Continuing North from Haifa

The next day we traveled north from Haifa to explore Akko, or Acre, as the Crusaders called the city.  Located on the Mediterranean coast, Akko is one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in the world.  Its history goes back 4000 years. During ancient times, it was considered the gateway to Canaan. 

Alon told us that our visit would focus on the Crusader period (1096 CE – 1291 CE). Acre was the main point of entry to the Holy Land for Crusaders on their way to Jerusalem. Members of the Hospitallers (Knights of the Order of St. John) established a presence in Acre in the early 1100s. Members of two other religious military orders, the Templars and the Teutonic Knights, also set up bases in the city. In 1192, during the Third Crusade, King Richard I Lion-Heart of England and King Phillip II of France seized control of Acre. The city remained under Crusader control until it was retaken by the Mamluks in 1291. 

The Crusader city is still being excavated, along with remains from earlier Egyptian, Phoenician, Persian, Greek, and Muslim occupants of Akko. At present, visitors can see several of the Knights Halls in the 11^thcentury Hospitaller fortress. I was especially impressed by the informative and engaging multi-media exhibits. 

We also took time to explore some of Akko’s Muslim and Christian sites and to stroll through today’s Old City (dating back to the time of Ottoman rule). 

In Akko's Old City 

The el-Jazzar Mosque is located within the walls of the Old City. Its green dome and tall minaret dominate the skyline of Akko. 

We walked along the promenade overlooking the sea and stopped into the 18^thcentury Church of St. John the Baptist, built over the ruins of an earlier Crusader church. A Japanese Franciscan monk welcomed us and took advantage of the opportunity to converse with us in English. (He admitted that his Hebrew still isn’t very good.) 

Church of St. John the Baptist by Akko's old city walls

At lunchtime, we looked out over the city walls to the Mediterranean while we enjoyed a restaurant meal of mezze, kebabs, and grilled chicken. Before we left Akko, we made an obligatory shopping stop where we watched David Miro, an Iraqi-Israeli artist, demonstrate the traditional method of making hammered copper and silver bracelets. It’s no surprise that I bought one.  

We’d already had a busy and tiring day, but we weren’t finished yet. Next on the agenda was a drive up farther up the coast to the most northwest point of Israel. Here, we marveled at the Rosh HaNikra grottos, where the turquoise waters rushed into openings in the white limestone cliffs. It was quite a spectacular sight. Before getting back on the bus to return to Haifa, we chatted with some young soldiers doing their required military service at the border with Lebanon.  

That was a lot to absorb in one day and I think we all slept from exhaustion on the bus ride back to our hotel.  

Up the Coast to Haifa

It was a quiet Saturday morning when we set out for Haifa.  The distance from Tel Aviv to Haifa is only about 50 miles but we planned to make a stop along the way in Caesarea before we reached our destination.   

Like an experienced educator, Alon used our time on the bus to prep us for our upcoming visits to historical sites by giving us an overview of the long and complicated chronology of the Holy Land. Since I’m a history fanatic (it was my undergraduate major), I was enthralled to hear about the Canaanites, the Israelites, the Babylonians, the Persians, the Greeks (Hellenistic rule arrived with Alexander the Great), Hasmonean rule (an Israelite family), the Romans, who were followed by the Byzantines, then the Muslims, who ruled the Holy Land from 638 CE until the arrival of the Crusaders in 1099. Two hundred years later, the Mamluks (former slaves based in Egypt) took control. The Holy Land became part of the Ottoman Empire in 1516 and remained Ottoman territory until after World War I, when the British Mandate was established.  The independent state of Israel finally came into existence in 1948. 

Whew, that’s a lot to remember. Fortunately, Alon gave us handy bookmarks that presented this daunting amount of information in a clear graphic format. I used it for reference throughout the trip. 

Bookmark courtesy of our fabulous guide, Alon Ne'eman

Thanks to Alon’s preview, when we reached the Caesarea National Park about an hour later, I knew we’d be seeing the remains of a coastal city that is associated with King Herod the Great, the ruler appointed by the Romans to govern the small kingdom of Judea in the first century BCE. Herod himself was from a family of local Arab pagans who had converted to Judaism.  He is known for his extensive building projects throughout Palestine.  

