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Continued from here.
Day 9: Upper Galilee.
Next day, we—you guessed it!—got up early and drove up a mountain. On the way, snapped this picture as a representation of how most signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English.

This particular mountain, Mt. Adir, presented a view into Lebanon. The winding white road in the distance is the border itself. Off to the right is the area where, during the second Lebanon war (if I recall correctly), the two soldiers were kidnapped whose bodies were recently traded back to Israel by Hezbollah. See also:
roga's LJ for discussion of said deal.

Walking back down from the viewpoint to the bus.

Next up, the mystical city of Tzvat/Safed, a mecca for Kabbalah… practitioners? scholars? followers? and numerous artisans. This place really reminded me of Malta, the buildings made of pale, smooth stone, interrupted with palm trees and clotheslines, blue trim on railings and windows and rooftops and in mortar cracks, the whole place hanging off the side of a mountain so steep that staircases lead from one street to another.

They took us first to a Kabbalah artist's shop. That was a bit too wacky for me: lots of mumbo-jumbo talk about the hidden meanings of the letter aleph and seven life point chakra things on the body and feeling one with the universe. The artist gave us a lecture he called Kabbalah 101, which seemed to say absolutely nothing; when I mentioned as much to another participant, he said it takes years and years of study before you really understand what Kabbalah is about. I am still giving it the benefit of the doubt; most of what I know about it came from this hippie guy, trashy articles about Madonna and Jeff Goldblum, and the unfortunate portrayal in the movie Pi.
Then a candle factory, which sounded on the itinerary like little more than an attempt to get us to buy stuff to support the Israeli economy, and fulfilled its destiny, except that it did have some pretty nice hand-made candles. There was one masterpiece under a glass case of David holding up the severed head of Goliath (pic from another participant), complete with bloody neck stump. The rest were mostly holiday candles, small animals and books, and one special display of Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 brooms. Would've taken a picture if that hadn't been prohibited.
Last stop before lunch, a small, old synagogue with some beautiful decorations, including this (blurry, sorry) carved and painted wooden ark imported from Spain a few hundred years ago:

A side street in Tzvat/Safed.

We were then allowed some free time to grab falafels or shawarmas (people could not shut up about falafel and shawarma the whole time we were in Israel, omg) or what-have-you for lunch, and go wandering through the main market street for whatever souvenirs people wanted—though nobody was really sure what to get or wait for, since we hadn't been to Tel Aviv or the famed markets of Jerusalem.

(The street was more crowded than that, but it's the best shot I can offer of what it looked like.)
…Oh, that's what we did after the Syria overlook the day before: rafting and hiking. I can never remember which day the pizza/kayak/hike was crammed into. That was down in the Hula Valley I posted pictures of yesterday, on a tributary of the Jordan River and then on the river itself, or rather, what Assaf knew we Americans would call a stream, heh. Whew, what an afternoon. Hot and wet (and not in the fun, ficcy way) and action-packed. Downed, like, two of the 1.5-liter water bottles they were giving out daily. And I hardly drink water normally. When it's that hot and you're that active, there's no choice if you want to stay conscious and not throw up.
No photos of the kayak trip because my camera isn't waterproof, and it's a good thing I didn't try, because within seconds of launching, my trip friend-cum-kayak buddy and I were soaked to the skin. Good times, though, especially after I politely (I hope!) suggested that she enjoy the ride and take pictures with her waterproof disposable camera while I powered and steered us along, between and past the splashers, since she'd never rafted before and couldn't keep her directions straight.
Hardly any photos of the hike afterwards because we were already tired and then had to speed down and up the endless stairs because the park was closing or there was another group scheduled after us or something, and all time and energy was spent climbing and watching where I put my feet. Have these—a former British police station at the top of the trail from when the English were still in charge of Palestine, and a view before the descent:


And then, on the day we were talking about before the tangent, although I suspect the previous two photos were from Day 9 since that's the order they uploaded from the camera, but I am confused so let's move on, we trekked to a town called Peki'in, another mountainside town with stone and blue trim. Also grape leaves on the roofs, Mickey Mouse graffiti, adorable children, a central square with a watering hole (pic), and a lot of garbage on the streets.
This photo makes it look a lot like Safed, but it did have quite a different feel.

