Lows and Highs

It was going to be an emotional day, we all knew it. The first stop: Yad Vashem (יד ושם), Israel's national holocaust memorial. We all filed into a large auditorium where an elderly woman sat facing us in front of a dozen microphones.

She introduced herself and told us the story of her childhood. She was born in a small village in Poland in the late 1920s. When she was 8-years-old the Nazis placed her and her family in a ghetto, then moved her, her mother and sister to a concentration camp. She was sorted into a separate line but jumped the barrier to be with her family. Later she found out the line she was placed in was for the gas chambers.

As the allies moved closer to the camp the SS officers in charge ordered a death march. Exhausted, she and her family fell into a ditch and lay motionless. The officers assumed they had died and the march carried on as usual. An American scout found them, gave the food and water, and brought them to his headquarters where they joined other liberated concentration camp survivors.

She spoke with a steady tone, almost monotonous like she was reading off a script. But I can only imagine the hardness one must force upon themself to recount that horror over and over again. We asked our questions which she answered as best she could. That by the end it was more about surviving so you could help keep others alive, that the only will they had to live was for each other.

We carried on through the museum, seeing the horrors that we had all seen in movies and museums before. Letters written during the war, photos and videos of the ghettos and camps. It was strange, like it's something I'd seen so many times I'd become numb to it. But when we reached the end, I wasn't prepared for what came. My sister had warned me how powerful the hall of names was, the room filled with names of Jewish holocaust victims but when I entered it was something completely different than I'd expected.

We walked through a small halway and emerged in a circular room. When I entered I was surround by thick, black books on every shelf. As far up as I could see, these book lined the walls, with no space between them. As I looked around I noticed a large portion of the shelves were empty, for the 1.8 million names still lost in the war. 4.2 million pages, stuffed into black binders was more enormous, and more powerful than I could have imagined.

We broke for lunch, it was a quiet atmosphere at first but we slowly began to speak more and more leaving Yad Vashem behind us. I felt almost back to normal but there was some residual emotion left over from the museum.

Up to Mt. Herzl, the Israeli war cemetery, it was what I expected. Graves of Israeli politicians, who we all knew were long dead, did nothing to rile my emotions again. We came to the soldiers' section, thousands of graves in neat rows. But it was what we'd all seen before, in person or in movies, what we'd all become calloused to. I stared at the endless rows of graves, my eyes fixed on those in the distance, feeling nothing for the soldiers that I didn't and would never know.

We stopped at one grave, of no one in particular, and Eilam translated the simple writings on his tombstone: Reuben Cohen - Air Force - Killed 16 November 1967 - Aged 16. Eilam had us imagine the things that Reuben would never be because of his service to Israel: get married, have children, graduate high school. This last one resonated with me, not because it personified his youth, but because it was something I had experienced, something all of us on birthright had experienced. It was a simple thing that we all take for granted, that people have sacrificed so we can have the privilege of experiencing it. I realized that we could play this game with every soldier in the graveyard, and every name in the books lining the shelves of Yad Vashem. And the realization of millions of unnatural deaths, all at once was too much for me. I pulled my sunglasses from my head and put them over my eyes. And I wept silently to myself. And that was our morning, stories of soldiers and civilians killed in war.

The evening schedule seemed poorly planned to me. Our night out on Ben Yehuda street, Jerusalem's entertainment district, was something I thought should be done after a relaxing day of floating in the Dead Sea, or hiking through the forest. But it was the right choice. Not only was this night our last with the soldiers but we were able to drown our sorrows the most efficient way. I can't speak much about our night (partially because none of us have a complete recollection of the events) but there are plenty of photos documenting the event. I do remember it being a fantastic time, and a great send off to the soldiers.

The Desert

I wake up early, hours before breakfast. I grab my sleeping bag and makeshift pillow and toss them into the tent. The sun is about to peek over the mountains as I walk from the camp to the outskirts of the Bedouin village. I find an open space and sit down on a rock, facing east. I wait patiently for a few minutes before the sky ignites in yellow and orange. I watch as the sun climbs over the mountains illuminating the desert.

When the sky turns fully blue I head back to camp. I watch as the Bedouins guide the camels around, readying them for another day of tourists. They release the donkeys into the camp and they stampede around the stable and past our tents. I get some breakfast, heavy on the Bedouin tea, and sit near the stables as, one by one, my companions groggily emerge from the tent.