Beginning around 25 BCE, Herod created a new city that he dedicated to Emperor Augustus Caesar, hence its name, Caesarea. The magnificent city included a huge two-part port, roads, temples, hippodrome, numerous public buildings, an amphitheater, and more. When the Romans formally annexed Judea to their empire, Caesarea became the capital of the province. Christians may recall that during the time of Jesus, the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate resided in Caesarea. 

So what did we see?  First of all, we climbed into the stands of the 6000-seat amphitheater, which is still in use today. We walked long the shoreline and looked out at what remains of the impressive deep water port.  Beside the port, as we listened to the crashing surf, we could see the recently excavated remains of Herod’s seaside palace. In addition to these notable structures, several pillars and pieces of statuary remain in place.   

This is what remains of Herod's seaside palace.

The park is very popular with Israeli families. Since it was the weekend and the weather was sunny and warm, we mingled with large crowds of local visitors as we toured the site, ate a picnic lunch, and browsed in the shops.  

At the nearby beach, we could see part of the aqueduct built by Herod in the 1^stcentury BCE. Although we weren’t dressed for swimming, I couldn’t resist walking in the sand to the water’s edge and dipping my hand into the delightfully warm foam. 

Afterwards, we continued on our drive to Haifa, Israel’s third largest city and an important port for nearly 3000 years.  It’s known as a place where people of several different faiths have coexisted peacefully for a long time.  In fact, Haifa’s landmark is the Baha’i Temple, and Haifa is the worldwide center of the Baha’i religion, which counts 6 million members today. 

Our first stop in Haifa was at the entrance to the Baha’i Temple’s terraced gardens.  From the top of the tall hill, we looked out over the dome of the temple to the sprawl of the city and the harbor below. Only members of the faith are allowed to enter the Temple, but we had an opportunity to speak briefly with a young man, a native of Cameroon, who was happy to answer our questions.

Alon had explained to us that the 19^thcentury, when the Baha’i faith developed from Islam, was a time of increasing industrialization and urbanization. Along with these trends came a growing sense of alienation, which left many people feeling the need to reconnect spiritually. It was in this context that the new Baha’i faith was established in Iran and subsequently spread to other countries.  

While there was still daylight, Alon led us on a walk through the colorful Wadi Nisnas neighborhood. It was easy to see why it’s sometimes called a “museum without walls.” Originally populated by Arabs, Wadi Nisnas now has a mixed population of Israeli Jews and Arabs (Muslim and Christian). Most of the signs were in Arabic as well as Hebrew. Alon pointed out a well-known falafel place and told us that the ubiquitous Middle Eastern delicacy originated in the Coptic Christian community in Egypt, as a Lenten dish.  

Scenes from Wadi Nisnas

Falafel shop in Wadi Nisnas 

We were pleased to see that our temporary home in Haifa, the Bay Club Hotel, was situated within walking distance of Wadi Nisnas and the German Colony, where many of Haifa’s restaurants are located. The building, which dates back to 1912, retained its elegant Art Deco décor, and offered a nightly happy hour, although not on the scale of what we had enjoyed in Tel Aviv. So when it was time for dinner, I joined a couple of OAT travel companions and headed back downhill to Wadi Nisnas and the German Colony.  

Bay Club Hotel in Haifa 

With all the colored lights and holiday decorations, both neighborhoods looked magical in the dark. On restaurant-lined Allenby Street in the German Colony, I had some excellent Israeli ice cream as a first course. Then, on the way back to the hotel, I grabbed a shawarma-stuffed pita sandwich “to go” in Wadi Nisnas.  

Wadi Nisnas after dark

Haifa's German Colony is a lovely place after dark. 

Then it was time to get a good night’s sleep so we would be ready to continue our explorations along the coast the next day.

A Quick Look at Tel Aviv

It took less than 24 hours for me to fall in love with Tel Aviv.  But what exactly was this intriguing city that reminded me of so many different places all at once?  Walking down Dizengoff Street and hearing so many people speaking English with American accents, I was sure I was somewhere in New York.  Then I noticed all the hip young people spilling out of restaurants and sitting at sidewalk tables – I had to be in trendy Brooklyn.  However, the corner juice stands with their artistic displays of luscious fruit gave me pause. Those, plus the palm trees, mild November weather and proximity to the beach made me think I was in Southern California or Florida. But at the same time, there was something definitely European about the city. Maybe it was the seaside promenade, reminiscent of Nice or the sidewalk cafés that seemed to be transported from Paris. And I couldn’t ignore the Bauhaus architecture everywhere I looked.  I had to stop and ask myself, Am I really in the Middle East? Am I really just a three-hour drive from Amman? Well, yes, I answered emphatically, as the aromas wafted over from the falafel and shawarma stands. 