In Peki'in, Jews have lived for many years alongside a people called the Druze (aw, they rhyme), whose ancestry is Arabic and whose religion derives from Islam and several other traditions, including maybe Judaism? It's hard to remember and hard to know in the first place, since the Druze religion is mysterious as it is hidden from outsiders as well as from any Druze who are not male and/or who do not choose to be initiated when they come of age.
The Jewish population in the town has dwindled over time until it was just one family, and now it is just one small, aging woman. I know she is small and aging because she walked up to us while we were standing in front of Peki'in's ancient synagogue, Beit Knesset; she spoke briefly with Assaf and unlocked the place so we could go inside. I don't know if that was prearranged or an amazing coincidence.
Beit Knesset:

The last remaining Jew in Peki'in:

Ancient artifacts inside the temple, some of which may date back to the original temple that was built 3,000 years ago:

Before the temple, we stopped by a crevice in a rock that has apparently earned a promotion to the status of "cave," namely the Cave of Rashbi, where a guy—er, rabbi—called Shimon bar Yochi hid for many years with his son (I have no idea how two people could fit in that crevice/cave, let alone live there, but okay) and invented the central text of Kabbalah while subsisting on carob beans. I was amused.
Nearing sunset, we reached a Druze restaurant for dinner. Most Taglit-Birthright groups, I believe, have a feast-dinner in a Bedouin tent further south, in the desert, and many camp out in their tents overnight. We did not—perhaps a summertime or geographic/scheduling decision, perhaps another reason—but the Druze restaurant was probably the cultural-diversity substitute. To be honest, I was not very impressed, but a lot of people enjoyed themselves. Every last inch of the place was covered in decorations that I would call kitsch but others might call interesting; the food (hummous and pita, pickles, lamb meatloaf things, chicken kebabs, salsa-like condiments, the ubiquitous tomato and cucumber salad) was tasty, but not phenomenal; and afterwards, we sat with uber-sweet tea for a lecture by the owner, a little bit about the Druze and a lottle bit [sic] about the products they make, such as the tea we were all drinking (cures everything!), as well as the shelves and shelves of unlabeled jars by the entrance. I teased the people who bought tea, because it looked like they were trying to smuggle marijuana in plain sight.
Day 10: Lower Galilee, Akko, soldiers, Haifa and Tel Aviv. (Yeah, I know.) With cameo by roga!
Day 10 we—all together now—got up early and drove to a mountain! This time with our suitcases on the bus, because we were Heading South for the rest of the trip.
On the way to our first stop at Mountain/Cave #1, we passed this aqueduct, which I thought our guide said was Roman, but I later read somewhere may have been Turkish:

And then, the mountain, atop which we found Cave #1. After a little orientation lecture, Assaf directed us to walk down a path along the mountain and not to stray either left or right, very important, left and we could die ("That sounds very familiar," someone quipped, referring to the camp selections during the war), please watch where he walked and follow him precisely, etc.
Didn't see quite what the trouble was, other than there was no railing beside the sheer cliff face. Very pretty view.

Turns out he was right to be cautious, because when we turned the corner, we saw what we'd been walking on.

Thus commenced the unending pretty part of the trip. Not that the Golan/Galilee regions weren't lovely, but we had spent several days looking at the same sights, and it was great to see something new—and something blue. Namely, the Mediterranean, at Cave #2, Rosh Hanikra.

Formerly accessible only by sea, the grotto can now be reached by land, thanks to blasting done by the British when they were trying to build railway lines to get supplies through. By land, and specifically by cable car.

Down and down and down, to the base of the chalk cliffs in which the grotto lies.

'Twas a pretty grotto.

