מונטריאול היא עיר נמל וגם אי ששוכנת על נהר סנט לורנס. היא התגלתה לראשונה במאה השש עשרה על ידי מתיישבים צרפתים. במאה שלאחר מכן החלו להתיישב בה בדרך קבע, עד לשנת אלף שבע מאות שישים ושלוש, בסופה של מלחמת שבע השנים בין צרפת לבריטניה, אז כבשו הבריטים את העיר והפכו אותה לחלק מהאימפריה הבריטית. במהלך המאה התשע עשרה מונטריאול הפכה לנקודת סחר חשובה שבה ישבו דוברי אנגלית וצרפתית, והרב-תרבותיות הזאת נשמרה גם לאחר הקמתה של קנדה. במאה העשרים, ובעיקר לאחר מלחמת העולם השנייה, הגיעו אליה מהגרים ממדינות רבות, בהם גם יהודים אירופאים, שהחלו לעצב את אופייה המיוחד והססגוני של מונטריאול, שחלקו נשמר ומורגש עד היום
אף שהשפות הרשמיות כאן הן צרפתית ואנגלית, הצרפתית נחשבת לשפה העיקרית בעיר, ואת ההשפעות האלו מרגישים במהלך הביקור כאן, רוב מי שתפנו אליו יענה לכם בצרפתית לפני האנגלית, וזהו למעשה דבר שהחוק מחייב אותו לעשות, שכן חוקי השפה הנוקשים כאן נועדו לשמר את קידומה של הצרפתית בקוויבק על חשבונה של האנגלית, והדבר הזה עלול לגרום לתסכול מסוים בקרב התיירים. לכן, לפני שתתכננו את הטיול שלכם כאן, חשוב שתדעו שכמעט הכול פה בצרפתית – בשלטים שבכתב ובעל פה. האנגלית מוצנעת מאוד עד לא קיימת, וככל שתתקדמו מזרחה בעיר תפגשו פחות ופחות דוברי אנגלית
מונטריאול היא עיר שכיף לבקר בה בחודשי האביב והקיץ ולחקור ברגל. זה לא שאין מה לעשות פה בחורף, אבל למי שרגיל לאקלים הישראלי יהיה מאוד-מאוד קר. בין הרחובות ששווה להכיר תמצאו את שדרת סנט לורן שתציע לכם חנויות היפסטריות צבעוניות לצד
מסעדות וברים שפתוחים עד השעות הקטנות של הלילה. ברחוב קרסנט משקיף. משקיף דיוקן ענק של האגדה המקומית לאונרד כהן. ברחוב תמצאו מקומות שכיף לעצור בהם לדרינק או לארוחה טובה. במדרחוב סנט דני תמצאות מגוון של חנויות. תמצאו מסעדות
כשתסתובבו ברחבי העיר כדאי שתפתחו את העיניים – תמיד יהיה מעבר לפינה איזה מיצג שיפתיע אתכם. למעשה, מונטריאול מפורסמת בין היתר בשמונה מאות מיצגי האמנות הציבוריים הפרושים ברחבי העיר, דרך גרפיטי הענק ועד לתופעות נוספות שהפכו לחלק בלתי נפרד מהווי העיר, וכך כל סמטה סתמית לכאורה יכולה להפוך בן-רגע למופע אור-קולי שלא יוכל להשאיר אתכם אדישים. בקיץ מתקיימים בעיר פסטיבלי תיאטרון, מוזיקה והופעות רחוב, ומונטריאול היא גם עיר הבית של הקרקס הבינלאומי המפורסם סירק דה סוליי. ואיך מתניידים? התחבורה הציבורית בעיר נוחה ושימושית מאוד. המטרו, על כל שישים ושמונה התחנות שלו, יעיל מאוד ויוכל לקחת אתכם כמעט לכל נקודה שאליה תרצו להגיע. גם מערכת האוטובוסים מקילה על ההתניידות ברחבי העיר. אגב, משום מה יש ברחבי העיר שיפוצים בכביש במשך כל השנה, אז אל תופתעו אם פתאום הדרך תיחסם ותצטרכו לעקוף אותה
העיר העתיקה של מונטריאול היא אזור שחייבים לבקר בו, והיא גם התפרסמה כלוקיישן לכמה סרטים בינלאומיים. מרכזה ברחוב סנט פול שרובו מדרחוב ומצדדיו מבני אבן יפים שחלקם עוד מימי ראשיתה של העיר מהמאה השבעה עשר, שיגרמו לכם להרגיש שאתם בכלל באירופה הקלאסית. חוץ מכל ההיסטוריה שנמצאת בין המבנים, ומייחדת אותם ממקומות רבים בצפון אמריקה, תמצאו פה שלל גלריות, חנויות מזכרות, מסעדות ובתי קפה שפשוט נעים לעצור ולשבת בהם. מכאן מומלץ להמשיך כמה דקות הליכה לנמל העתיק בעיר, שמצויד גם בגלגל ענק ובדוכני מזון ושתייה. מכאן תוכלו להשקיף על הסירות, היאכטות והספינות, וגם לראות את מגדל השעון הלבן והמפורסם של העיר
Spending a night in late March at Kibbutz Erez in southwestern Israel was an unforgettable experience. Visiting friends, it was somewhat eerie. Most residents have not returned since the Hamas terror attacks on Oct. 7, and the absence is profound.
The area is like a Canadian suburb. A group of houses surrounds a large grassy area, which has children’s playgrounds and lemon, orange and kumquat trees. This type of living is a rarity in Israel, where most people live in apartment buildings.
While the environment was scenic and comfortable, explosions could be heard in the distance and puffs of smoke periodically arose from Gaza, the border of which is less than a kilometre away. The Israel Defence Forces were entrenched nearby.
Kibbutz Erez fared better on Oct. 7 than many other kibbutzim and towns in the region because they received advanced warning from a neighbouring kibbutz that an attack was underway. Their neighbours had seen hang gliders from Gaza soaring overhead.
The security team of Kibbutz Erez quickly assembled to try to prevent the invaders from entering the kibbutz through the main gate. First, they called the IDF to make sure that the army wasn’t conducting an exercise. Receiving confirmation that it was a terrorist attack, the kibbutzniks asked how long it would take for the army to come – they were told they were on their own.
A firefight involving rifles, grenades and RPGs ensued. According to one of the kibbutzniks, “we fought like lions.” This was no ordinary military engagement, but a battle to protect their children and other family members from the Hamas terrorists. If they failed, they knew that Hamas would hurt their children.
Amir, one of the kibbutzniks, whose wife was expecting their first baby, was killed in the encounter. Danny received a bullet to the neck and Uri suffered wounds to his head and leg.
Liora, a nurse described as having nerves of steel, recognized that neither Danny nor Uri would survive without immediate medical attention. Both were bleeding profusely, and their level of consciousness was decreasing. With the help of a friend, she packed them into a car, drove out of the kibbutz amid a hail of bullets and got them to a nearby hospital, where they received lifesaving treatment. Both survived in relatively good physical shape.
After a fight of close to two hours, the terrorists decided that Kibbutz Erez was too difficult to overcome, and moved on to wreak havoc on the next village. The IDF did not arrive until later that day.
The whole kibbutz was evacuated to Mitzpe Ramon. Many of the families moved into hotel rooms there. After several weeks, makeshift schools were established and members of the kibbutz achieved some measure of normality, as much as it can be normal living in a hotel,totally dependent on caring neighbours, a supportive community and government help. Since then, some of the kibbutzniks have relocated to Kiryat Gat, which is much closer to their home. Some, including my friend, have returned home.