Because Tel Aviv is such a unique combination of disparate elements, it defies simple description. But whatever the city is, I just somehow immediately felt at home here.  

I’m grateful to our wonderful guide, Alon, for all the background information he gave us on our way into the city. He explained that the modern city of Tel Aviv is very young, founded a little over a hundred years ago, primarily by Jewish immigrants from Europe. They came at a time when anti-Semitic violence in Europe was on the rise and opportunities for Jews were extremely limited.  Rather than resign themselves to life in provincial East European towns and shtetls, many young Jews decided to build new lives in their ancestral homeland, which was part of the Ottoman Empire.  They may have been inspired by Austrian journalist Theodore Herzl’s influential 1896 pamphlet, which proclaimed that there was no future for Jews in Europe and called for the creation of a Jewish state.  

The group of immigrants who founded a Jewish neighborhood on a sand dune just north of the old city of Jaffa in 1909 weren’t idealists or socialists.  They were pragmatic capitalists who came to start businesses. When the Nazis rose to power in Germany in the 1930s, a new group of Jewish immigrants came to Tel Aviv. (By this time, the British were in control of Palestine.) Among the new immigrants were many German Jewish architects who introduced Bauhaus (aka International style) architecture, a self-consciously new and modern style, to the fledgling city.  Today, with over 4000 Bauhaus buildings throughout the city, Tel Aviv is the Bauhaus capital of the world. 

International, or Bauhaus, architecture stresses functionality.  The buildings have smooth unornamented facades and clean, modern lines.  They are generally cubic, with right angles, often with rounded corners and balconies.  Local adapations in Tel Aviv included flat roofs, use of reinforced concrete, stilt type columns raising the building from street level, and long narrow horizontal windows.  The white color of the concrete gave Tel Aviv its nickname, “The White City.”  

Looking out from the balcony of my hotel room, I could easily identify several Bauhaus style buildings. As I set out for a walk to look for more examples of Bauhaus architecture, I tried to keep Alon’s warning in mind.  He wasn’t concerned about street crime, but he cautioned us to watch out for bicycles, electric scooters, and dog poop. In fact, he told us that there’s a word – psycholists – for the crazy bicyclists who won’t stop for anyone. 

View from the balcony of my hotel room  

Demographically, Tel Aviv is modern and young.  This was apparent from the large number of families with young children that I saw during my initial walks. Additionally, the population of Tel Aviv is secular, i.e. not traditionally religious. While Jerusalem may be considered Israel’s religious capital, Tel Aviv is clearly the country’s cultural capital, with first-rate world-class museums, theaters, concerts, dance companies, etc. It’s also a very diverse and liberal city. Approximately 20% of the population belongs to the LGBTQ community. 

By the time our group gathered for the nightly rooftop happy hour provided for hotel guests, I had decided that if I ever moved to Israel, Tel Aviv is where I would live. And I really have to take a moment to sing the praises of this happy hour. It ran for 3 hours every evening, with free drinks (Israeli wines, lemonade, tea, coffee) and free food (a rotating assortment of snacks).  On our first night, the snacks included crudités, pickled vegetables, hummus, falafel, cabbage salad, eggplant salad, mini pita breads, dried fruits, crackers, nuts, cookies, and more.  This easily eliminated the need to go out for dinner!  Plus, I almost forget to mention that there was a live jazz combo providing entertainment.  If you’re planning a trip to Tel Aviv, consider staying where I did, at the Center Chic Hotel or its nearly adjacent sister property, the Cinema Hotel (both part of the Atlas Hotel Group).  And in case you were wondering, their breakfast buffet is phenomenal.  In addition to all the marvelous breads, pastries, cheeses, fruits and salads, there was shakshuka (eggs poached in a boldly seasoned mixture of tomatoes, onions and peppers) on the buffet table.

Shakshuka

The breakfast buffet was in the movie-themed Cinema Hotel. 

