Garbring-Wicks Family Trip to Israel (and Budapest) over New Year’s 2012

In December a year ago I was just getting off morphine, still had intense pain in my mouth, and was very tired. Cancer treatments during the fall had nearly killed me, or so it felt. The cancer itself had not been much problem directly, although it had spread to my lymph glands (stage IV), which is good, because otherwise we wouldn't have known it was there. It was a highly treatable type, tongue-base cancer apparently induced by HPV. (This is the same virus that causes cervical cancer in women – and for which there is a vaccine, most useful if one gets it before becoming sexually active.) And now the cancer is gone, they killed it.

So, at the end of 2011, over New Year’s – in accordance with my motto: Here today, gone to Maui – we celebrated my "resurrection" with a one-week family trip to Israel. Growing up in the 1950s I was strongly affected by Holocaust novels such as Exodus (also the movie), and of course we’re all interested in resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I have also long been interested in kibbutz culture – though, as it happened, we didn’t explore any kibbutzim (apart from briefly visiting one that ran a hotel on the Dead Sea). I also have a cousin who converted to “secular Judaism” last spring – before dying in August.

Ellinor has also long been interested in visiting Israel – partly because of Christian history, but she’d also wanted a menorah (which she finally got at a second-hand shop last year). Linnéa has long been enthusiastic about visiting Israel, and Hendrik – who was skeptical when we suggested it two years ago (when we ended up going to Tunisia) – was enthusiastic this time.

In preparation for the trip we solicited suggestions from friends both Jewish and otherwise (thanks again!), and we got tourist literature from the Israeli tourist agency. Ellinor and I attended a service (led by a friend of ours, and including a double bat mitzvah) in the main synagogue here in Göteborg – something that neither of us had ever done before.

I read Karen Armstrong’s excellent History of Jerusalem: One City, Three Faiths. She’s a religious writer and former Catholic nun whose works I've appreciated before. She calls herself a freelance monotheist, and has also written about Buddhism and Hinduism.

Armstrong paints a sometimes negative picture of Christians (e.g., the Crusades and other examples of "Christians" not living up to the teachings of Jesus); and (as I see it) a generally sympathetic picture of Jews; but she sometimes seems most sympathetic to Muslims – e.g., Saladin, who was merciful to conquered Christians in Jerusalem despite the slaughter of Muslims there by “Christian” Crusaders less than a century earlier. This of course makes her controversial in the current infected political environment.

I also read the chapter on Israel in William Dalrymple’s excellent “travel” book From the Holy Mountain: A Journey in the Shadow of Byzantium. We carried with us Lonely Planet’s guidebook Israel and the Palestinian Territories.

I have my own feelings about the conflicting presence of Jews, Christians, and Muslims in “the Holy Land” – and ideas what to do about it – which I’ll be happy to share with you upon request, but otherwise won’t inflict upon you.

We left Göteborg a few days after Christmas and, since we flew on Malév Hungarian Airlines, I had arranged a "bonus" day in Budapest on the way. Then we had 3 nights in Jerusalem (including New Year's Eve); 1 night at the Dead Sea; 1 night in the Negev Desert further south; 1 night in Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee; and the final night in Acre (Akko) on the Mediterranean coast. We're friends with three Israelis whom we scheduled to meet during the trip. Otherwise we just looked around to see what we could see.

Israel is a small country. Despite all the driving we did – from the Med to the Dead and halfway to the Red (as expressed on t-shirts widely sold in Israel), then via Tel Aviv up to the Sea of Galilee and the Golan Heights, back to the Mediterranean, up to the Lebanese border, and down to Tel Aviv again – we only covered 1242 kilometers (less than 800 miles). We had a great time, experiencing fascinating culture, religion, history, geography, and nature, while having wonderful family discussions along the way.

Now we’re planning a trip to East Africa (perhaps to Zambia or some combination of countries thereabouts), perhaps for next December-January. Jews – dreaming of return to their spiritual roots – have long said Next year in Jerusalem. Now we – dreaming of return to our human roots – are saying Next year in Africa! (Suggestions welcome.)