What is the future of Kibbutz Erez? People are slowly trickling back. The telling test will be in the summer, if families return in preparation for the start of the school year in September.
Kibbutz Hatzerim and Kibbutz Be’eri
Earlier in March, we visited extended family who live on Kibbutz Hatzerim, and heard about their experiences on Oct. 7.
People on Kibbutz Hatzerim awoke that day to sirens and multiple WhatsApp messages from friends and relatives, letting them know that Israel was under attack by Hamas terrorists, who were infiltrating the settlements close to the border. Were the attackers coming to Kibbutz Hatzerim, 20 kilometres west of Beer Sheva? Rumours circulated that they were on their way to Tel Aviv. People were reluctant to turn on their TVs, to protect their children from seeing the horrors that were happening. People received no directives from government sources or from the army. It was an information vacuum.
Some visitors at the kibbutz, who had arrived for Simchat Torah, decided to return to their homes in central Israel, but was it safe to drive there? Nobody knew.
Would the kibbutzniks be able to defend themselves? They did not have many weapons and the kibbutz could be easily infiltrated from several locations. But people on Kibbutz Hatzerim ended up being the fortunate ones. The terrorists were planning to move in that direction but didn’t make it that far. Apparently, they had killed and kidnapped enough people by then – 364 people killed and 44 kidnapped at the Nova music festival alone, mainly young people.
After Oct. 7, life returned to some degree of routine on Kibbutz Hatzerim. However, there were frequent missile attacks, necessitating trips to the bomb shelters. People were called up to do army service (miluim). The IDF was fighting in Gaza and soldiers were being killed. The plight of the more than 240 hostages was on everybody’s minds.
The death and destruction of some of Kibbutz Hatzerim’s neighbours is indescribable. Of special note is Kibbutz Be’eri: approximately 70 terrorists entered the kibbutz. Of the 1,000-plus residents, 97 kibbutz members were killed, 11 people were abducted and one-third of the houses were severely damaged.
Kibbutz Be’eri and Kibbutz Hatzerim have a lot in common. Hatzerim is famous for having developed the drip-irrigation technique and has a large production facility at the kibbutz. Be’eri houses one of the largest printing companies in Israel. Both kibbutzim resisted privatization, which many others had adopted as additional sources of revenue.
Hatzerim and Be’eri were both established in 1946 and both were comprised mainly of people on the left of the political spectrum. They looked forward to a peaceful future with the residents of Gaza. Many were involved in a program that transported sick people from Gaza to hospitals in Israel for advanced treatment. One of the residents of Be’eri, Vivian Silver, originally from Winnipeg, had learned Arabic to better communicate with her Palestinian neighbours, but that didn’t save her life on Oct. 7.
Currently, most residents of Kibbutz Be’eri are being housed in temporary locations, such as hotels in the Dead Sea area. They are safe and relatively free from missile attacks, but life is far from normal. Trying to reestablish a kibbutz lifestyle, while living in a crowded hotel with none of the amenities that glue kibbutzniks together, is challenging.
A house in Kibbutz Be’eri after the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas terror attacks. (photo by Tomer Persico)
A massive building project is now underway adjacent to Kibbutz Hatzerim. A whole new temporary kibbutz to house the residents of Be’eri is under construction. The plan is to have the temporary kibbutz finished by the summer, so that families can move in before school starts in September.
Some facilities, such as medical clinics and administrative offices, will be shared by the two kibbutzim. Otherwise, the temporary Kibbutz Be’eri will have its own houses, schools and offices. Hatzerim will expand its present dental clinic, seniors lounge and grocery store to accommodate the increased needs from the larger population. In typical kibbutz fashion, members of both kibbutzim have met many times to jointly plan this project.
The ultimate plan is to rebuild the original Kibbutz Be’eri, which was mainly destroyed on Oct. 7. It is hoped that this will be accomplished within the next two years.
Kibbutz Yiron
Look at the label on your kosher wine from Israel. Most likely it comes from Kibbutz Yiron. Next year will probably be different, as the kibbutz is on the Lebanese border and has been evacuated – no one is allowed into the area. As a result, according to one kibbutz member, the pruning of the vines, which usually takes place in the spring, did not happen this year. The same kibbutznik informed me that $20,000 worth of his favourite apple, Pink Lady, was left to rot.
Kibbutz Yiron is an oasis in the desert. We have visited because we have friends who live there, but people come from many other places in Israel and elsewhere to enjoy the mountain scenery, go for hikes and rest in a peaceful environment. Lebanon is visible in the background, but the border was quiet. It is heartbreaking to see this piece of paradise abandoned.
Spring pruning hasn’t been possible at Kibbutz Yiron’s vineyards because of the evacuation. (photo by B. Negin / flickr)
The jewel of Yiron was its Pinat Chai, a literal oasis consisting of a zoo with multiple animals, including a python, which would be taken out on non-feeding days and draped around the necks of unsuspecting visitors. Peacocks, ducks and geese roamed freely. Deer would run around their enclosed area, frequently escaping into the wider area, trying to evade recapture. A lake in the middle of the zoo was a star attraction. Row boats and paddleboats navigated the small artificial lake in a region with no natural lakes.
Kibbutz members looked forward to the day when Pinat Chai would serve as a meeting place for children and families of different origins. They anticipated a day when Lebanese children would enjoy themselves at Pinat Chai together with Israeli children.
But the zoo is now gone. The government also ordered them out of the kibbutz. The animals have been relocated to other places in Israel, and even to other countries.
The evacuation was part of a larger one that included all settlements close to the Lebanese border, like the city of Kiryat Shmona, with 22,000 inhabitants; and the town of Metulla, home of Canada Centre and one of only a few skating rinks in Israel. This area of northern Israel has special significance to the Jewish community of Vancouver, as our partnership region. Since the mid-1990s, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver has worked closely with Etzba HaGalil (the Galilee Panhandle).
Kibbutz Yiron was not attacked on Oct. 7. However, the northern border has heated up since then. Hezbollah has been firing many missiles into the region, sometimes 30 per day, killing several Israelis.
Villages, especially in the Gaza Envelope, are receiving government compensation and many have relocated so that they are all living as a group, whether in Mitzpe Ramon or Eilat or the hotels at the Dead Sea. People in the north have not received the same compensation, so they are widely scattered. The kibbutznik with whom I spoke is living in a village close to Haifa. When I asked him when he’s going back to his home, he said anywhere from six months to maybe a couple of years.
There are many in Israel, including government ministers, who think that a war with Hezbollah is imminent. Hezbollah’s arsenal of weapons is much larger than that of Hamas, so a war with them could be even more destructive. The IDF has been stationing additional troops in the north, as tensions rise. Many people are strengthening their bomb shelters.
Looking to the future
Oct. 7 changed Israel in dramatic ways. Stories of neglect, abandonment and destruction are legion. At the same time, Israelis have shown incredible resilience to plan and rebuild for the future.
For many years, kibbutzim have defined Israel’s borders and acted as a protective barrier, both in the north and surrounding the Gaza Strip. But will the kibbutzim be able to rebuild their lives with some semblance of security? Can they ever again trust a government and an army that so dramatically let them down?
People are slowly returning to the kibbutzim surrounding Gaza, but many may never return. For the people along the Lebanese border, the situation in some sense is more dire. They have been exiled from their residences for more than seven months. The agricultural and industrial bases of the kibbutzim economies have been shattered. When will they be able to return? Will the small-scale conflict in progress along the Lebanese-Israel border become a major war?
It’s a very challenging time to be an Israeli, especially a kibbutznik living close to Israel’s borders. Hopefully, their future will include some degree of peace and normality.