As I discovered the next morning today’s, Tel Aviv is much more than the buzzing modern city. After a lengthy breakfast (I had to try everything), we headed south to Jaffa, the old historical part of the city with a history going back around 4000 years.  It was originally a Canaanite settlement that came under the rule of the Egyptians for about 300 years, from the mid-16^thcentury to the mid-12^thcentury BCE.  Archaeologists have discovered monumental gates going back to the time of the Egyptian pharaoh Ramses II. Jaffa’s good harbor and location on the shipping lanes between Egypt, Lebanon and Cyprus led to its growth. 

View from Jaffa towards the modern part of Tel Aviv

Reconstruction of the Egyptian gate 

For centuries, Jaffa served as an important port, bringing traders from around the world.  The mingling of cultures and ideas produced a very diverse and cosmopolitan city.  For European crusaders, Jaffa was as a gateway to Jerusalem. A Sephardic Jewish community, coming from Ottoman lands, settled in Jaffa in early 19th century. In the early 20^thcentury, many Ashkenazic Jewish immigrants settled in Jaffa, leading to some tension with the predominantly Arab population. Jaffa declined as Tel Aviv grew, but in recent years, it has become a highly desirable part of the city, with many neighborhoods being restored. Today, a third of Jaffa’s population is Arab, both Muslim and Christian.  When we drove around the landmark Clock Tower, built by the Ottomans in the early 20^thcentury, I noticed that almost all the shops had signs in Arabic as well as Hebrew. This area had distinctly Middle Eastern feel. 

Over the years, Jaffa has attracted artists, who set up studios and galleries in its picturesque streets and alleyways. Nowadays, tourists and locals alike flock to this part of the city for its artsy vibe and trendy restaurants. The narrow streets and stone arches reminded me of our medieval village in the South of France.  

To get an idea of the contemporary art scene, we visited the Ilana Goor Museum, housed on a hill in a beautiful rambling old stone building. The building is both the home of acclaimed Israeli artist Ilana Goor and a showcase of her collection of works by other artists. The beautiful rooftop garden, overlooking the port of Jaffa, featured work by several Israeli sculptors, including an amusing and provocative piece by Vered Aharonovitch. The Fountain (2014) is a satirical feminist piece inspired by the Trevi Fountain in Rome. It depicts a naked Neptune/Poseidon not as a powerful god but as a weakling being tormented by a group of little girls.  Perhaps it’s Neptune’s #MeToo moment.  

A piece by Ilana Goor inside the museum 

The Fountain by Israeli artist Vered Aharonovitch (at the Ilana Goor Museum)

After visiting the museum, we ducked out of the rain into workshop of Yemenite silver and goldsmith, Ben-Zion David, who learned his trade from his father. We sipped spicy Yemenite coffee flavored with ginger, cardamom and cinnamon (one member of our group likened it to drinking a gingersnap), admired the exquisite filigreed jewelry, and watched a video about Operation Magic Carpet, which brought the small impoverished Yemenite Jewish community to Israel in 1949-50. 

Jaffa is also the site of some important events in Christianity. We visited St. Peter’s Church, located just north of the Clock Tower Square. The current Franciscan church, with its tall bell tower, was built in late 1800s. It stands on the spot where a 13^thcentury Crusader fortress once stood. According to the New Testament, Jaffa is where St. Peter raised Tabitha, one of Jesus’ disciples, from the dead. (Since my familiarity with the New Testament is limited, I’m grateful that Alon was there with us to provide with this useful information.) 

Approaching St. Peter's Church in Jaffa

Interior of the Church 

Before we left Jaffa, we had the opportunity to spend some time at the home of a long-time Jaffa resident named Doris. As we ate the lunch she had prepared, she spoke to us at length about a variety of topics. Doris started by describing herself as a Palestinian Arab Israeli Christian woman. She spoke quite openly about her sense of identity, the challenges of being part of a minority in Israel, her hopes for the future, and her long struggle to develop an independent life in a traditional society after marrying at a very young age. It was an illuminating and thought-provoking presentation that underscored the complexity surrounding issues of identity in the Middle East. 

I could easily have spent the entire day in Jaffa, but by mid-afternoon, our group was back on the bus, heading to Carmel Market, Tel Aviv's main market. Unfortunately, it was Friday and most of the vendors were closing early to prepare for the Sabbath.  I barely had enough time to dash past the enticing displays of olives, halva, pomegranates, Judaica, spices, etc.  

So many varieties of halva!

