TEL AVIV AND HOME

We’re in the air. Cumulus clouds hang beneath the plane, and below them, the great, deep Mediterranean, wide and blue. We’re heading home.

It’s strange how the second half of any holiday goes more quickly than the first. Before you know it, it’s the final day, or the day before the final day, and you’re just getting used to it, when you have to think about the journey back, to packing the suitcase, to going home, to reality, to life. Not that I’m complaining about that - it’ll be nice to be back. It’s just interesting how time works, depending on the thing you’re looking forward to.

We spent our last full day yesterday in Tel Aviv, our base for the week. I think, having driven over 1,000km, we probably needed more of a rest day, so we thought we’d spend some time downtown in the Dizengoff area, which (we were told) was where the real city comes to life. It’s about an hour’s walk from where we were staying, so naturally, we took the bus.

I might be misunderstanding it, but I think that the system for using public transport in Israel could be easier. As far as we could make out, the simplified cash-free travel system is based around the use of a card called a Rav-Kav. With the Rav-Kav, you can just climb on a bus or train, swipe your card, and away you go. The only problems are that there are three different types of Rav-Kav, the instructions for using them are all in Hebrew, you can’t load them up on the bus, you can load them up using machines (Hebrew, again) which are hard to find, and certain shops (which seem even more difficult to locate). You can only use one anonymous Rav-Kav (ideal for travellers like us) per person (less than ideal for travellers like us), and in shops they can only load one journey at a time. Sometimes, you have to agree (as we did after trying to understand all this in conversation with a bus driver while the vehicle was in motion), cash is the simplest money system of them all.

But of course, the bus drivers won’t take it.

We figured something out, and, after a nice walk through the overgrown park, we found ourselves at a curious-looking museum, celebrating something called the Palmach, which is a thing neither of us had heard of before. Google Maps (if anything, our third companion this week) showed us the way there, but in offline mode couldn’t really help us any further with what there was.

If you know anything about the Palmach however, you might not be surprised to know that the ‘museum’ was guarded by real soldiers with actual machine guns. It wouldn’t be a shock either that we had to show our passports on entry.  Less museum, it turns out, more trainee army barracks. The Palmach were a fighting force of young people who played a key role in Israel’s struggles during the 1940s. Independence in 1948 of course, came at a huge cost, both before and after that extraordinary May day when the people became a nation. And in some ways, it still does.

We joined in with a school group to see the audio and visual presentation, all about the Palmach. I’ve been to many exhibits, but this one really was one of the best I’ve ever seen. An hour of rooms with rotating scenes, film-quality storylines and acting, impressive effects, lighting that sets you in the scenery as you walk through it, and a deeply emotive narrative. One room, I noted, was built to resemble the inside of a ship headed for Israel, blockaded by the British Navy. As we stepped into it, I could smell the sea air and feel the pulse of the waves. There were portholes and pipes, crates and ropes, and a sense of great anxiety as the video showed us the black and white footage of a huge Navy ship colliding with our own.

“How can it be illegal for us to enter our own land?” asked a recorded Jewish voice. A deeper question would be hard to find, as would a better way to experience it.

Tel Aviv itself is Israel’s second city. We’ve really enjoyed staying there, figuring out the driving, the etiquette and a little of the rhythm of the place. It’s the forward-thinking, secular metropolis to Jerusalem’s religious eternity, and you really feel the vibrancy of its young adults wherever you go. Electric scooters are everywhere - in England, I’ve only seen one (belonging to a colleague of mine who’s trying to prove they’re not just for children). In Tel Aviv, they are the must-have item, and quite probably, the only way to get around. Paul and I debated them at length - I still maintain that an electric scooter wouldn’t make it up Pincent’s Lane, back home.

Quite unlike Tiberias, it’s really easy to forget that you’re near the sea in between the skyscrapers of Tel Aviv. Yet, just a few blocks from Dizengoff Square (a roundabout with a circular fountain in it), the sea rolls in, and that yellowy-white strip of sand we saw from the air a week ago arrives underfoot as fine white sand. We took some photos in the golden hour of sunset, then when the wind became too strong for that ( I got sprayed by the waves taking a picture by the rocks) we went into a café for a couple of minty teas and a read.

The sun had set by the time we’d visited the bakery for baklava and pasties. There was rain in the air too, which, knowing Israel a bit better at this end of the week, we assumed would mean we had a couple of minutes before the ‘former rains’ became the ‘latter rains’ and we’d be better drenched than Noah’s umbrella. We made a run for it, then spent the evening playing Bananagrams and eating the tasty goodies from the bakery.

And suddenly, that was it. We packed our things this morning, went one last time to the bakery, and headed for the airport. Home. And I didn’t mess it up.

It’s been a packed week, full of some very different days. We’ve been boiling, we’ve been soaked, we’ve been immersed in history and fascinated by culture. We’ve been to the centre of the world and felt the pull of the greatest of stories - and we’ve eaten well, and, much to my surprise, given the way we packed it, we’ve rested even better. It’s been fun, funny, interesting and emotive, and reaffirming and relaxing, in so many ways. I feel as though I’ve loved every minute.

Those cumulus clouds are shrouded in darkness now. Only a blinking starboard light is visible on the wing outside the window - it seems as though it’s suspended in mid-air, like a lantern, flying in parallel to this old plane. Perhaps it is - fittingly, a tiny spark of hope to light the way home.