Annnnnnnd then we drove to Akko/Acre, a lovely Mediterranean/Middle Eastern-looking city with a long and varied history of having been captured by different civilizations looking for a seaside stronghold. That included the Crusaders, specifically the Knights Hospitaler, whose arched fortress we toured after lunch. But here is a picture from the parking lot of a beautiful green-topped mosque.

The market had a pungent mixture of fish, falafel, hummous, baklava and other pastries, olives, spices, cheeses, fruits and vegetables (I tried my first date there—delicious), mixed with stalls selling stuff like cheap plastic toys, heavy silver menorahs and bootlegged DVDs.


I don't remember much about the fortress or the British political prison for Israeli freedom fighters that was built on top of it,* since once again it was very hot, but apparently I took these pictures.

* This sort of thing seems to happen a lot in Israel, one era's buildings being buried, forgotten, and built over. The word "Tel" in Tel Aviv, Assaf told us, refers to this vertical layering of settlements over time.
Inside the Refectorium in the fortress:

At the end of the trip to Akko, we picked up our Israeli Peer SoldiersTM, who are Just Like Us! Hee. Maybe that was a revelation for people who do not already have LJ pen pals. Anyway, we mingled on the bus until we reached Haifa. Haifa seemed nice, from the ten minutes' experience we had there when we stopped at the Baha'i shrine and gardens and looked out at the part of the city spread beneath us.

The shrine is one of the holiest sites for members of the Baha'i religion, and yet apparently Baha'i aren't allowed to live in Israel for more than three months at a time? Which must be strange.
Some flowers across the street from the lookout.

And then we drove to Tel Aviv, checked into our (roach- and mosquito-inhabited, unfortunately) guest house, had dinner, dressed up and went out for a few hours of free time at the bars, clubs and outdoor cafés of the Port, appropriately located mere feet away from the sea. At which point I met up with
roga for the night, which was great! I successfully disengaged from the group and snuck away with her for some conversation that felt amazingly comfortable considering we'd only ever corresponded online before. We ended up having some delicious chocolate fondue and roasted marshmallows at Max Brenner, talking about the trip so far and Stargate and her adventures participating in a film project and other stuff I can't remember, and between the 'mallows and some random fireworks nearby, we ended up having an impromptu Night Before July 4th celebration too. At our curfew she walked back with the group to the hostel and then went home; a few people were curious about who she was and how we'd met, and one or two even thought we were cousins, because we look a little alike. Overall lovely time, and I was thereafter even more psyched to be able to spend some time with her when the official trip was over.
Next part
Day 9: Upper Galilee.
Next day, we—you guessed it!—got up early and drove up a mountain. On the way, snapped this picture as a representation of how most signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English.

This particular mountain, Mt. Adir, presented a view into Lebanon. The winding white road in the distance is the border itself. Off to the right is the area where, during the second Lebanon war (if I recall correctly), the two soldiers were kidnapped whose bodies were recently traded back to Israel by Hezbollah. See also:
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Walking back down from the viewpoint to the bus.

Next up, the mystical city of Tzvat/Safed, a mecca for Kabbalah… practitioners? scholars? followers? and numerous artisans. This place really reminded me of Malta, the buildings made of pale, smooth stone, interrupted with palm trees and clotheslines, blue trim on railings and windows and rooftops and in mortar cracks, the whole place hanging off the side of a mountain so steep that staircases lead from one street to another.

They took us first to a Kabbalah artist's shop. That was a bit too wacky for me: lots of mumbo-jumbo talk about the hidden meanings of the letter aleph and seven life point chakra things on the body and feeling one with the universe. The artist gave us a lecture he called Kabbalah 101, which seemed to say absolutely nothing; when I mentioned as much to another participant, he said it takes years and years of study before you really understand what Kabbalah is about. I am still giving it the benefit of the doubt; most of what I know about it came from this hippie guy, trashy articles about Madonna and Jeff Goldblum, and the unfortunate portrayal in the movie Pi.
Then a candle factory, which sounded on the itinerary like little more than an attempt to get us to buy stuff to support the Israeli economy, and fulfilled its destiny, except that it did have some pretty nice hand-made candles. There was one masterpiece under a glass case of David holding up the severed head of Goliath (pic from another participant), complete with bloody neck stump. The rest were mostly holiday candles, small animals and books, and one special display of Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 brooms. Would've taken a picture if that hadn't been prohibited.
Last stop before lunch, a small, old synagogue with some beautiful decorations, including this (blurry, sorry) carved and painted wooden ark imported from Spain a few hundred years ago:

A side street in Tzvat/Safed.