The more I saw of Tel Aviv, the more entranced I was with the city.  I was so glad I had arranged to spend a few days here on my own at the conclusion of our OAT tour.  But first, I had a lot of other places in Israel to explore.  

Crossing Borders

It was almost time to say goodbye to Jordan.  Over the course of a mere 6 days, I had been exposed to a history and a culture that was almost entirely new to me.  I had gained valuable knowledge and understanding of this part of the Middle East, not only through visiting some amazing sights from the past but also by talking to the Jordanians of today. The insights I gained shattered many of my preconceived ideas.  Many thanks to Nader, my superb guide, for enhancing this eye- and mind-opening experience for me.  I’ll always think of him as Jordan's unofficial ambassador.  

I admit that before I arrived, I felt the slightest bit uneasy about being in an Arab country.  I wasn’t even sure if I should reveal my Jewish identity.  That feeling evaporated almost instantly.  All of the Jordanians I encountered were gracious and welcoming. I’m especially grateful that our group had a chance to spend an evening with a Jordanian family at our OAT-arranged home hosted dinner on our final evening in Amman.  It wasn’t just the cooking that we enjoyed although I have to mention the menu.  

There was the usual array of mouthwatering mezze, followed by a main course of maclouba, which translates as “upside down.”  It’s a traditional dish made with beautifully seasoned rice, vegetables, and chicken, all cooked separately and then combined in a large pan before being dramatically turned out onto a serving platter.  The final course was a variety of homemade desserts, including honey-sweetened mini pastries, a rice pudding flavored with mastic and sprinkled with pistachios, and a refreshing chilled beverage that combined lemon and mint. 

Even more memorable than the food was the conversation with the family members (father, mother, and two of their four children, an 8 year old daughter and a daughter in the mid-20s). The younger daughter was a delightful helper who is already learning English at her private school.  The older daughter, Sarah, is a law student in Amman. Her American-accented English was absolutely fluent.  Sarah looked like she would fit in on any college campus in the US and was extremely articulate as she explained her goals of going to graduate school in Canada and eventually working as a human rights lawyer.  

As we all sat around the long dining table, no conversation topics were off limits.  We were especially curious about how women fare in Jordanian society.  Since the women in the family were not wearing hijabs, we asked who makes that determination.  The father said it was usually the husband.  There was laughter all around the table when Sarah and her mother vigorously protested that they would make their own decision.  

I was quite surprised by the family’s liberal attitudes and wondered if this was typical of middle-class Jordanians.  Not really, the father indicated.  Within his own extended family, there is some disagreement about how closely to follow traditions.  He explained that he listens politely to his more observant older brother, and then does exactly what he wants to do.  It was a good reminder about the dangers of generalizing about the people of any country. 

On the day of our long drive (3 ½ hours) north from Petra to the border crossing into Israel, we spoke at length with Nad about a variety of subjects, including religion, drugs, income tax, education (very important with a large number of universities), birth control (available to all), the economy (see below), and government (the king has final authority over the legislature and judiciary).

He noted several challenges facing Jordan today. First of all, there is a pressing need to improve the infrastructure.  Secondly, Nad mentioned the large number of refugees still entering the country.  Many years ago, Jordan took in a large number of Palestinian refugees (including Nad’s family), many of whom settled permanently in Jordan and became Jordanian citizens.  Nowadays, most refugees come from Syria, hoping to escape that country’s violence and turmoil.  It’s uncertain as to if and when they will ever be able to return to their home country. 

There are also economic problems related to employment.  Every year, a large percentage of highly qualified young people who graduate from Jordanian educational institutions are forced to go abroad to find employment.  Meanwhile, the Jordanian economy attracts workers from other developing countries to fill lower-paying jobs in the construction and hospitality industries.  

Lacking oil and gas reserves, Jordan struggles to find the financial resources to deal with the problems it faces. The country relies on tourism for a large part of its revenue. It also exports minerals from the Dead Sea.  

Speaking of the Dead Sea (the lowest spot on earth), after about an hour into our journey north, we began to descend in altitude.  Within a short distance, we went from 900-1000 meters above sea level to 400 meters below sea level.  The desolate rocky landscape closer to Petra gave way to fields being readied for winter planting of wheat and barley.  Orchards, groves of olive trees, and clusters of pine trees and cypresses dotted the landscape. 

