‘What are your reasons for visiting this country?’ demands a surly passport control officer at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion airport. The word journalist causes a raised eyebrow. She scans my face suspiciously as I request her not to stamp my passport, apprehensive about whether it might hinder my future movements.
‘Why?’ she demands, while simultaneously stamping it with a defiant expression on her face. I have just had my first encounter with a sabra. Hebrew for the prickly pears that grow locally, this slang word is a satirical description of the Israeli-born Jew, with their thorny exterior and soft inside. I move on quickly, as passport control seems an inappropriate location to get beneath the skin.
My destination is the Galilee, the site of Jesus’ ministry of 27 to 30AD and home to the greenest valleys, lushest forests and most fertile farmland in the state. Biblical names jump out from roadsigns in abundance; Nazareth, Tiberius, the Sea of Galilee – each inspiring me with a sense of historical awe. This was exclusively a destination for pilgrims and devout believers, but now its spectacular landscapes, adventure sports, natural spas and unparalleled wildlife have begun to attract the more adventurous eco tourist. Add to this the 300 days of sunshine per year, the numerous lakes, springs and spas and Mediterranean coastline and you begin to see the lure of the land.
The Galilee is situated in the north of the country on the border with Lebanon and enjoys relative stability in comparison to the south. That said, the 2006 conflict in Lebanon is still a very recent memory and the legacy of war is never far away. My tour bus climbs the Golan heights, arid but beautiful yellow peaks on the eastern banks of the Galilee, a disputed territory since the Israelis gained control of them from Syria during the Six Day War in 1967. ‘See those yellow signs?’ my guide Odelia says, ‘They’re for landmines, if you can see the back of them you know you’re on the wrong side of the fence.’
These days the Golans are more famed for their skiing resorts than their military significance, but one thing’s for sure, this is not the place to go exploring off piste.
Given the volatile past of the state of Israel and its compulsory military service, it’s no surprise that its people can normalise the legacy of conflict. At a café in Kibbutz Ginosar on the north-western banks of the Sea of Galilee I meet Doron, a young Israeli working his summer holidays in the Kibbutz café. Conforming to stereotype, he is tall, dark, handsome and as subtle as a sledgehammer.‘You have something most Israeli women don’t,’ he surmises, nonchalantly, ‘because here women are taught to shoot guns.’ I marvel at the originality of this line, but he has a point, life here is tough and as a consequence so are the people.
What a great and descriptive story. Love the whole website.