Larry Barzelai is a semi-retired Vancouver family physician, who travels to Israel frequently to visit his three grandchildren there. He is presently co-chair of the Jewish Medical Association of British Columbia.
Ahrida Synagogue is one of the two still-functioning synagogues in the Balat neighbourhood of Istanbul. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)
On my first trip to Israel just after graduating high school, I met a similar-aged Turkish Jew. He was also visiting Israel. He spoke no Hebrew or English, so I tried my then-proficient Spanish. Surprisingly, he responded, although not all the words he used were familiar to me. I didn’t know then that he was speaking Ladino, or Judeo-Spanish. Slow forward several years to May 2023, when I finally visited Istanbul for the first time.
While I only recently “made it” to Turkey, Jews have been there for a very long time. If you take a biblical approach, you know that, when the flood ended, Noah’s ark rested on Mt. Ararat, near Anatolia, Turkey. If you take an historic approach, Jews have lived in what is now Turkey since Roman times.
While most members of the Jewish community in Istanbul today trace themselves back to the Jews who were forced out of Spain and Portugal in the late 1400s and early 1500s, there have also been communities of Karaites, Jews who do not accept rabbinic law, but rely solely on what is written in the Hebrew Bible. As of 2014, they numbered less than 100 in Istanbul.
Sultan Beyazid II welcomed the Jews from Spanish-speaking countries – when Spain expelled its Jews and Muslims in 1492, Beyazid sent his navy to evacuate them to Ottoman lands.
Among the Jews in Turkey in the 1500s was widowed businesswoman Doña Gracia (1510-1569). Originally from Portugal, which ordered Jews to convert to Catholicism a handful of years after Spain’s decree, she moved to Istanbul so she could openly practise her Judaism. Having been a “conversa” (forced convert), she was keen to help others in the same situation. She established yeshivot and synagogues in Istanbul. She also was the first woman printer and publisher in the Ottoman Empire. She lived in the European quarter of Galata.
Doña Gracia was not the only Jew to do well in Turkey. A number of Jews had successful businesses. Many dealt with precious metals and stones; others were money changers or lenders. In the 1500s, Hekim Jacob served as Sultan Mehmed II’s personal physician – by 1800, Jews would make up 27% of all licensed physicians in Istanbul. Even today, Balat’s 120-bed Jewish Hospital or Yahudi Hastanesi is still functioning, although the patients aren’t usually Jews.
In 1666, the false messiah Shabbtai Tzvi made an appearance in Istanbul. He had visited other countries when there was the breakdown of the social order or the economy was on the decline. The opinion of Jews in Istanbul (then called Constantinople and the capital of Turkey) was divided, but the majority feared his appearance would be the cause for actions against Jews in general. When those who were attracted by his messianic enthusiasm went out to meet him and pay him homage, opponents informed the grand vizier and he ordered Shabbtai Tzvi’s arrest. After Shabbtai Tzvi’s conversion, the communal leadership decided on a course of damage control, downplaying the false messiah incident, including by attempting to prevent discussion on the subject.
At the beginning of the 20th century, the Jewish population in Istanbul was 100,000. Today, there are fewer than 20,000 Jews in all of Turkey and a new wave of emigration has started. Contributing factors are President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s tumultuous 20-year rule, with its up-and-down relationship with Israel, rising antisemitism, perceived threats to the personal security of Jews and rising anti-Jewish discrimination from Turkish society, as well as the country’s unabated inflation. Altogether, since Israel became a state, some 100,000 to 150,000 Jews have left Turkey for Israel.
In Istanbul’s Balat neighbourhood, for example, where, at one point, more than half the population was Jewish, the Turkish bath or cavus Hammami (el bano de Balat in Ladino) that was frequented by Jews in the neighbourhood is apparently still running but most synagogues have closed. In Balat, only two are still functional: Ahrida Synagogue, with its unusual bima in the shape of the prow of a boat, and Yanbol Synagogue.
Today, most of Istanbul’s Jews are Sephardi, with only about 600 individuals who identify as Ashkenazi. Yet, Etz HaHaim Synagogue, also known as Ortakoy Synagogue (for the neighbourhood in which it is situated) holds combined services for both Sephardim and Ashkenazim.
Istanbul’s Ortakoy Synagogue, also known as Etz HaHaim, holds combined services for both Sephardim and Ashkenazim. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)
Istanbul’s Neve Shalom Synagogue (and mikvah) has been the site of two major terrorist attacks. In September 1986, Arab terrorists staged an attack with guns and grenades on worshippers in the synagogue, killing 23. In November 2003, a car bomb exploded outside the synagogue during a bar mitzvah service. Hundreds of people – mostly Turkish Muslims who lived or worked in the area – were wounded and over a dozen were killed. For security, there is now a guard post in front of the synagogue and the adjacent Jewish museum and those interested in visiting must show proper identification.
As far as eating in Turkey, aubergines (eggplants) are plentiful in the summer, so most meals include either fried, baked or stuffed aubergines. Empanadas, as they are called in Spain, are usually referred to as börekas or börekitas in the Sephardi cuisine in Turkey, using the word börek for the same type of Turkish pastries. A tapada is prepared in a pie fashion, baked in a tray with a variety of fillings – best, of course, with aubergines.
Food expert Claudia Roden whose grandmother came from Istanbul, offers a recipe for prasifouchi, a creamy leek pâté that was traditionally served as a dairy evening meal in Turkey during Pesach. It is made with leeks, potatoes, eggs, kashkaval cheese, nutmeg, salt and pepper and sunflower oil. (See The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey from Samarkand to New York, page 527.)
There are at best two kosher restaurants in Istanbul. While not at all fancy, there is also a centrally located vegan café.
If you visit Turkey, güle güle gidin, may you leave with lots of laughter, ie. with a smile on your face, having had a good time.
Deborah Rubin Fieldsis an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.
The signage at the site of 1,700-year-old synagogue ruins in Albania was recently replace after a Canadian tourist informed the municipal government of the old signs’ illegibility. (photo from Dave Gordon)
During a trip to Albania in September 2022, Toronto-based Jewish journalist Dave Gordon visited the city of Saranda with a couple of friends. They especially wanted to see the 1,700-year-old synagogue ruins.
As Gordon describes it, the site is roughly the size of two side-by-side tennis courts. What remains are myriad roofless stone walls of just a couple feet tall, which once separated various rooms, including a study and two mikvaot (Jewish ritual baths). A representative of Albania’s culture ministry happened to be at the site when Gordon was there, handing him a leaflet with information about the site’s history and background. It said Israeli archeologists unearthed floor mosaics – now buried with a foot of sand, to protect them from the elements – that displayed a menorah and a deer, regarded in Judaism as a symbol of beauty, majesty and God’s mercy.
Additionally, the literature said the synagogue likely crumbled after either an earthquake or a Slavic invasion, and was abandoned in the last quarter of the sixth century. In the 21st century, there was more deterioration – this time, with the printed panels describing what is on the site.
Gordon was “shocked and disappointed” to see that the signage was in disrepair, faded by neglect. Two panels, each measuring some four feet wide by two feet deep, were blanched by the sun, so white that the lettering and imagery were illegible.
“My face turned the same colour as these signs,” Gordon told the Jewish Independent, for which he has written many articles. “This is part of my heritage, my history and people, and it was like it was another Jewish landmark sadly disappearing from memory.”
The signage at the site of the synagogue ruins in Albania when Dave Gordon visited. (photo from Dave Gordon)
On Dec. 12, 2022, Gordon took action. He Googled the Saranda municipality offices’ emails.