The border crossing procedure was complicated but not overly time-consuming.  We arrived at the King Hussein Bridge (known in Israel as the Allenby Bridge) at precisely noon. After Jordanian officials examined our passports, which took about15 minutes, Nad bid us farewell.  He would remain behind in Jordan while we traversed a strip of “no man’s land” on our Amman-based bus. When we approached the Israeli checkpoint another 15 minutes later, we got off the bus, collected our luggage, and walked into the Israeli zone.  Once our passports were examined and our luggage was screened, we were free to go. 

With Alon, our new Israeli guide, in charge, we were soon on our way to the city of Tel Aviv.  As we settled in for the ride, he told us that we’d be passing through Israel’s three geographic zones:  the valley, the mountains and the coastal plains. That sounded like a lot of geographic change within a distance of less than 200 kilometers (120 miles).  

Our route took us through the West Bank (aka “occupied territories” or “Judea and Samaria,” depending on who is speaking). Media images of rock-throwing, flag-waving Palestinians, Israeli soldiers and army tanks, bulldozers and settlements came to mind. Was I really here in this area that I had read and heard about so often in the news?  It looked so deceptively normal as we traveled west on the highway, with Alon pointing out the city of Jericho in the distance on the right. 

He also called our attention to the color of the cars’ license plates. I looked out the bus window and saw some cars with yellow license plates and others with green plates.  The cars with yellow plates were carrying Israelis while those with green plates belonged to Palestinians. The type of license plate you have determines the parts of the West Bank you can enter.  

To explain further, Alon gave us a quick overview of the system of administration currently in place in the West Bank. As established by the 1995 Oslo II Accord, there are three designations for territories within the West Bank:

Area A – comprises 18% of the West Bank; includes eight major Palestinian towns and their surrounding areas.  The Palestinian Authority has military and political control.  Israelis may not enter these areas. 

Area B – comprises 22% of the West Bank; includes smaller Palestinian villages.  In recent years, there have been some Israeli settlements as well.  The Israeli military and the Palestinian Authority share security control here.  The PA is in charge of administration and policing of the Arab population while Israel has jurisdiction over Jewish settlements.  

Area C – the remaining area, comprises 60% of the West Bank.  More sparsely populated with the majority of Israeli settlements. Israel has exclusive control in this area.  

It sounds simple enough, but if you look at a map, you’ll see a complicated picture, as towns designated Area A are not contiguous with each other.  The same is true for Area B towns and settlements.  In other words, the large Area C surrounds the clusters of Area A and Area B towns and settlements.  

How in the world did it get this way?  I was so intrigued that I decided to do a little research.  In brief, I learned that Jordan conquered East Jerusalem and the West Bank during the Arab-Israeli War that followed the end of the British Mandate.  In 1950, Jordan formally annexed the territory and granted the residents Jordanian citizenship.  However, most countries didn’t recognize the Jordanian annexation as legal. 

East Jerusalem and the West Bank remained part of Jordan until Israel wrested control of them in the 1967 war.  Israel never formally annexed the West Bank.  In 1988, the King of Jordan relinquished his country’s claim to the West Bank, recognized the PLO as the representative of the Palestinians, and endorsed the creation of a separate Palestinian state.  After several unsuccessful attempts at negotiating a settlement, Israel and the PLO signed the Oslo I Accord in 1993 and the Oslo II Accord in 1995, setting up the system that remains in place in the West Bank today. 

As we approached Jerusalem, we quickly started gaining altitude, reaching nearly 3000 feet above sea level as we crossed the mountains just north of the city.  Traffic was heavy on Route 1, the major road linking Jerusalem to Tel Aviv.  Fortunately, it was still daylight when we reached our hotel, located just off Dizengoff Square (which is really a circle).  

The first thing I wanted to do after I dropped off my bag was to get a view of the sea before the sun set. Something indescribable was pulling me towards the Mediterranean.  As I stood looking out at the darkening blue waters, I had a deep sense of returning home. Was it the people who looked like me, or the signs everywhere in the familiar Hebrew alphabet?  It was actually more than that.  It was the realization that if I looked out far enough into the distance, I’d see the familiar shoreline of the French Riviera, taking me back to my life in France with Elliott.  He always spoke about his desire to visit Israel.  We talked about it for years, but kept postponing making travel plans because of his concerns about safety and security.  So it was finally up to me to make the trip for him. 

On the shore of the Mediterranean in Tel Aviv 

Sunset over the Mediterranean in Tel Aviv