearly full. That evening, my relaxation continued at the beautiful Scots Hotel in Tiberias, which used to be a hospital built by a Scottish doctor 150 years ago, and is now run by the Church of Scotland.
Several days later and wanting to experience some Jewish nightlife, we walked to the downtown area of new Jerusalem at about 10:30 at night. The streets were absolutely packed with pre-teens, teenagers and young adults. Groups of girls who couldn't have been older than 10 wandered the cobblestone streets freely, bothered by no one. I heard music playing, people laughing, and youngsters enjoying life. I thought of my reaction if I were to see these young people out after dark by themselves in downtown Toronto. I shared these thoughts with one of my fellow journalists, who was equally surprised by the obvious contrast. But to locals, it is simply a way of life.
Another aspect of Israeli life hit me while in Jerusalem. I awoke one morning to find out that a suicide bomber had attacked a Tel Aviv nightclub where some Israeli soldiers were enjoying an evening out. The somber faces of our hosts that morning sparked a feeling of hopelessness in me. It seemed there was no solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; nothing that would make both sides happy or satisfied. I tried to imagine living in a place where every day there is the threat of violence. It's not the fear of that violence that would be so difficult to live with, but the on-going feeling of despair and helplessness.
We experienced some miliatry checkpoints as we drove south from Jerusalem towards the Dead Sea, but it was never a problem getting through. There were often soldiers who checked handbags on the way into restaurants or markets, and young army recruits casually walked the streets in groups with M-16s strapped to their backs (Israel requires army enlistment at age 17), but most measures seem to be taken to keep people safe.
While in Jerusalem, we met a Canadian woman who has lived there for 22 years, leading a messianic congregation with her husband. Wayne and Anne Hilsden have helped turn King of Kings Assembly into the largest Christian church in Israel. The international congregation began with 12 people and now is about 600-strong. They honour their Jewish roots by reading from the Torah, celebrating Jewish feasts, and sometimes singing in Hebrew.
Anne had two young boys when they moved to Israel and now has two more. They call Israel home — despite a close-call that would cause most mothers to pack up and leave. Several years ago, Anne and one of her sons were going to take a bus to an appointment. Pressed for time, they decided to hop into a taxi instead. The very bus they were supposed to board was blown up by Palestinian terrorists. The shocking scene was not enough to scare the Hilsdens away. Anne said she loves Israel — especially the sunny weather, the great food and the warm and friendly people. "It has been really great to bring up our boys in Jerusalem. It's very safe. They're really protective of children here," she said, conscious that her words are surprising.
Despite the potential to worry, I felt safe during the entire trip. There is so much to see in this small country (less than 500 kilometres from end to end, roughly the size of Prince Edward Island). Our guide, Ziv Cohen, was indispensable. His knowledge of the Holy Land was impressive and his personal insight, sense of humour, and the care he took to ensure we saw what we wanted to see, went beyond the call of duty. Ziv has a degree in the history and geography of Israel, is a certified guide and is working on a masters degree in political science of the Middle East. He charges $350 US a day for the rental of a van and his guide services.
From the cool shores of Galilee to the blazing sun of the desert, the awesome sights didn't cease. I took a cable car up to Masada, a UNESCO World Heritage site and a fort built by King Herod in the Judean desert. Herod never needed to use the site as such, but in 70 A.D. about 1,000 Jews took refuge there during a war with the Romans. Their safety remained for three years, until 15,000 Roman soldiers figured out how to penetrate the fort. Not wanting to endure Roman capture, they decided to kill themselves; including women and children. I sat in the remains of the synagogue where the decision was made and carried out. I tried to imagine the bloodshed that day — the desperation needed to trigger such an act. The sun beat down upon me as large black crows perched themselves on the edges of the synagogue ruins. Goosebumps bristled along the back of my neck.
I visited Capernaum, where Christ stayed with Peter in his home. While there, I saw ruins of what is believed to be Peter's home, where an inner room still remains like that used by early Christians who feared persecution. Looking upon the site that may have been the first Christian meeting place left me in awe.
I also visited Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls, Jewish documents dating from the third century B.C. to the first century A.D., were found in caves. I also toured 4,000-year-old Jaffa, where Peter brought Tabitha back to life and Jonah set out on his fateful voyage. I walked the shores of the Jordan River, floated in the salty waters of the Dead Sea, and visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum, where the heart-wrenching exhibits and photographs were often too terrible to look at. I ate sweet dates, figs and apricots, salty goat cheese, smooth hummus, rich olive oil spiced with fresh oregano and drank plenty of Israeli wine.
And of course, I went to Jerusalem. The "Golden City," taking its name from the creamy-coloured stone used to build most of the city, is magical, spiritual and awe-inspiring. The Old City is one that has to be seen to be believed, and new Jerusalem holds an inexplicable quality of its own. The museums and markets, the first-class restaurants with succulent, international cuisine and the palpable feeling that this is God's land, made Jerusalem unforgettable.
It was the details of daily life that interested me most while in Jerusalem. The Old City captivated me, with its stone streets and distinct quarters where Jews, Muslims, Arab Christians and Armenian Christians live. Amidst Temple ruins and crumbling Roman columns, laundry hung on lines between houses, brightly coloured pashminas and silk scarves decorated peddlers' shops, Orthodox Jews washed their hands at a fountain before praying at the Western Wall, students of orthodox schools lounged in grassy courtyards between classes and soldiers guarded the entrance up to the Temple Mount, where the Al Aqsa mosque stands.
The city shut down on the Sabbath. It amazed me that the hotel offered a special Shabbat elevator that automatically made trips up and down so observant Jews didn't have to push the buttons, and lights in the rooms were set on timers. The extent to which religious Jews go to observe biblical laws fascinated me. Ziv told me that the Bible gives Jews their identity, and I realized how true this is. Israel's Supreme Court sits quite close to the gates of the Old City. This location reflects the Bible's frequent references to judges, priests and elders sitting at the city gates, doling out judgment, making official announcements and keeping the peace.
As with any tourist destination, there were people looking to capitalize on tourists' emotions. Some young men were selling brochures on the Via Dolorosa (Stations of the Cross) for two shekels. In Nazareth, one shopkeeper was selling vials of Holy Land soil (basically a tablespoon of dirt). At the Mount of Olives, where there is a fantastic lookout over Jerusalem, a man was selling rides on his camel, Kojak, while other peddlers were trying to entice tourists to buy maps, flags, artists' prints and just about anything else vaguely related to Israel. As long as I firmly told them I wasn't interested, they didn't bother me.
A brand new visitors' centre in Caesarea, the ancient sea port built by King Herod in the first century B.C., was a highlight. Tourists can enjoy a short video documenting the building of Caesarea, where Paul was imprisoned, and witness the port's subsequent sinking to the depths of the sea. Avid divers can even don their wetsuits and explore the ruins preserved in the Mediterranean. An interactive experience uses rear-screen projection to bring to life 13 different characters from biblical times, including the apostle Paul and Herod. Visitors can ask the moving holograms questions and they respond in larger-than-life animation. It is one of only a few places in the world to showcase such an attraction. The entire revamping of the centre and harbour cost almost $8 million Cdn.
On our first night, Benjamin told us, "You will not find another place like Israel. Everywhere you throw a stone, there is history." The most amazing thing is that archaeologists like Dr. Dan Bahat, who took part in some of the most significant archaeological digs in the country and teaches regularly at the University of Toronto, say this is only the beginning of Israel's treasures. "Everyday, our knowledge is growing. It is not the same Jerusalem anymore," said Bahat over dinner on our last night in the city. "I believe our greatest discoveries are ahead of us."