“This is shameful for two reasons: your tourists will not be able to obtain much knowledge about the important landmark, and it shows little care from your city’s cultural department to maintain the signage,” he wrote.
“This is highly disrespectful, and I cannot understand why the two signs were permitted to deteriorate,” he continued, adding that he hoped to bring others to Saranda and “would love for them to take photographs of the new signage and publicize this wonderful jewel of archeology.”
A representative from the municipal offices wrote back, two days later: “For the problem in question, we have reported the need for scientific reconceptualization, the preparation and installation of information panels, and we have contacted the Directorate of Cultural Heritage … a copy of your complaint will be sent to the responsible institution and we hope that very soon we will have a better presentation of this monument.”
In the beginning of January, Gordon followed up with an email, asking if the inquiry had landed in the right hands. To his great surprise, on Jan. 20, the Ministry of Culture of Albania sent him this reply: “In response to your email, we inform you that the new information boards have been installed to the Synagogue of Saranada…. Please find attached the photos of the new signage.”
Esmeralda Kodheli, the ministry’s representative, added, “Thank you, too, for promoting our cultural and historical heritage.”
“Quite amazing!” Gordon told the JI. “To print detailed signs and place them, inside of 30 working days – and during the Christmas season, no less. And who was I? Just some guy from Canada writing some emails.”
The site of the synagogue ruins in the city of Saranda. (photo from Dave Gordon)
Gordon said he felt “disbelief, delight and honoured, all at the same time,” and felt like his “little bit of activism” made a tangible difference, reminding him that anyone can enact change.
“I am pleased as anything that this amazing site of Jewish history now has dignity restored,” he said.
Dr. Ruki Kondaj, one of the friends who accompanied Gordon on his trip, is an Albanian-Canadian. He said about Gordon: “He’s done great work through his lobbying to restore the signage, and I’m so happy with his passion and determination. Together we discovered traces of Jewish history that tourists will know more about.”
Albania has various sites of Jewish interest, including the Solomon Museum in Berat, as well as an upcoming Holocaust museum in Tirana and a future Jewish history museum in Vlora, which also is home to “Jewish Street,” marked by a plaque on a home in the city centre, marking the one-time bustling Jewish area. Albania refused to cooperate with the Nazis, deciding as a nation to save its Jews, and even welcoming Jewish refugees from neighbouring countries. For more on Albania’s Jewish history, visit jewishindependent.ca/albanias-many-legends.
Jonathan Wasserlaufis a freelance writer, and a political science major and law student based in Montreal.
According to one tour guide, an hour spent walking around the Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem and talking to the residents there is the best way to gain an understanding of the complex conflict that has caused so much suffering. (photo from Gil Zohar)
The throngs of foreign journalists parachuted into Israel to cover the judicial reform debacle – and the many more correspondents based here on a semi-permanent basis – do a poor job explaining basic facts of life in the Jewish state. A case in point is the West Bank.
Most English-speaking tourists I encounter as a licensed tour guide/journalist are woefully ignorant about the legal status and history of the territory Israel captured from the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan in the June 1967 Six Day War. The term West Bank is a neologism King Abdullah invented in 1948, when his Arab Legion crossed the Jordan River from the east bank to occupy the area known in Mandatory Palestine as Judea and Samaria.
Apart from those traveling with companies like Abraham Tours, which offers a dual narrative tour of Hebron, or Green Olive Tours, which also promotes travel to the Palestinian Authority provisional capital Ramallah and other key Palestinian cities, most tourists avoid the Area A cities of Bethlehem, Ramallah, Nablus, Jenin, Tulkarm, Qalqilya and Hebron. The latter city, divided into PA-ruled H1 and IDF-controlled H2, is the only city in the West Bank with both Jewish and Palestinian residents.
Car rental companies like Hertz or Shlomo Sixt don’t offer insurance to visit Area A. The exception is Middle East Car Rental, located in East Jerusalem’s Wadi Joz neighbourhood, which provides twin insurance policies for those PA-controlled Area A cities, Israel-ruled areas B and C, and the pre-1967 remainder of the country.
What, then, are areas A, B and C? And what should a tourist know about visiting them?
First, the West Bank is safe for tourists – mostly. On March 18, two German nationals were surrounded by angry youths in Nablus, who slashed the tires of the tourists’ Israeli rental car. Notwithstanding that the two knew their car insurance was void in Area A, the pair – who were mistaken for Jewish settlers – drove to the city to enjoy Turkish coffee and the local goat cheese and rosewater pastry delicacy called knafeh nablusiyya. They were rescued by an Arab-Israeli who himself was shopping in Nablus in violation of the Israeli law barring its citizens from visiting Area A.
Looming trilingual signs painted red warn Israelis that entering Area A is dangerous. Nonetheless, hundreds of thousands of Israelis from Nazareth and elsewhere in the Galilee routinely shop in Jenin, where prices for food and vegetables are strikingly lower than in Israel, and where the 17% value-added tax is not paid.
Similarly, some Jerusalem Israelis illegally buy granite and marble products and furniture from factories in nearby Bethlehem, thus saving the 17% VAT. Trucks with yellow Israel licence plates, rather than the green and white ones used in the PA, routinely pass through the Israel Defence Forces roadblocks that ring the West Bank. These soldiers are not customs officers, so they don’t inspect waybills from those trucks, whose bilingual drivers have tuned their radio to Hebrew stations to blend in should they be stopped.
Apart from the aforementioned signs, nothing prevents anyone from driving into Area A. Under the bilateral Oslo Accords signed by Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization in Washington, D.C., in 1993, Israel divided the West Bank into Areas A, B and C, and withdrew from the first. Area A is mostly composed of non-contiguous municipalities and villages, and Israel’s roads and bypass highways gerrymander around Area A cities.
Despite trilingual signs painted red, warning Israeli citizens that entering Palestinian Authority-controlled Area A is dangerous, hundreds of thousands of Israelis routinely travel to Area A cities. (photo from Gil Zohar)
Areas B and C are under the control of the Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories (COGAT), a unit in Israel’s Ministry of Defence that coordinates civilian issues between the Israeli government, the IDF, international aid and nongovernmental organizations, diplomats, and the PA. Following the Oslo Accords, COGAT replaced the defunct Civil Administration, which had governed the West Bank and the Gaza Strip between 1981 and 1994. (Israel unilaterally quit Gaza in 2005.)
Returning from Area A to Israel can be trickier. The main difficulty is not the 800-kilometre-long incomplete wall and fence that partially encircles the West Bank. For example, while Palestinians with the correct documents and biometric ID card are required to pass through the Qalandiya checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem, five kilometres to the east is the Hizma checkpoint used by Israelis living in the West Bank. Under normal security procedures, cars with yellow licence plates simply drive past the IDF troops. Bored-looking soldiers wave drivers through. Mostly, cars just slow down for perfunctory profiling.
But how does a scofflaw who scarfed hummus at Bandali in Ramallah’s Lower City get back to Jerusalem? Ditto for Rukab’s Ice Cream in the city centre, which has been dishing up its unique, stretchy gelato since 1941? Or the Vanilla café, renowned for its divine cakes? Having had a culinary respite from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, one hails a cab and asks to be taken to the Rami Levy supermarket in Geva Benyamin, east of Ramallah. The driver – wink, wink – will drop you off on Route 60 at a slight distance from the settlement’s gate, which is guarded by an armed security officer. Should the guard ask you where you are coming from, the response “From Route 60” will be sufficiently vague that he will allow you past the barrier. There, at the bus stop, one waits for the bulletproof bus that drives back to Jerusalem through Hizma. No ID documents are checked.
