For some time now, I've had an itch to flee the busy streets of New York City. When I finally got the chance to do so, I visited family and friends in Israel, where the memories of my trip––from the sweltering Negev desert to the lush greenery of the Golan Heights––are all steeped in the land's beauty.
In southern Israel, I spent long, hot days hiking up Mt. Zephachot and Mt. Masada. I took respite from the dry terrain in the Red Sea and the jade-colored Dead Sea, where I experienced the joy of being completely weightless. As I made my way north, I spent a day strolling through Tzfat, the capital of Jewish mysticism, where every corner I turned seemed to contain some kind of magic. I saw blue everywhere; even the yellow stones of buildings were tinged blue. The doors, gates, signs, pipes, window panes, balconies, railings––everything.
In Tel Aviv, I relished the sunshine and the beaches. The food was exceptional (shakshuka and hummus were always on order) and the skyline a Bauhaus architect's dream. I did some shopping at the local artist market in NaHalat BenYamine, which was filled with odd tchotchkes, paintings, jewelry, and Judaica gifts. It was here, on King George and Allenby street, where I reunited with OC alum Nira for a night of drinks and smiles. The old city of Jafa, situated on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, is my my favorite part of Tel Aviv: art galleries and shops inhabit its weathered stone buildings, adorned with bright colored doors and courtyards filled with potted plants. But a trip to Israel is not complete without visiting the white city of Jerusalem. I arrived on Shabbat and walked through the deserted streets all evening. The following day, I enjoyed too many delectable treats at the MaHane Yehuda market.
During my last week, I decided to go to the ancient city of Petra with some new friends I'd met on my trip. We crossed the border on foot into Jordan and arranged for a driver to pick us up in Aqaba. We made our way through the barren mountain ranges, occasionally stopping for goat herders to move their flocks across the highway. Our first destination was the Wadi Rum, Jordan's largest valley, cut into sandstone and granite rock. We had a local Bedouin guide who drove an old Toyota pick-up topped with a makeshift canopy, made from a raggedy Mickey Mouse blanket. We toured for several hours watching wild dogs and camels run by as we clung tightly to the truck. The valley was breathtaking; filled with rust colored sand dunes and giant red rock formations that looked like melted dripping wax. We also experienced some Bedouin hospitality (an offering of coffee, sweet tea, and perfume).
The next day, we took off to Petra. I walked through ancient theaters, tombs, homes, and places of sacrifice. Every few feet, there was something new to discover carved deep into the rock. I could have wandered the ruins for days and certainly gotten lost (I almost did a few times). But I only got to play Indiana Jones for so long before I had to make my way back to Israel and finally, back to New York.![]()
Bell tower of St. Peter's Church, Jaffa, Israel
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Old Jaffa, Israel
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In southern Israel, I spent long, hot days hiking up Mt. Zephachot and Mt. Masada. I took respite from the dry terrain in the Red Sea and the jade-colored Dead Sea, where I experienced the joy of being completely weightless. As I made my way north, I spent a day strolling through Tzfat, the capital of Jewish mysticism, where every corner I turned seemed to contain some kind of magic. I saw blue everywhere; even the yellow stones of buildings were tinged blue. The doors, gates, signs, pipes, window panes, balconies, railings––everything.
In Tel Aviv, I relished the sunshine and the beaches. The food was exceptional (shakshuka and hummus were always on order) and the skyline a Bauhaus architect's dream. I did some shopping at the local artist market in NaHalat BenYamine, which was filled with odd tchotchkes, paintings, jewelry, and Judaica gifts. It was here, on King George and Allenby street, where I reunited with OC alum Nira for a night of drinks and smiles. The old city of Jafa, situated on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, is my my favorite part of Tel Aviv: art galleries and shops inhabit its weathered stone buildings, adorned with bright colored doors and courtyards filled with potted plants. But a trip to Israel is not complete without visiting the white city of Jerusalem. I arrived on Shabbat and walked through the deserted streets all evening. The following day, I enjoyed too many delectable treats at the MaHane Yehuda market.
During my last week, I decided to go to the ancient city of Petra with some new friends I'd met on my trip. We crossed the border on foot into Jordan and arranged for a driver to pick us up in Aqaba. We made our way through the barren mountain ranges, occasionally stopping for goat herders to move their flocks across the highway. Our first destination was the Wadi Rum, Jordan's largest valley, cut into sandstone and granite rock. We had a local Bedouin guide who drove an old Toyota pick-up topped with a makeshift canopy, made from a raggedy Mickey Mouse blanket. We toured for several hours watching wild dogs and camels run by as we clung tightly to the truck. The valley was breathtaking; filled with rust colored sand dunes and giant red rock formations that looked like melted dripping wax. We also experienced some Bedouin hospitality (an offering of coffee, sweet tea, and perfume).
The next day, we took off to Petra. I walked through ancient theaters, tombs, homes, and places of sacrifice. Every few feet, there was something new to discover carved deep into the rock. I could have wandered the ruins for days and certainly gotten lost (I almost did a few times). But I only got to play Indiana Jones for so long before I had to make my way back to Israel and finally, back to New York.
Bell tower of St. Peter's Church, Jaffa, Israel
Old Jaffa, Israel