When everyone's up and had their fill of breakfast we board the bus. I stare longingly back at the camp until it's out of sight before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

When I awaken a lone red hill stands before us, isolated from the mountains behind us. From the base, squinting through the sunlight, I catch a glimpse of Masada, site of the mass Jewish suicide to avoid capture by the Romans. We start our ascent and I dart up the mountin in ten minutes flat. I towards the sun and gaze east. In the distance I glimpse the Dead Sea and imagine Herod staring the same way over 2000 years ago.

I rejoin the rest of the group and we tour the ruins, learning of the symbolism the fortress has in Israeli culture. I talk to the soldiers about being sworn in at the peak and they all describe the obligation they felt here to defend Israel. We descend the snake path, one hour down in desert heat.

After a quick rehydration break we drive to the Dead Sea. I imagine how refreshing a dip in cool water will be after our sweaty morning. I'm one of the first in the water. I immediately feel a sharp pain in my heel. The blister I'd developed hiking is feeling the theraputic powers of the mineral-rich water. I wonder what other cuts I'll discover as I wade in up to my waist. The water is warm and slimy, not what I expected. Nevertheless, I take the plunge and sit down. It's like nothing I'd ever experienced before. You can't help but float, and it takes effort to move your legs. Eyes closed it's impossible to tell you're in water.

I get out, rinse off and head to the mud pit. We all coat ourselves in slime and let ourselves cook in the sun. Thoroughly exfoliated, we run back into the slimy water. My cuts don't hurt nearly as much now, I guess this stuff really works. A quick dip in the pool and it's back on the bus.

Our last stop is quick. We walk through Ein Gedi until we reach three magnificent waterfalls. Finally a real chance to cool off. Everybody goes exploring or is still slowly changing as I throw my head under the first waterfall I can reach. The cool blast of water pouring from I head is euphoric, and I hold myself there for what feels like an hour. I wander down some rocks and find a small crevice where I rest and let four tiny rivulets pour down on me from overhead. I close my eyes and let time slip away until I hear the call to go.

We talk and sing on the bus until Eilam calls for silence. He starts a countdown as we enter a tunnel and I'm excited for what awaits us at one. The countdown ends and we emerge into the sunlight. On my left I see the what looks like the whole city of Jerusalem. I'm too excited nd too tired to think of searching for the holy sites and I just take in what parts I see.

My long day has exhausted me and with the help of some arak I sleep through the night.

Hebrew word of the day, salt: מלח (me-lach)

Mifgash

Wake up, check out, load the bus, board the bus, drive. We've gotten good at this routine. Our first stop today is an elementary school. I duck under a doorway clearly made for the second graders we're here to see and take a seat on the floor. The principal explains our activity or the morning: decorate the wrapping paper for care packages en route to IDF soldiers. She opens the door we had just enter through and in flood hoards of children. The first one through slides half the length of the floor to settle beside Jon and me.

Our brown wrapping paper is immediately filled with Magen Davids, and a landscape of flowers, maple leaves and airplanes. We slap stickers over the paper and I draw a 3x3 grid in a corner and add an "X" to the center square. One of the kids nearby immediately adds his own "O" to the corner. After an intense battle I lose the match and my opponent graciously accepts my high-five.

A couple games later and recess is called. The kids grab a beaten, foam ball and pick teams for an all-out soccer match. We quickly lose track of the score and enjoy running around, none of us acting our age.

Before recess ends I find one of my drawing partners and raise him up onto my shoulders. He's excited by the vantage point and giggles happily as I run him around the schoolyard. I put him down and another boy jumps on my back. I run him around and when I reach the starting point I notice. Line has formed. I take each one around in turn, all of them loving the experience. As I'm heading for the gate I feel a lat tug on my shirt and look down to see the first child hoping to get another turn. I oblige and run around another lap. When I crouch down to let him off he refuses to let go. Unable to resist his happy grin I run him around another lap. And another.

We continue like this until I'm on the verge of collapsing. His teacher comes to the rescue and pulls him inside. One last high-five and I board the bus. The kids had exhausted me and I fall right asleep.

I wake up as we pull into Rabin Square. We can see the eight soldiers that will soon be a part of our group waiting for us on the benches. When the bus stops everybody rushes to greet them. We play our ice breakers, get a lesson on the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, relive the birth of Israel at Independene Hall and head to lunch at the Carmel Market.

One satisfying falafel later and we drive south for several hours. As usual, I sleep through most of the drive and wake up to find the landscape drastically different from the one we left. The palm trees are replaced ith mountains and the grass with red sand as we go through the heart of the Negev Desert. We drive off road and reach our Bedouin Camp.