Similarly, no documents are required for the 25-minute ride on Bus 231 from Jerusalem’s Damascus Gate Bus Station to central Bethlehem via Beit Jala. Like traveling from Ramallah back to Jerusalem, the return from Bethlehem requires some fudging of the truth. Bus passengers disembark at the checkpoint on Route 60 between Beit Jala and Jerusalem. Some Israeli citizens holding a foreign passport pretend to be tourists. When asked for the visa they received at Ben-Gurion Airport (which is issued on a sheet of paper rather than stamped in one’s passport), they play the “stupid card,” claiming they don’t have it. The guards may scowl but routinely let the faux-tourists re-board the bus rather than create ill-will.
Israel’s porous approach to security similarly applies on the West Bank’s highways. Today, all the permanent army roadblocks that once cut up the West Bank have been removed, allowing freedom of movement. “Z,” an intrepid tour guide who routinely takes tourists to all three sectors in the West Bank, points out where the decommissioned IDF posts once stood.
Jeff L., a lawyer from Los Angeles who volunteered with the Israeli army’s Sar-El program, recently went with Z on a day-long tour across the northern West Bank, including Nabi Musa (a shrine Muslims revere as the mausoleum of Moses), the oasis of ‘Ain Mabu’a, the all-Christian village of Taybe (with its renowned brewery), the all-Muslim village of Turmus Ayya, and the model city of Rawabi. Rawabi and Taybe are in Area A.
Stuck outside Ramallah in an L.A.-style traffic jam in the late afternoon, the two abandoned their plan to pose for a selfie outside Yasser Arafat’s tomb in the Muqata government compound.
In an email, Jeff wrote, “It was an awesome day. I will do my best to become an ambassador for peace.
“My day in the West Bank began at Wadi Qelt / Nahal Prat. The beautiful nature reserve was full of blooming wildflowers. Muslim women and their families from Hebron were enjoying the rushing water and lush surroundings. We were greeted warmly by all with big smiles.
“Visiting Taybe, Tarmus Ayya and Rawabi, again, everywhere we went we were warmly greeted. Fortunately, Z speaks Arabic and was able to communicate with everyone we met. My impression of the day in the West Bank was one filled with hope for the future.
“There was a genuine interest in everyone we met to talk and to make us feel welcome.
“All the people we met who live in the West Bank want the same peace and prosperity for their families as we [Jews] do.”
Z – who has a permit from the Israel Ministry of Tourism to enter Bethlehem and Jericho – has never encountered a problem in Area A or elsewhere in the West Bank. During the pandemic, he was stopped by a PA policeman en route to the Mar Saba monastery east of Bethlehem. The officer, who was carrying an AK-47, didn’t have an issue with a car full of tourists in a vehicle with yellow licence plates driving in Area A, but instructed them to return to Jerusalem because of the threat of COVID.
Should tourists to Israel also visit the West Bank and Area A?
Z insists that an hour spent walking around the Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem and talking to the residents there is the best way to gain an understanding of the complex conflict that has caused so much suffering. Moreover, tourist sites like Hisham’s Palace in Jericho or Jacob’s Well in Nablus, where Jesus is said to have chatted with a Samaritan woman, are all exceedingly interesting and photogenic. But Z recommends going with a seasoned tour guide, lest you end up like the two German tourists who were attacked going to Nablus’s al-Aqsa pastry shop.
Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.
המכר של מדרום אמריקה מנסה להסביר לי מדוע עדיף לגור ביבשת שלו ולא במערב. מה הוא אומר: “החיים במערב לחוצים פי כמה מאשר במדינות הלטיניות, זה ברור. אני מדבר על הכלל. אדם צריך לעבוד קשה כדי להתפרנס, מה שלא צריך פה עבור אדם כמוני שבא עם סכום כסף מסוים ולא צריך להיות מודאג כלכלית. אגב, גם אתה כמובן צריך לעבוד לא מעט או קשה, תלוי בהגדרה. כל אחד עושה מה שמתאים לו. אני עצמי לא הייתי עובר לחיות במדינה מערבית ועובד שם קשה. זה לא בשבילי. אני מבהיר מראש שאני לא אומר את זה בנימת ביקורת עליך. זה פשוט לא מתאים לי. אני לא אהגר למדינה אחרת כדי לעבוד קשה יותר מכפי שעבדתי בישראל. היגרתי כדי לשנות לחלוטין את אורח חיי, לחיות בקלות ובנינוחות ובלי לחץ ולהגשים כמה מטרות וחלומות שהיו לי, ואני עושה את זה גם בימי מגפה”. אם כן ידידי הלטיני שכח את מה שהוא מספר לי כל הזמן על המדינות הלטיניות שלו: מדובר במדינות עניות שברובן הדיקטטורות שולטות, בלגן ושחיתות אינסופיים. במדינתו אפילו את התרופות גונבים ואחר כך מוכרים אותן בשוק שחור. הוא לא מפסיק להתלונן על השכנים המרעישים, על רעש קבוע מהרחובות ובקיצור אין דין ואין דיין.
האיש הלטיני מספר לי כי הוא גר במקום יפה עם הרבה טבע נהדר ולי זה נשמע ממש כמו וונקובר. הוא מזכיר סוף סוף גם את המגרעות: “התיירות מביאה איתה דינאמיות אך יותר רעש. התיירות מביאה גם בעיות, כידוע. החיים כאן לא לחוצים בכלל. מאיפה קיבלת את הרושם הזה? הוא חוזר ואומר: בעיר תיירותית יש יתרונות וחסרונות. החסרונות באים לידי ביטוי בימי מגפה, הרבה פחות בימים כתיקונם. מצד שני, אילו הייתי נביא וידעתי שתפרוץ מגפה ספק אם הייתי עובר לכאן, כי התיירות מביאה יותר נדבקים כידוע לכול. באוקטובר 2019 כשאמרת לי בלחץ: תצא מהמדינה לא הבנתי בכלל מה אתה רוצה וממה אתה לחוץ. הייתי יחד עם עוד ידיד איטלקי היחידים בבריכה ושחיתי בכיף. בריכות לא חסרות כאן, מפלים, נחלים. לא היה שום סיכון. ידעתי שזה יימשך שבוע או מקסימום שבועיים, וכך קרה. את דרום אמריקה ויתרונותיה אינך מכיר מספיק. על חסרונותיה בימים אלה דיברנו מספיק. הייתי רוצה להבהיר כשדברתי על “חיים לחוצים” בחייו של המכר מדרום אמריקה, התכוונתי לכך שמפגינים חסמו את כל הכבישים הראשיים ואי אפשר היה לזוז לשום מקום. אלימות קשה. בתקופת הקוביד כל אחד עושה כרצונו, אנשים מסתובבים ברחובות ללא מסכות, כמות הנדבקים עצומה ורוב מוחלט של החיסונים מגיע מסין ומרוסיה וכידוע איכותם נמוכה ביותר. האיש שכח להזכיר שבמשך חודשים ארוכים הוא כמעט ולא יוצא מהבית בגלל המגפה הקשה.
כדי להצדיק מדוע הוא בחר דווקא לגור באחת מהמדינות העניות ביותר ביבשת הדרומית, הוא אומר: “את העולם המערבי אני מכיר היטב. ביקרתי בארצות מערביות לא מעטות. עזבתי את המערב מרצוני וידעתי למה. אם המגפה הזו תימשך אולי אחזור אליו, אבל לא מאהבת מרדכי. המציאות בעולם משתנה כל הזמן ולא לטובה. מה שהתאים לאתמול, לא בהכרח מתאים להיום, ומה שמתאים להיום, לא בהכרח יתאים למחר”. שוב שכח האיש את העובדה שבעולם המערבי יש יציבות בחיים ובמשטרים, לעומת חוסר יציבות קשה מאוד במרבית מדינות הדרום, שזקוקות לעזרה מהמערב כל הזמן.
