One day, without thinking, I found myself on a journey that took me over parched hills, and through olive groves, below sea level and much above it, to the edges of craters where petrified trees testify to the passing of millions of years, past ruins and relics, and desolate desert villages, down to bustling city beaches and traditional bazaars, in the midst of “jungle parties” and glaring modernism. But everywhere I went, although entirely new, I felt at home, such was the magic of my trip.
These are the hills that surround Jerusalem: where there lives a boy and his horses and a caravan for company.
Welcome to the bazaars of the Middle East: the cobblestone has been rubbed smooth by centuries of trade.
What on earth? I never came across any “sink-holes” – utter shame. But I was compensated floating on the Dead Sea: delighted with life. Come see the halite with me, its beautiful. I’d never heard from anyone that the salt made these wonderful sculptures.
At dawn I relived history as I walked to Masada, atop a stunning plateau. Very little was said: Herod’s architectural splendor and Jewish patriotism still resonate.
Nothing shatters silence like some strangely packaged cheese! Sorry if I may have robbed you of your innocence.
Caesarea: Pontius Pilate was here!
Peering into the “Big Crater”. Best weekend ever, camping in the Negev.
Gosh, I loved waking up that morning in the middle of a vast empty crater, in all that silence, with that feeling of freedom creeping up in a smile. Take me back to where I lost my heart, Universe.
Sidni Ali beach
The pleasures of Jaffa
Israel: blessed by beauty and eccentricity! Its people interesting, its land bewitching: it was soul captivating…
The breathtaking location of the Psykovsky gig.
Three months later and it was time for the seasonal change. Thank you for being good to me.