We're led to an area where two women are handing out tea and coffee. I take a cup of each and take a big gulp of the tea. Its sweetness surprises me but I love it and down the cup quickly. Moving onto the coffee, I drink about half the cup before I realize there's nothing but grinds left. These Beouins like their coffee strong!

Just outside the camp there are a group of camels and donkeys. I'm a little too slow as the last camel is taken just before I reach it. I hop on top of a donkey and let my feet dangle comically close to the ground. We ride out a couple hundred meters before the guide halts our rides and tells us to dismount. It's finally time. The camels have dropped onto their knees and I hop on top of the one in front. I feel a jolt as it raises to it legs and starts the walk back to camp. The camel's taller than I expected but I lie the ride nonetheless. We get back to camp and I slide off.

Dinner is a feast. We sit on the floor in groups of four as dish after dish is brought to us. Mounds of couscous and beef later we're all stuffed. We play games in our tent of 50 and sit around the fire. This is by far one of the best camping experiences I've ever had. One of the soldiers, Shaul, plays songs for us on guitar. He knows all our requests and I start shouting out tunes from the piano bar I love back in Toronto.

When the fire dies, everyone retires to the tent. I grab my sleeping bag and lie on a bench outside, staring at the stars. Their natural light makes me realize how far from my big city home I am. But I don't care. I think about how much I love it the exact moment I'm in and fall fast asleep until dawn.

Hebrew word of the day, happy: שםח (sa-may-ach)

Tzfat

We checked out of our kibbutz early. When I boarded the bus I didn't envy the girls. Dressed conservatively in long skirts and t-shirts I imagined how uncomfortable they must be in a bus sitting under the Israeli sun. We drove through the hills to Tzfat, one of Israel's four holy cities and center for the Kabbalah religion. We walked in pairs through the narrow, stone roads admiring the houses built into the mountainside.

Eilam led us to a small courtyard where he explained the history of Tzfat and the Kabbalah religion in detail.  As we were preparing to leave an orthodox man carrying a large, leather case joined us in the courtyard. After some rapid Hebrew with Eilam he introduced himself as one member of a trio that played music inspired from every country in the world. A second member joined him shortly after and they sat down and began to play for us. We were hypnotized by two songs showcasing a steel drum, a sitar and other instruments whose names I could not pronounce. After their show, with their wonderful tunes stuck in my head, I couldn't resist the lure of their CD. My first souvenir...

We carried on happily down the narrow streets until we reached a rather unimpressive building. We went inside and were given a view minutes to take in the view. The city and the mountains from the top of the building were breathtaking. We took in the thousands of years of history before us and headed inside for our next activity. Separating into groups, we were told to debate the decency of man. I played devil's advocate and argued that if a person is completely selfish and unsympathetic then they are unable to change. We took a quick break for lunch and wandered through another one of Israel's open-air markets.

Back in the bus we drove to our tour of the Galil Mountain Winery. The tour was rather mundane and we walked through lifelessly until we reached the exciting part: wine tasting. The process was explained to us: swirl the wine, sniff it, sip a little, drink the remainder. We followed this algorithm for several varieties. Swirl, sniff, sip, drink. It was amazing how drastically the taste of the wine changed from this, it was wonderful compared to the eight dollar bottles I drank back home.

Back at the hotel, right on the sea, we were given a small area to walk for our night out. Sitting on a patio next to the beach we had another night of our favourite group activity.

 Hebrew word of the day, wine: יין (yah-yeen)

Our First Shabbat

We have another full day ahead of us. The leisurely hike through the Banias Nature Reserve is intensified by our occasional lessons on the 1967 Israeli-Arab War. It's a hot day for hiking and the long stretches of trees offer us welcome protection from the sun. After an hour of hilly terrain we reach a patch of flat ground. I can hear the waterfall's roar intensify as we carry on through the woods. One more bend and we're there. It's an overwhelming site, we all take our pictures and line up for the group shot. Eilam and Asaf take their selfies and then snap a couple photos of us. It's a perfect backdrop.

The hike is over and thankfully all forty of us are still there. We visit the abandoned bunker at Mount Bental, built during the 1973 Yom Kippur War and site of one of the bloodiest and most miraculous Israeli victories in history. Our view into Syria is sobering. We all know that just below us people are still fighting and being killed. I question the price of peace and how it will be reached in the region.

The group heads into the bunker. Eilam leads the pack with a flashlight and Asaf looks our for stragglers with a headlamp at the rear. At some point we lose the rear of the group. But no problem, we still have light at the front. A hundred meters more and the tunnel goes pitch black. Eilam has gone ahead with a few people and a half dozen of us are left alone. Fortunately, there's only one path to follow but we trip over each other as our eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. We finally reach an opening and after a second of adjustment we see a gorgeous view directly into Syria. Interesting that forty years ago the landscape was so entirely different.