Booked through AutoEurope, the cost of a car rental at Liszt Ferenc Airport (Hungarians put family names first) was less than round-trips for four on the shuttle bus to the city, but renting a car was a big mistake. It was hard to connect with the rental agency (Thrifty) once we got to the airport (I should have given them our flight number and they would have met us, but I didn’t realize that was needed). Driving in Budapest was also nearly impossible – the narrow one-way streets didn’t match the one-way arrows shown on our map (someone later told us they had recently changed the street signs!) – though our GPS helped. (I purchased the GPS for hiking in Alaska and Sweden, but had also found and installed free online maps of Hungary and Israel.) And there was the cost of parking.

But it worked out fine. We had a good Hungarian dinner near our hostel (both were cheap because the Forint is currently so low). We walked past the Great Synagogue in the old Jewish quarter, through the belle époque lobby of the Astoria Hotel, and checked out a service in the Franciscan Church still decorated for Christmas. We bought some bread and yoghurt for breakfast (and chocolate profiteroles – cream puffs!) at a small grocery store, browsed tourist shops and fast-food stands along the big walking street (also decorated with Christmas lights), and walked back along the Danube River.

Getting back to the airport on Thursday morning proved much easier, and we arrived in Israel that afternoon. I had hoped we might have time immediately after arriving to visit the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) Museum – a priority for Hendrik – near the coast on the other side of Tel Aviv, but going through customs and immigration, getting cash, and getting our car (this time from EuropCar – where there was a problem to do with insurance coverage) took too much time, so we headed straight for our hostel in Jerusalem, high in the mountains to the east. We later spent 3 hours at the museum, so we wouldn’t have had enough time on that first afternoon anyway.

From Google Maps I had printed detailed driving instructions – including diagrams of every road-change for all our planned routes in Israel – but they proved impossible to follow because we couldn’t identify the roads or streets that they referred to as we approached them. Eventually – by comparing a road map with the GPS and sometimes with the Google Maps’ diagrams – we learned how to navigate well. But this first time we got thoroughly lost, coming into Jerusalem from the southwest instead of looping around and coming in from the north, which would have brought us efficiently to our hostel just outside the Damascus Gate. Instead we meandered through small streets until finally finding the walls of the Old City and following them on around.

The hostel side of the Arab-run hotel & hostel was adequate for experienced budget travelers (Ellinor and I met in Bangladesh, and the kids have ambitions of traveling similarly on their own) – though the manager seemed surprised when I asked about top sheets, and we weren’t totally sure that the bottom sheets had been washed recently either. Nevertheless we rejected the nicer but more expensive hotel side, although – since we had booked an entire (4-person) room – we were entitled to the good breakfasts on that side.

The manager did later graciously provide toilet paper when I pointed out that none of the common toilets had any. I was surprised not to come across – anywhere in Israel – any squat toilets, which both Ellinor and I are used to from traveling further east many years ago, and the kids had seen in Tunisia. In Tunisia even the sit-toilets had a water hose available – as in squat toilets – but not in our experience in Israel.

We parked the car in an Arab-run lot just outside the walls of the Old City, put our bags in our room, and headed out on foot to the City Hall square in West Jerusalem to meet Shoshana (the youngest sister of my old friend Gus from St. John’s College-Santa Fe), her husband Yehoshua (also originally from the States and trained as a rabbi but now working as a technical writer), and their 21-year-old daughter Shalhevet (who is the social services coordinator in a paratrooper unit in the army). They took us to an excellent vegetarian (and thus kosher) restaurant (the Village Green on Jaffa/Yafo Street) in the Jewish commercial center. Then for dessert – although it was chilly weather, which we (coming from Sweden) didn’t mind – they walked us around that area to a great ice cream shop while giving us good advice on things to see and do later.

On Friday morning we walked around the corner of the city walls to meet another old SJC-SF friend, David Moss, at his studio where he showed us his artwork. He apparently single-handedly revived the Jewish tradition of individualized hand-written and hand-decorated marriage contracts (ketubahs) – he showed us a beautiful big book showcasing many of those he’s done. He said he now has about 160 competitors (whereas originally there were none). He also does other interesting work with a variety of materials and themes, which we enjoyed seeing and hearing about.

Starting from Jaffa Gate on the west, we walked on top of the Old City walls part way around to the south. Inside the Old City we looked around the Western Wall (the “wailing wall”) of the ancient Jewish Temple, through the old Jewish Quarter, and through fascinating market areas along one of the main Roman streets (although the original Roman street – the cardo – is now buried under many feet of many centuries’ rubble).