גבי בעולם הלטיני אומר האיש יש ספרות, תרבות, מחול ומוסיקה ותיאטרון משובח. יצירות לטיניות ומכל העולם, כולל אופרה וכל דבר. אם לא הייתה בו תרבות, הוא לא הייתי נשאר לגור שם. אגב, רמת הספרות במדינות הלטיניות גבוהה מאוד ואתה יכול לפגוש כאן אינטלקטואלים וסופרים מהשורה הראשונה. בדרום אמריקה יש ירידי ספרות יותר מאשר בישראל ובמדינות רבות אחרות. בטוחני שהוא מדייק הפעם לשם שינוי בנושא התרבות, אך אי אפשר לטעון שבעולם המערבי אין יותר תרבות מאשר בדרומי. למשל בוונקובר עד לפריצת המגפה, באופן קבוע הלכתי עם בת זוגתי לקונצרטים, אופרות, הופעות מוסיקליות, סרטים ותערוכות. בתקופת הקוביד אנו ממשיכים מדי מספר שבועות להגיע למועדון הג’אז ‘פרנקי’, והאווירה בו ממש מצוינת ומזכירה מועדונים דומים בארה”ב ואירופה.
המכר חוזר לדבר שוב הפעם על המגפה שממאנת להסתיים והוא אומר: “אתה צודק שחובה להתחסן אבל השאלה מה הלאה. המגפה רחוקה מלהיגמר, אחוזי ההגנה נמוכים יותר מטענת דוברי פייזר, הדלתא גרם לנזק קשה הרבה יותר, כמות הנדבקים גדולה ולא רק בין אנשים שלא התחסנו. שים לב שבישראל היו הרבה מאוד נדבקים. מדינות רבות חוזרות לתקנות חירום, הגבלות ואף סגר כולל ארה”ב. ולגבי חיסון שלישי? ככל הנראה יהיה, וכל זאת בגלל שילוב של התנהלות שלומיאלית של הממשלות, התנהגות שערורייתית של הציבור וכמובן התפשטות וריאנטים. זכותך כמובן לחשוב אחרת אבל המציאות ברורה. טוב לשמוע שבוונקובר המצב טוב. אבל המגפה רחוקה מלהיגמר. גם בישראל המצב היה טוב עד שהדלתא הגיעה לשם. העולם רצה כפר גלובאלי כפי שכתבתי לך פעם וקיבל אותו ישר לפרצוף”. אני אגב מסכים עם המכר שהמגפה רחוקה להסתיים אך לדעתי, שמגובה בעמדת הרופאים הבכירים בעולם, זאת כיוון שאחוז סרבני החיסונים גבוה מאוד. טענתי לפני חודשים ואני טוען גם כיום ביתר שאת כי כולם מחויבים להתחסן, למעט אלה שאסור להם להתחסן מסיבות רפואיות. ומי שלא מוכן להתחסן – יש את הצורך להגבילו. טוב לדעת שמספר הולך וגדל של מדינות מתחילות לנקוט בעמדה תקיפה נגד מתנגדי החיסונים.
האיש הלטיני טען שאני מזלזל במסכות אך הזכרתי לו שרכשתי מאות מסכות כאשר המגפה החלה. הוא ממשיך: “במחוזות רבים בעולם לצערנו המסכות הן חיוניות, לפני מתן החיסונים ולצערנו גם לאחר קבלתם. עד כמה הן עוזרות כפי שאתה כותב, זו שאלה באמת טובה. במשהו הן מן הסתם עוזרות. אבל בוא נגיד לסיכום: להשתמש רק במסכה זה עלול להיות לא להספיק, לסמוך רק על החיסון בלי המסכה, גם זה לא בטוח שיספיק בגלל הבהמות, ואתה יודע יפה שהאנושות היא כרגע הגורם המרכזי של הפצת המגפה”. אני מסכים לחלוטין עם האמירה שבגלל התנהגות רשלנית של תושבי העולם המגפה עדיין חייה וקיימת. אם זאת אחזור ואציין שוב הפעם כי החיסונים הם הפתרון היחידי והקבוע למגפה. אנו נאלצים כיום להתחיל ולקבל חיסון שלישי, כיוון שרבים מסרבים להתחסן. אם מספר המחוסנים לא יעלה משמעותית נאלץ לקבל גם חיסון רביעי וחמישי ויתכן וזה יהפוך לנוהג קבוע – חיסון שנתי לקוביד במקביל לחיסון השנתי להשפעת.
שמח אני לגור בוונקובר ובמחוז בריטיש קולומביה שבו מספר המחוסנים כיום הוא הגבוה בעולם. לא הייתי רוצה היום ובכלל אף פעם לגור באחת ממדינות
דרום אמריקה. הבעיות שם הן כה גדולות, חוסר המשמעת של התושבים, העוני, האלימות והפשע ועוד צרות ללא הפסק. עדיף לגור בבריטיש קולומביה היפה שלנו.
Unemployed tour guide Hannah Rosenberg is now serving up hot dogs for about $12.50 Cdn an hour. (photo by Gil Zohar)
For Anglo tour guides who have been unemployed since March 2020, the Israeli government’s recent decision to impose a seven-day quarantine requirement for visitors from the United States because of the coronavirus – that resulted in the cancellation at the beginning of August of 42 10-day Birthright trips – was another blow to a hard-hit industry.
Compounding the gloom caused by the week-long isolation order are two other decisions. The U.S. Centres for Disease Control recently warned against travel to Israel due to the rise in cases of the coronavirus as the Jewish state experiences another wave of COVID-19 infections and death. And, at the end of June, Bituach Leumi (Israel’s social service agency) ended payments to unemployed guides under the age of 60.
Hannah Rosenberg, 30, who completed a two-year certification course at the Hebrew University, leading to a series of Ministry of Tourism licensing exams in February 2020, is currently grilling hot dogs at Zalman’s in downtown Jerusalem for NIS 32 (about $12.50 Cdn) an hour. She remembers how the good times suddenly ended.
“March 18 (2020) was my last tour,” she recalled. She was two days into a seven-day tour with an American family visiting Jerusalem and the Galilee when a phone call from the U.S. State Department cautioned the family to leave immediately, lest they get stuck without a flight out. “It was a lie,” said Rosenberg, a native of Jupiter, Fla., the first of many she has heard from government officials.
“I applied to Bituach Leumi,” she said, “and was denied because I had not been working for the previous six months, during which I was studying for the tour guide exam.”
An ever-resourceful veteran of an Israel Defence Forces combat intelligence unit, Rosenberg kept applying and, after nearly a year, was given NIS 1,200 ($475 Cdn) monthly beginning in February. That payment ended in June.
“My parents are helping,” she said. “It’s the first time since I was a kid. It’s a hard thing to ask.”
Notwithstanding the hardship, Rosenberg has no plans to leave Israel. “I’m here for good,” she said, sharing that she still plans to pursue her dream to become an archeologist.
Mark Sugarman, 68, who made aliyah from Boston in 1971 and became a licensed guide in 1992, has had a relatively easier time. He’s simply become retired – but not by choice. His last tour was in March 2020, he said.
