It all makes sense

Slept poorly waking up at 1 am with men singing on the street. I went out on the balcony of our hotel room and looked down on Haifa lit up, all glittery, and my bad mood blew away on the breeze. First stop was to the center of the Bahai faith surrounded by beautiful Persian style gardens. Lovely view until the woman in our tiny group asked (as she did about the Druse), but what are they? Isaac, the sometimes not so patient tour guide, said (as he did about the Druse), they are their own religiion. He sighed, I sighed.

Onto the highlight of the trip so far. We arrived in Safed (pronounced sfud), the home of the kabbalah. I had seen an Israeli movie on IFC a couple of weeks ago filmed in Safed and felt drawn to it. We visited an ancient synagogue and Isaac told us the story of the city. It is ancient and once was partially Arab, but after the 1948 war, most of the Arabs left. Safed is now home to many Hasidim and has a very gentle spirit about it. Built on a hill above the Galillee, it is made of lovely sand colored stone, with ancient steps connecting buildings. We had time by ourselves and visited another synagogue and spent time talking with the Hasidic man who was there. He moved to Safed from South Africa 14 years ago. He said his family and friends thought he was nuts. Nice man who was appreciative of our visit. Neither me or my traveling companion are shoppers, so it was odd that we were drawn to a gallery by the photographs. We spoke with the Hasidic guy who turned out to be the photographer. Yaacov Kaszemacher is a fine artist and photographer who made aliyah to Israel 30 years ago, first living in Jerusalem, but now in Safed for many years. I asked him where he lived earlier, and it turns out that he lived in the East Village in NYC at the same time I did, only 6 blocks apart. He did sound for rock shows at the 2nd Avenue theater and we talked about a vegetarian restaurant on St. Mark's Place and the shvitz (baths) that were just down the street. The owner of the restaurant, Moshe (I can't remember his last name just now), was kind of an East Village character, even in those heady days of lots of strange people living the Village in the 60s. Yaacov told me that Moshe now hangs out daily at the Kotel, the western wall in Jerusalem, but in the mens' section, so I couldn't approach him. Small world indeed. He spoke a little with me about his spiritual journey in Judaism and how so many of our generation (I think he's probably a little older than me) got lost in drugs, alcohol and chaos. We talked about how some of us made our way out and how we found ourselves despite the chaos. Great guy, but of course I couldn't hug him, or even shake his hand, since it is inappropriate in his beliefs. My traveling companion purchased a print of one of his photographs for me for my birthday. As we were leaving Safed, I felt this wave of sadness that my time there was so short. The beauty of the city, the people, and the spiritualism left me knowing I had been in a place like no other on our seemingly smaller planet.

On next to the Golan Heights. Syrian bunkers left over from the period when it was under Syrian control. There is now a DMZ protected by UN soldiers, but the tension is still obvious in the area. As Isaac was explaining the 1967 borders and how it came about, a light bulb went on over my head and I realize that as much as it seems easy to criticize Israel for their actions, I surely understand. With Syria funding Hezbollah in Lebanon, and chomping at the bit to move back into the Golan Heights, once I stood 1/2 mile from the Syrian border, I thought about how vulnerable the Israelis must feel. We, as Americans, need to support this country of optimistics, lovers, and caretakers of the dream that every Jew is born with.

We are now at Kibbutz Lavi, in a nice hotel the Kibbutz manages. Dinner soon and a lecture on the Kibbutz movement and then rest. Tomorrow Sea of Galillee, Nazareth, and finally Jerusalem, where we will spend 5 nights. Jerusalem tomorrow, but tonight I'll dream of Safed.