On to our last, and what turned out to be most enjoyable, stop of the day: rafting on the Jordan River. I hop in a raft with 5 others and we shoot down the ramp, crashing into the water. It's a relaxing ride as we listen to a few of David's more inappropriate stories. I have one of the two oars (actually a kayak paddle) but the raft is difficult to control, especially when I'm trying to avoid smacking my boat-mates with the paddle. We bump into rocks and push straight through weeds until we reach a small beach. Knowing we were the first ones into the water we beach ourselves and go for a swim. The water's refreshing and washes away the sweat from our hike that morning.

Back in the water, shouting "Shalom" to every Israeli we see on shore, we come across a man standing waist hike in the water wearing a vest matching ours. Through his broken English, and our horrendous Hebrew, we learn that he fell into the water and his friends, not knowing how to stop their boat, carried on. We pull him aboard and carry on down the river. He spots his friends in the distance and yells out for them to stop. We paddle hard and after a couple of bends we reach them. It's not the happy reunion we expected. He splashes water at them, angry for their betrayal and we join in. We blast them with the super soaker on board and paddle off before enemy can retaliate with splashes of their own.

More stories and crashing into branches and we near the end of the trail. We look behind us and spot group number two gaining ground on us. My competitive instincts kick in and I paddle furiously, keeping our boat steady and away from branches and rocks. We cross the finish line first (none of us mention our head start) and we hop aboard the bus that will take us back to the start. We're the only ones from our group aboard and we wait half an hour for the rest of our companions to arrive, eating ice cream and pears that we'd smuggled out of the kibbutz.

We make Shabbat preparations back at the kibbutz and I put on my one wrinkled dress shirt and jeans. Kabbalat Shabbat is similar to what I know from home and I join in the singing, very off key. We have another great meal and head over to the pub.

I have my first good night's sleep since the trip began. It's an easy day, we walk through the kibbutz and take a look into Lebanon and down into the Hula Valley. It's another hot day and people are feelings the affects of the night before. I pass my water around to a half dozen people and there are drops left when it's returned to me. I refill it and drink it all when I get back to my room.

A group of us organize a five on five basketball game. I'm playing center against Eilam and with his size and talent I feel lucky with every rebound or shot I get. At 191cm I hadn't felt short in quite a few years but that game made me look small.

Shabbat ends and it's back to the bar.

Hebrew word of the day, to sleep: לישון (la-shen)

Beach Beach

My alarm jolts me it of a sound, drunken sleep at 6:45. As usual, there's no hangover but I down a liter of water to be safe. I know I'm dehydrated and we have a hike today in the hot, Israeli sun. I walk over to the dining hall and help myself to eggs, bread and hummus. I make sure to grab a couple of the juicy kibbutz pears for later, it's going to be a long day.

We drive to Nahal Kziv and take in the view from the top of the mountain. The crusader's castle protrudes from the trees, looking oddly out of place amongst the greenery. I'm eager to climb down to the bottom, just so I can get back to the top. We go at a gentle pace and talk amongst each other, lamenting over the Leaf's game 1 loss last night.

We reach the bottom and stop at an unimpressive river, the Nahal Kziv. It looks more like a creek to me. Either way it gives us a chance to dip our heads and caps in the water. I feel magnificent as my soaked KNVB hat pours water on my head. I submerge my face in the river and come out wet and smiling. This is my idea of a vacation!

We cross the river, stepping on stones to keep our feet dry. Carrying on, we cross the river again. And again. And again. This is a poorly designed trail, but luckily my hiking boots keep my socks dry.  Finally it's time for what I've been waiting for, our ascent. We walk through the sun, taking shelter in any shade we can find. I offer water to people as I pass them by until I reach the front of the pack. I ask Eilam to teach me an Israeli hiking song. I don't know any of the words but I wiping them back to him as best I can. It's a wonderful tune, and brightens the hike.

When we finally reach the top I drink the last drops of now tepid water from my bottle and replenish my supply from the merchant at the top. I resist the urge for ice cream, the hike wasn't so bad. I take in the view, appreciating it more this time since I've now earned it. I sit under AC on the bus sipping ice cold water as the rest of the group reaches the summit and makes a beeline for the ice cream man. The swaying of the bus as it winds down the narrow mountain roads is soothing and I drift off to sleep.