“We finished the tour, the typical 10-day Christian pilgrimage tour of the holy places. It was grueling. It was like being in the army and doing miluim (reserve duty). I was exhausted…. I went into a voluntary two-week quarantine. I didn’t know if I was infected and I didn’t want to infect anyone close to me…. By the time I came out of quarantine, we were in the first lockdown. I was stuck at home with my wife and dog in Talpiot. I was knackered,” he said, using a word he learned from his British clients.
“I applied for everything. A month later, I turned 67, so I officially reached the age of retirement and I got Bituach Leumi. I couldn’t get unemployment … because I took old-age pension, I wasn’t eligible. Whatever I get, I’m grateful.”
He added, “When I was working, I saved money. The last four years before COVID was a fat period. Now, it’s lean. I’ve been in the business for close to 30 years. I remember the Second Intifada, from 2000 to 2004, and that was a harder period than now. Everyone had to scramble at the time. I know how hard it is for my colleagues who have young families.”
Sugarman would like to go back to the United States for the unveiling of his mother’s headstone in November, but it’s problematic at this time.
“It’s been hard,” he said. “My mother’s funeral was on Zoom. Since the pandemic started, I [have] lost three family members and two friends. We were cut off from each other physically. People dying were isolated from their loved ones. Together with the loss of income, that’s been the hardest part.”
Daniel Gutman, 41, has worked as a tour guide since 2009. The Dallas, Tex., native remains philosophical about the situation. “I’ve had a little bit of work here and there, with some people visiting, family and seminaries and yeshivas, which needed two to four guides per capsule. That helped a little but, basically, I haven’t worked in the last 18 months.
Since Bituach Leumi stopped its payments at the end of June, Gutman said it has been challenging. “The government bailed us out for 18 months after they put me out of work. It was enough to survive. Now I’m back to March 2020, to square one, figuring out what I’m going to do. I’m dipping into my savings.”
On the positive said, he said, “Although I’ve taken a hit financially, I’ve had an 18-month sabbatical to be with my family.” But, he added, “I’m looking forward to getting back to showing people the country I love.”
Even during times of war and terrorism, tourists used to arrive, Gutman said. But not now. “Is there [national] value in tourism?” he asked. “If so, the government needs to support tour guides. Money has gone to bail out tour operators and hotels.”
Gutman loves his career and said he has no plans to retrain. “I am optimistic this will end.”
Chicago-born Ami Braun, 43, another veteran guide, also has scrambled to survive since benefits ended in June. He recently sent an email promoting online sales of the Four Species (etrog, palm, myrtle and willow) for the upcoming holiday of Sukkot. And he has conducted some virtual tours for the Beit Avi Chai community centre. “I have been a licensed guide for 14 years. This is my passion. I am doing whatever I can to stay afloat,” he said.
Braun has returned to guiding part-time at the Kotel Tunnels. “The pay is like a student job,” he noted. “It’s not something to live off of.”
In addition to being a writer, I’ve been a licensed guide for more than a decade. For the longest time after March 2020, I dreamed, every night, about guiding. It was a great adventure showing tourists my country, the West Bank, Jordan and Egypt, and I touched the hearts of a lot of people who fell in love with Israel. But those days are gone. I’ve been able to devote my time to editing a book about Hebron’s Jewish community, and to researching a study about Nazi collaborator Hajj Amin al-Husseini, the grand mufti of Jerusalem, who spent the years 1941 to 1945 living in Berlin and aiding the Third Reich. I’ve had clients send me to Portugal and to Germany, but now travel has all but ended. Every summer since 2005 my wife and I have visited family in Canada. This year was the first time we haven’t gone. We’ve cut back on all expenses, including hosting Shabbat guests.
Still, I consider myself fortunate. I have my good health, interesting research, food in the fridge, and a wonderful wife and friends. Everything else doesn’t matter.
Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.
An aerial photo of the remains of a 3,200-year-old Canaanite fortress built near today’s town of Kiryat Gat. (photo by Emil Aladjem/IAA via Ashernet)
The Kiryat Gat fortress site, which was opened to visitors this week, was prepared by the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) and Jewish National Fund (KKL).
According to archeologists Saar Ganor and Itamar Weissbein of the IAA, “The fortress we found provides a glimpse into the geopolitical reality described in the Book of Judges, in which the Canaanites, Israelites and Philistines are fighting each other. In this period, the land of Canaan was ruled by the Egyptians and its inhabitants were under their control. During the 12th century BCE, two new players entered the game: the Israelites and the Philistines. This led to a series of violent territorial disputes. The Israelites settled in non-fortified settlements at the Benjamin and Judean mountains. Meanwhile, the Philistines accumulated power in the Southern Coastal Plain and established cities such as Ashkelon, Ashdod and Gat in an attempt to conquer more areas. The Philistines confronted the Egyptians and the Canaanites on the borderline, which probably passed at the Guvrin River, between the Philistine kingdom of Gat and the Canaanite kingdom of Lachish. It seems that the Galon fortress was built as a Canaanite/Egyptian attempt to cope with the new geopolitical situation. However, in the middle of the 12th century BCE, the Egyptians left the land of Canaan and returned to Egypt. Their departure led to the destruction of the now-unprotected Canaanite cities – a destruction that was probably led by the Philistines.”
A drawing of what the fortress probably looked like. (drawing by Itamar Viskin/IAA via Ashernet)
The dimension of the fortress is 18 metres square and watchtowers were built in the four corners. A threshold, carved from one rock weighing around three tons, was preserved at the entrance of the building. Inside the fortress was a courtyard paved with stone slabs and featuring columns in the middle. Rooms were constructed on both sides of the courtyard. Hundreds of pottery vessels, some still whole, were found in the rooms.
The remains of the fortress were uncovered with the help of students from the Israel studies department at Be’er Sheva’s Multidisciplinary School, students from the Nachshon pre-military preparatory program and other volunteers. This was done as part of the IAA’s policy to bring the general public, and especially the younger generation, closer to archeology.
Visitors to Masada learn more about the site through Gadi Mathov’s miniature model of the landmark. (photo from Mathov Design)
What would it take to make museums, cultural sites and tourist attractions more accessible to people with visual, intellectual or developmental disabilities? For the past 25 years, Israeli professional miniaturist Gadi Mathov has been working on solving this problem using models.
At Masada National Park, for example, people with visual impairment can understand the site’s unique topographical structure and history through Mathov’s 3D tactile models.
“We also created for them miniature models of siege vessels that illustrate the Roman siege of Masada,” he explained. “The way I define it, a model is a physical representation of a product or an idea. A model is a medium that allows people to communicate and pass along ideas between them.”
Mathov Design models are used in leading cultural institutions such as the Israel Museum and sites managed by the Israel Antiquities Authority and the Israel Nature and Parks Authority. Mathov also cooperates with the Commission for Equal Rights of Persons with Disabilities, the National Insurance Institute and the Access Israel nonprofit organization.
Mathov Design’s 100-square-metre model of Jerusalem, featuring the Temple Mount, the Tower of David, the Knesset, the new Jerusalem Light Rail and other iconic structures, can be seen in Times Square in New York City as part of the Gulliver’s Gate project.
Birdwatching via models
Agamon Hula, a must-visit birdwatching and natural beauty attraction in northern Israel, is also enhanced by Mathov’s models. Here, he cooperated with Pnina Ceizler, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael-Jewish National Fund’s northern region projects and accessibility coordinator, and KKL-JNF’s chief ornithologist Yaron Charka to make the site’s research station a place of interest for people with disabilities – visitors can see and/or feel models of the birds that migrate in the area, as well as special globes and maps that highlight migratory routes.
“There are quite a few models that we’ve created to enhance the experience for people with visual impairments,” said Ceizler. “We see that it’s useful for everyone, also for children with disabilities or with autism.”