We were then allowed some free time to grab falafels or shawarmas (people could not shut up about falafel and shawarma the whole time we were in Israel, omg) or what-have-you for lunch, and go wandering through the main market street for whatever souvenirs people wanted—though nobody was really sure what to get or wait for, since we hadn't been to Tel Aviv or the famed markets of Jerusalem.

(The street was more crowded than that, but it's the best shot I can offer of what it looked like.)
…Oh, that's what we did after the Syria overlook the day before: rafting and hiking. I can never remember which day the pizza/kayak/hike was crammed into. That was down in the Hula Valley I posted pictures of yesterday, on a tributary of the Jordan River and then on the river itself, or rather, what Assaf knew we Americans would call a stream, heh. Whew, what an afternoon. Hot and wet (and not in the fun, ficcy way) and action-packed. Downed, like, two of the 1.5-liter water bottles they were giving out daily. And I hardly drink water normally. When it's that hot and you're that active, there's no choice if you want to stay conscious and not throw up.
No photos of the kayak trip because my camera isn't waterproof, and it's a good thing I didn't try, because within seconds of launching, my trip friend-cum-kayak buddy and I were soaked to the skin. Good times, though, especially after I politely (I hope!) suggested that she enjoy the ride and take pictures with her waterproof disposable camera while I powered and steered us along, between and past the splashers, since she'd never rafted before and couldn't keep her directions straight.
Hardly any photos of the hike afterwards because we were already tired and then had to speed down and up the endless stairs because the park was closing or there was another group scheduled after us or something, and all time and energy was spent climbing and watching where I put my feet. Have these—a former British police station at the top of the trail from when the English were still in charge of Palestine, and a view before the descent:


And then, on the day we were talking about before the tangent, although I suspect the previous two photos were from Day 9 since that's the order they uploaded from the camera, but I am confused so let's move on, we trekked to a town called Peki'in, another mountainside town with stone and blue trim. Also grape leaves on the roofs, Mickey Mouse graffiti, adorable children, a central square with a watering hole (pic), and a lot of garbage on the streets.
This photo makes it look a lot like Safed, but it did have quite a different feel.

In Peki'in, Jews have lived for many years alongside a people called the Druze (aw, they rhyme), whose ancestry is Arabic and whose religion derives from Islam and several other traditions, including maybe Judaism? It's hard to remember and hard to know in the first place, since the Druze religion is mysterious as it is hidden from outsiders as well as from any Druze who are not male and/or who do not choose to be initiated when they come of age.
The Jewish population in the town has dwindled over time until it was just one family, and now it is just one small, aging woman. I know she is small and aging because she walked up to us while we were standing in front of Peki'in's ancient synagogue, Beit Knesset; she spoke briefly with Assaf and unlocked the place so we could go inside. I don't know if that was prearranged or an amazing coincidence.
Beit Knesset:

The last remaining Jew in Peki'in:

Ancient artifacts inside the temple, some of which may date back to the original temple that was built 3,000 years ago:

Before the temple, we stopped by a crevice in a rock that has apparently earned a promotion to the status of "cave," namely the Cave of Rashbi, where a guy—er, rabbi—called Shimon bar Yochi hid for many years with his son (I have no idea how two people could fit in that crevice/cave, let alone live there, but okay) and invented the central text of Kabbalah while subsisting on carob beans. I was amused.
Nearing sunset, we reached a Druze restaurant for dinner. Most Taglit-Birthright groups, I believe, have a feast-dinner in a Bedouin tent further south, in the desert, and many camp out in their tents overnight. We did not—perhaps a summertime or geographic/scheduling decision, perhaps another reason—but the Druze restaurant was probably the cultural-diversity substitute. To be honest, I was not very impressed, but a lot of people enjoyed themselves. Every last inch of the place was covered in decorations that I would call kitsch but others might call interesting; the food (hummous and pita, pickles, lamb meatloaf things, chicken kebabs, salsa-like condiments, the ubiquitous tomato and cucumber salad) was tasty, but not phenomenal; and afterwards, we sat with uber-sweet tea for a lecture by the owner, a little bit about the Druze and a lottle bit [sic] about the products they make, such as the tea we were all drinking (cures everything!), as well as the shelves and shelves of unlabeled jars by the entrance. I teased the people who bought tea, because it looked like they were trying to smuggle marijuana in plain sight.
Day 10: Lower Galilee, Akko, soldiers, Haifa and Tel Aviv. (Yeah, I know.) With cameo by roga!
Day 10 we—all together now—got up early and drove to a mountain! This time with our suitcases on the bus, because we were Heading South for the rest of the trip.
On the way to our first stop at Mountain/Cave #1, we passed this aqueduct, which I thought our guide said was Roman, but I later read somewhere may have been Turkish:

And then, the mountain, atop which we found Cave #1. After a little orientation lecture, Assaf directed us to walk down a path along the mountain and not to stray either left or right, very important, left and we could die ("That sounds very familiar," someone quipped, referring to the camp selections during the war), please watch where he walked and follow him precisely, etc.
Didn't see quite what the trouble was, other than there was no railing beside the sheer cliff face. Very pretty view.

Turns out he was right to be cautious, because when we turned the corner, we saw what we'd been walking on.

Thus commenced the unending pretty part of the trip. Not that the Golan/Galilee regions weren't lovely, but we had spent several days looking at the same sights, and it was great to see something new—and something blue. Namely, the Mediterranean, at Cave #2, Rosh Hanikra.

Formerly accessible only by sea, the grotto can now be reached by land, thanks to blasting done by the British when they were trying to build railway lines to get supplies through. By land, and specifically by cable car.

Down and down and down, to the base of the chalk cliffs in which the grotto lies.

'Twas a pretty grotto.

Annnnnnnd then we drove to Akko/Acre, a lovely Mediterranean/Middle Eastern-looking city with a long and varied history of having been captured by different civilizations looking for a seaside stronghold. That included the Crusaders, specifically the Knights Hospitaler, whose arched fortress we toured after lunch. But here is a picture from the parking lot of a beautiful green-topped mosque.

The market had a pungent mixture of fish, falafel, hummous, baklava and other pastries, olives, spices, cheeses, fruits and vegetables (I tried my first date there—delicious), mixed with stalls selling stuff like cheap plastic toys, heavy silver menorahs and bootlegged DVDs.


I don't remember much about the fortress or the British political prison for Israeli freedom fighters that was built on top of it,* since once again it was very hot, but apparently I took these pictures.

* This sort of thing seems to happen a lot in Israel, one era's buildings being buried, forgotten, and built over. The word "Tel" in Tel Aviv, Assaf told us, refers to this vertical layering of settlements over time.
Inside the Refectorium in the fortress:

At the end of the trip to Akko, we picked up our Israeli Peer SoldiersTM, who are Just Like Us! Hee. Maybe that was a revelation for people who do not already have LJ pen pals. Anyway, we mingled on the bus until we reached Haifa. Haifa seemed nice, from the ten minutes' experience we had there when we stopped at the Baha'i shrine and gardens and looked out at the part of the city spread beneath us.

The shrine is one of the holiest sites for members of the Baha'i religion, and yet apparently Baha'i aren't allowed to live in Israel for more than three months at a time? Which must be strange.
Some flowers across the street from the lookout.

And then we drove to Tel Aviv, checked into our (roach- and mosquito-inhabited, unfortunately) guest house, had dinner, dressed up and went out for a few hours of free time at the bars, clubs and outdoor cafés of the Port, appropriately located mere feet away from the sea. At which point I met up with
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