We get to the beach in good time and the schedule allots us 2.5 hours to swim. I run for the dressing room, throw on my swim trunks and splash right into the Mediterranean. The water is colder than I expected but I hardly notice. We're all still covered in sweat and dirt from our hike and the salty sea feels like it washes everything away. We throw a frisbee, play soccer and splash each other. It feels great to completely unwind and wash away the strain of the hike.

Our time is up after what feels like a minute and we move on to our last stop of the day. The grottos are pools of bright blue water, created from dripping water and sea waves. It's easy to lose yourself in their hypnotic colour. We take the cable car back to the bus and drive to our next kibbutz.

The 7 shekel shots of arak are hard to resist and I wake up with the taste of licorice still in my mouth.

Hebrew word of the day, water: מים (ma-yeem)

Israel!

Is it day 1, or day 2? Who cares, I'm here! We do our first soundoff in Israel: "1, 2, 3", I shout out 4. "5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13." 14? Where's 14? Jeff grumpily checks his list. "Adam Edgerly?" No response. He's not in the bathroom either. Jeff pushes past the last of the flight crew leaving the plane to check the crew list. He comes back panting. "Adam wasn't on the plane," he whispers frantically to Tamar. We waste no time in imagining scenarios. By the time 5 minutes has passed we've agreed that Adam is either sitting in the terminal back in Toronto or en route to Kyrgyzstan on a cargo plane. The truth is much less exciting as Jeff and Adam walk back from customs. The drama subsides and we carry on.

 

Our group of 42 shuffles out of the airport and pulls off the long pants and sweatshirts we wore to combat the chilly Canadian spring. Won't be needing these for a while.

Just outside the airport I get my first taste of Israel. Palm trees and a bright sun invade my view. We line up for the first of many group photos and take our seats on the grass. I'm wide awake as our speaker introduces us to the country we've been looking forward to for months. I immediately lose any doubts I had about this trip, they won't try to convert me, I won't be asked to join the army. Taglit truly wants nothing more than to show every Jew their homeland. They want us all to have a better understanding of Israeli and Jewish culture.

We head to the bus and see a towering figure. Meet Eilam, our 2 meter (6 feet, 7 inches) tall, ex-pro basketball player, Goliath of a tour guide. He gives us a big smile and picks six of the boys for bag duty. Crap, at 191cm and 98kg I'm going to be doing this a lot. I help stuff 40 bags under the bus and climb aboard. Finally we're off!

I jump off the bus as soon as the doors swing open ready to see the sites and feel the wind off the Mediterranean. We toast with shehecheyanu and run through our ice breakers (sadly no one knew all the words to Gangnam Style) then take a quick stroll to Jaffa.

Before entering the city we stop to admire the small rocks jutting out of the water. Supposedly, these islands were created when Perseus killed the sea monster Cetus and won Andromeda's hand. The islands are all that remain of the monster. Strange that my first lesson in Israel is about Greek mythology.

Finally we enter the city. The stone roads are hazardous but nothing unmanageable. We climb to find the statue of Napolean, created after his sacking of the city. A few quick pictures and we're done. My eyes shut as soon as we reach the bus.

When I wake up we're surrounded by greenery, bumping down a narrow dirt path. Our bus driver Slava keeps a steady hand on the wheel and delivers us safely to our first kibbutz. A few team building exercises and the forty of us start the real group activities. We slam back 20 shekel beers and I drink my first of what is to be many shots of arak. This is going to be a fun trip.

Hebrew word of the day, welcome: ברוך הבא (baruch haba)

Let's Go!

Wallet, check. Passport, check. Maple syrup... crap! The three things essential for my trip and I've forgotten one. Bad start but no big deal, this just means an extra half hour with Matt and Stef. So back home, one last hug goodbye to the cats and I'm on my way to the airport.

I get in line and Jeff gives me the liquor policy form to sign for the umpteenth time. I skim it, sign my name and go up to the scary looking El Al security guard. I answer the standard questions and get to the one that I knew would be the most trouble: Where are you going from Israel?  "Jordan, Egypt, Greece and Turkey" I reply, getting giddy with excitement now that I've realized my vacation has finally arrived.

The big man in front if me doesn't look too happy with my reply. "Egypt and Jordan? Interesting choices... Why did you pick those?"

I do my best to hold back my exasperation. "Hiking, and I've heard the pyramids are beautiful and I don't know when I'll get a chance to be in the region again. So I had to seize the opportunity."

His suspicion turns to jealousy and I'm through, on the plane in my cushy economy class seat, and off to Israel. 11 hours later here I am!

Hebrew word of the day, adventure: הרפתקה (harpatka)