The street – now nearly completely roofed over like a tunnel – is lined with shops. We ate falafels and similar Middle Eastern food (e.g., grilled chicken in pita bread). We browsed tourist trinkets and sampled baklava and various similar Middle Eastern pastries, as well as many kinds of Turkish delight (e.g. nougat, which I love). I inquired about a pile of odd-looking lumps at the front of one shop – dried yoghurt!

When we got to the inside of Damascus Gate we still had some time available so we looked for the beginning of the Via Dolorosa (Jesus’ crucifixion path). We had missed it when we crossed it earlier in the market “tunnel”, but it starts further east in the Muslim Quarter so we turned east to look for it. We walked first through a residential area, where a group of small kids (aged 3-5?) smiled and giggled as we approached and greeted them, but then they threw stones at us (mostly small, but – scarily – one larger rock) as we continued past them.

Then an older boy – perhaps 8 or 10? – told us clearly that this area was for Muslims only. I’ve traveled all over the world but never met a response like that, and I was outraged, telling him that this was no way to greet visitors, no way to represent Islam, etc. (perhaps little of which he understood, but I was convinced that he would think about it). Linnéa was uncomfortable with my response – and also a bit afraid of potential danger – so we backed off (which I would have done anyway). And the boy was actually quite good-hearted, not hostile, as he followed us, trying to find out – if we were looking for something in particular – if he could help us find it (probably for a tip). If I’d remembered at that point I could have said “Via Dolorosa”, but I was too involved in debating with Linnéa and Hendrik the meaning of Islam and the appropriateness of holding one’s ground in conflicts that can arise when traveling.

Eventually we found where the Via Dolorosa begins, down towards Lion Gate, and followed it back towards the west, but Stations of the Cross are not well marked so we only saw one or two. When we got back to another main “Roman” street where the Via Dolorosa jogged to the left we lost it and went right instead, back to Damascus Gate.

We got our car and drove to Tel Aviv for dinner with Rami (whom Ellinor and her sister had met in Nepal in 1978) and his family, including his wife Yael; daughter Noa (21, now in theater school after having completed army service); daughter Neta (20, a “drill sergeant” in the army); and son Ido (11); plus Yael’s brother Miki who has been a tourist guide and had good suggestions for us. Coincidentally, both Rami’s and Yael’s parents were from Budapest and had survived Auschwitz – having been young, and lucky enough to get sent there late. (Linnéa and I visited Auschwitz last June when traveling in Poland, the Baltics, Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus. Ellinor and I had also visited Auschwitz many years ago.)

We enjoyed getting to know Rami’s family over their traditional Friday evening meal (starting with all the males wearing kipas for the prayer, then soup and bread and more). We shared traveler's tales of getting ripped off by con artists in India, hitchhiking in the winter in Alaska, etc. And Rami gave Ellinor menorah candles, which were on her shopping list for Israel!

With help of the GPS (and our efficient navigating team) we made it safely back to our hostel in Jerusalem before midnight. Even that late, there were recognizable orthodox Jews (that is, wearing distinctive clothing, beard, hair-do, and headgear) out on the street, presumably going to or from the Jewish Quarter and the Western Wall in the Old City from their residences further north. We had been told by Shoshana’s family to stay out of one area in that direction where “super-orthodox” Jews would also perceive us as not up to their standards and would make us feel unwelcome, perhaps also with rocks. Incidentally, the stone from which Jerusalem’s buildings and walls are built seemed very special, so we later stopped to collect some stones – but we preferred when they weren’t thrown at us.

On Saturday we spent several hours at the Israel Museum, which is huge so we barely scratched the surface. One of the highlights was the Shrine of the Book which houses the Dead Sea Scrolls along with information about the ascetic Jews (Essenes) who wrote them, how they lived in the desert, etc. Another highlight was the huge (outdoor) scale-model of the entire Old City, built during the period (1949-67) when the real Old City was under Jordanian control and Israelis were not allowed to visit, for example, the Western Wall. Exhibits also included artifacts from much earlier in the evolution of culture and human evolution in “the Land”, making clear that it’s far more than a religious museum. I laughed at a bumpy little stone, said to be a female figurine from 230,000 years ago – and perhaps it is?