The accessible experience at the research station has proved to be a huge hit, she told Israel21c. She tried it out on a group of people with visual impairments before opening it up to private visitors and organized trips for schools and people with special needs.
“They enjoyed this whole experience up close. They were impressed and admired everything,” she said of the accessible centre’s first visitors.
Back to the future
Mathov has worked in his profession for 37 years, but it came about quite by accident. “It was a temporary job while I was an architecture student, and then I found out that I liked it better,” he recounted.
Decades later, he’s still in love with the job. “They’ll have to take me out of here in a coffin,” he joked, speaking of his workshop in the central city of Lod.
Along with cultural institutions, his clients include the defence establishment and medical instrumentation companies.
Mathov is not worried about work drying up in the age of technological advancement. “There’s nothing more comfortable or clearer than a model,” he said. “There are dozens if not thousands of uses.”
Lately, it’s become much easier and cheaper to create a model. “The biggest development was the introduction of what we call computerized production,” Mathov explained, citing 3D printers, lasers and CNC (computer numerical control) machines. “Each of these technologies helps us create a much more complex and higher-quality product in less time and for a cheaper price.”
Mathov hopes that, one day, people will be able to print out models at home of the places they’re planning on visiting. “Today, no one goes to the store to buy music; no one goes to Blockbuster to watch a movie. I imagine that, when you’ll want a miniature model, you won’t go to a miniaturist. You’ll be able to download them and print them by yourself,” he explained.
However, printing is only the end of a process that begins with human creativity. Mathov said a model should contain “the human spark of the soul of the person who created it.”
And, while he mourns the disappearance of craftsmanship, Mathov is a firm believer in advancement. “You have to keep on looking forward,” he said. “To understand what the technologies are and where they’re heading; how to adopt them or compete against them or circumvent them.”
Israel21c is a nonprofit educational foundation with a mission to focus media and public attention on the 21st-century Israel that exists beyond the conflict. For more, or to donate, visit israel21c.org.
The writer and her husband at the synagogue Slat-Al Azama, in Marrakesh, which was built in 1492 by Jews expelled from Spain. (photo from Miri Garaway)
There are so many adjectives to describe Morocco, but, after being immersed in the country for three weeks and observing the people, the cities, the villages, the markets, the customs, the gardens, the arts and crafts, the architecture, and the potpourri of cultures that weave through this land, one can only conclude that Morocco is a fascinating, diverse country.
Morocco has an air of intrigue that enchants the soul and entices the curious traveler to explore beyond the realm of the imagination. The country has a way of drawing one in. It is the muse and inspiration for writers, poets, artists and craftspeople.
From scenes of everyday life and the feeling of stepping back in time, while navigating the uneven cobblestone streets of the medinas (old cities), to the overwhelming beauty of the landscape, one is transported into another world. Morocco is a land of mazes of narrow alleyways in the enchanting Medina; ochre-coloured earth; women grinding almonds to make argon oil; roadside markets; royal blue doors; rug weavers; tasty, elaborate tagines and mint tea; mounds of olives and spices; dramatic gorges; and captivating Berber villages. I could go on; the list would be long.
Through an extremely knowledgeable private driver, arranged by the company Journey Beyond Travel, we set about to include the Jewish sites of a once-vibrant community, which stretched back more than 2,000 years.
Landing in Casablanca, it felt like an oversize version of Tel Aviv, especially the drive along the beaches and the White City architecture.
During our tour of Casablanca, we visited the Moroccan Jewish Museum, which was once a Jewish orphanage (until the mid-1990s). How wonderful to see our history and culture displayed, with Torah scrolls, traditional clothing, daily life objects, paintings, sculpture and a library containing photographs, documents and videos of Jewish life in Morocco.
Walking through the enchanting, stunning and unique blue city of Chefchaouen, we happened upon the only remaining Jewish fabric merchant. We felt an instant bond, and he welcomed us into his small shop.
As we explored this vast country, we found traces of our ancient history in the archeological Roman ruins at Volubilis (near Moulay Idriss and Meknes); the epitaph of the synagogue rabbi in Greek, for example. The town of Ait-Ben-Haddou, now a centre for filmmaking, was once a significant Jewish community.
Traveling down a country road in Zaouit El Bir Dades, in the Valley of the Kasbahs, we stopped at a Jewish cemetery (all locked up) that was dated 1492.
When I had my first glimpse of the majestic imperial city of Fez, from atop a large hillside, I immediately thought of Jerusalem. The Medina of Fez is a huge maze of tiny alleyways, with colourful visual delights around every corner.
The Orthodox synagogue Ibn Danan in Fez was built in the 17th century in the Jewish Quarter, known as the Mellah. (photo by Miri Garaway)
The Orthodox synagogue Ibn Danan was filled with Israeli tourists. Its predominant blue colouring reminded me of the ancient synagogues in Tzfat. The exquisite woodcarving and blue-and-white mosaics make it especially beautiful. It was built in the 17th century in the Jewish Quarter, known as the Mellah. In the mid-1990s, it was restored, and it reopened in 1999. It contains such elements as arches, wooden benches, tapestries and oil lamps.
Moses Maimonides, the Jewish scholar, philosopher and physician, escaped persecution by a fanatical Muslim sect in his native Cordoba, Spain, and lived in Fez from about 1159 to 1165, before moving to Palestine and then Cairo, where he could openly practise Judaism. In the Fez Medina, there is Maimonides’ House, which is a store containing an incredible selection of Jewish antiques and art.
When talking with the cultural director who organized our art and culture tour of Fez, she mentioned that, before 1956, Jewish women lived in Fez and were known for sewing the silk buttons on to men’s jellabas (Moroccan caftans).
In Marrakesh, in the Mellah, we visited the synagogue Slat-Al Azama, built in 1492 by Jews expelled from Spain. Off the courtyard, there is a series of rooms, acting as a museum, depicting Moroccan Jewish history. The Chefchaouen blue (a deep royal blue) doors and blue-and-white mosaics were particularly striking, as was the lovely synagogue. I could visualize it once teeming with life.
The charming coastal fishing town of Essaouira was once home to 70,000 Jews and 48 synagogues. Only three synagogues remain and we visited them all: Slat Lkahal, Haim Pinto and Simon Attia. At Slat Lkahal, we were given an informal tour by a Muslim woman; there were some fascinating historical photographs, which made the old community come alive. Nearby Haim Pinto, a small, wooden 212-year-old synagogue containing two Torahs – one original, one new – is painted a vibrant Chefchaouen blue.
Haim Pinto Synagogue in Essaouira is 212 years old. (photo by Miri Garaway)
Finally, Simon Attia Synagogue, located outside the Mellah, but within the Medina, is still in use today for the small community in Essaouira. It has a huge wooden door in the shape of a Gothic arch. After several attempts to gain entry during the week, when it was locked, we returned on a Saturday, around noon, and were lucky enough to go inside, as services were finishing. I was expecting a grand interior, but that was not the case. It was lovely, though, and we felt welcome and were glad for the opportunity to visit. One of the anterooms contained a small museum.
The hamsa, or Hand of Fatima, as it is known in Muslim countries, is everywhere in Morocco. One off-the-beaten-track place I would have loved to visit, about 28 kilometres from Fez, is the town of Sefrou, once inhabited by Spanish exiles and Jews from southern Algeria.
Did we feel safe traveling around the country? This is a question many people asked. Absolutely. There was a sense of unity among all religions. Perhaps a sign of hope for future generations.
Morocco is a country that must be seen. I am still in constant awe.