We stopped in the Arabic market area near our hostel for street food – more falafels and mixed grill. Hendrik looked at bracelets while I talked with a Sunni shop-owner whose basic message about the world – spoken with great distaste – was: “Bush was really dumb, knocking off Saddam Hussein. Now Shiites control Iraq – and are a majority in Bahrain – while Shiite Iran is stronger than ever.” I asked, “What’s the difference between Sunnis and Shiites?” “Oh, not much, something about descent from the Prophet.” (Who should rule: someone chosen as the best leader, or a descendant of Muhammad?) This seems tribal – even magical – to me, but it clearly mattered a lot to him. He asked if I was Jewish or Christian: I answered “Buddhist”, which got a smile. Then he left for his other job, as staff manager at a fancy (presumably Jewish-run) hotel in West Jerusalem.

At Rami's brother-in-law's suggestion we drove east to the Mount of Olives from which one gets a breathtaking view back over the Old City with the Dome of the Rock in the foreground. On the way back to our hostel we drove through – more or less got lost in – steep and narrow back roads in Arabic areas of East Jerusalem.

We walked through the Old City again, following the western part of the Via Dolorosa – which we had missed earlier – through the Christian Quarter. We walked briefly through the Armenian Quarter as it got dark, as shops were closing (or had already closed) for the night.

We had heard that there would be a light show at Lion Gate sometime that evening (New Year’s Eve), but we never got clear when it would be, and we were tired, so we got to bed early. Israel is fairly far east in its time zone, so daylight is asymmetrical: The sun comes up early, and goes down even earlier. Now that we were leaving Jerusalem – where we could go out at night – we wanted to make greater use of the available daylight, so we had to get started early.

We had another conflict when we took our car out of the parking lot in the morning. There was a high hourly rate (with a max charge) during the day, and a very low overnight charge. Since we had brought the car in before 6 p.m. the day before, the attendants (or their computer!) wanted to charge us the high daily rate up to the max (that is, well into the night period), plus the night-rate, plus 3 more hours in the morning, but I refused. I pointed out that the max day-rate plus the night-rate (which, together, must cover 24 hours) was much less than what they were asking – and the car had actually been in the lot less than 16 hours – so they let us pay that. Fairly calculated, the charge would still have been substantially less, but we were happy when they lifted the boom and let us out.

We had been told that, for insurance reasons, we were not allowed to take the car into the occupied West Bank at all. Consequently we hadn’t even thought about visiting Shoshana and her family at their home in a settlement in the Gush Etzion Block south of Bethlehem. And we had also planned to drive the long way around – west, then south, then much further east, and then back north – in order to get to our hostel at Ein Gedi on the Dead Sea. But when we picked up the car at the rental agency they told us that of course we could take Route 1 going directly east to the Dead Sea – we just weren’t allowed to go into those (rather limited) areas that are actually under control of the Palestinian Authority (formerly the PLO). The State Department’s driving rules for families of diplomats – which we checked at the insistence of our “security officer” (Ellinor) – also allowed this route.

So, driving east from Jerusalem (elevation 754 meters, 2474 feet), we saw part of the West Bank barrier and later passed through one army checkpoint but otherwise experienced very little enforced separation or control. We had gotten used to the presence almost everywhere, though, of soldiers (not necessarily “on duty”, I believe) with weapons slung over their back or, for example, lying on the table next to them if they were eating in a restaurant.

Later we also repeatedly saw pairs of fighter jets streaking up the Jordan Rift Valley, which runs all the way from the Hula Valley and the Sea of Galilee in the north, through the Dead Sea, down to Eilat at the Gulf of Aqaba (and has sometimes been considered an extension of the East African Rift Valley). Following Israel’s border with Jordan, the patrolling fighters presumably demonstrate vigilance, both to Israeli citizens and to potential enemies. I took a picture of Israeli humor: a widely-sold t-shirt – with a drawing of an (American-made) F-16 fighter jet – that says America Don’t Worry, Israel Is Behind You.

After passing through the hills of the Judaean Desert we quickly descended (a long ways!) to the Dead Sea (currently 423 meters, 1388 feet, below sea level), the lowest place on earth, and falling almost a yard – almost a meter – per year due to overuse of water. Almost immediately after turning south onto Route 90 we stopped at a resort to see if the beach was open for casual passers-by, but since there was a charge for entrance we decided not to tarry. We were eager to get to our (Jewish-run) hostel – in Israel proper again – and to take a dip in the Dead Sea there, though we did stop for ice cream at Qumran where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.

At the hostel we were met by ibexes – mountain goats – casually walking around the grounds! We made the mistake of going into the Dead Sea at the nearby public beach on a cool and – more importantly – windy, wavy day, going in over a jumble of boulders at the shoreline. The waves knocked us into the salt-encrusted boulders, and we all got cut up, Ellinor and Hendrik worst. Over two weeks later, we’re almost healed up. The salt water (10 times saltier than the ocean) also splashed into our noses, burning us, and into our eyes, blinding us. But it was fun to float anyway (something I’ve never been able to do) – an experience worth getting cut up for.

The next morning we got up very early and drove in darkness to Masada, a cliff-top fortress built by Herod the Great (during whose reign Jesus is said to have been born) where nearly 1000 Jewish Zealots resisting a siege reportedly committed mass suicide in 73 CE rather than become enslaved by the Romans. (This “inspiring” story has been taken up by Jewish Israelis with the slogan “Masada shall not fall again”.) We climbed the cliff and were on top as the sun rose. Looking out over the Dead Sea – which is where the Jordan River ends – and over Jordan itself (on the other side), we naturally broke into a family rendition of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot: I looked over Jordan and what did I see…

After breakfast we went to the Ein Gedi commercial spa where Dead Sea access was much easier, though by the time we went out to the water – since the shoreline has receded very far since it was built, due to the falling water level – only Linnéa went in again. We had already all used the sulphur pools inside – also very buoyant – and covered ourselves in mineral-rich mud outside (despite its still being gray, cool, and breezy). I have video of Linnéa “mudding” herself which – subject to her permission – I’ll be happy to share if there’s a convenient way to do so that’s not “public” (i.e., that’s “by invitation only”); also of Linnéa floating in the Dead Sea, and a few other segments of our trip when I remembered to get out the camcorder.

Our next night's lodging was at a Jewish-run “camp” out in the Negev Desert near Moshav Hatzeva, about an hour further south in the middle of the Arava (or Arabah) Valley – the southern part of the rift valley – in an area with hundreds or thousands of large commercial greenhouses. The family slept while I drove there through fantastic moonscape, though they saw some of it the next morning. It rained a little along the way – very unusual in the desert. I hadn’t even needed to turn up the speed of the windshield wipers, but our hosts were concerned that the road to the camp might be too muddy for us to get through. In fact it was no problem – for an Alaska driver!

As we were leaving on Tuesday we noticed pomegranates growing on a bush just outside one of the greenhouses. I picked one that was broken open so couldn’t be sold and, after we got home, had it with my standard breakfast – cooked grain, several fruits, and yoghurt.

I asked about an alternative route through the desert back to the Mediterranean coast. Again people were very concerned that some roads might be washed out because of the rain, so – especially as we had a long day ahead of us – we didn’t go that way.

In Tel Aviv we finally visited the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) Museum, which was very interesting – especially for Hendrik, who knows a lot about weapons of various sorts. I enjoyed it more than did the ladies. (Hendrik has an idea about joining the U.S. military to “test himself” in some way, which the ladies, in particular, have been trying to discourage.)

The museum gave us a good overview of the various periods of conflict in Israel’s young history: pre-Independence (from the 1920s on); the War of Independence (in 1948-49); Suez (in 1956); the Six Day War (in 1967, when Israel annexed East Jerusalem and occupied the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and Golan Heights, as well as Sinai – the latter since returned to Egypt); the Yom Kippur War (in 1973, when Israel beat back attempts to retake the Golan Heights and Sinai); and since then (Lebanon and Gaza).

We were hungry but decided to wait for lunch until we got to (now largely Arabic) Nazareth. We drove by way of the Jezreel Valley and Megiddo – the prophesied site of Armageddon – so we would be familiar with the lay of the land, just in case of any future eventuality. We enjoyed eating falafels and Middle Eastern pastries in Jesus' hometown, looking at trinkets (and buying a few) in the tourist shops, as well as visiting a service in the Basilica of the Annunciation.

We spent the night at a (Christian Arab-run?) hostel in central Tiberias where we walked over to the promenade (“boardwalk”) along the Sea of Galilee and enjoyed a spectacular laser lightshow projected onto water fountains in the lake. We also enjoyed shopping for scarves, bags, and jewelry at nearby tourist stands.

On Wednesday we drove past Migdal (where Mary Magdalene was from) – and past many other Christian sites, including water-into-wine, loaves-and-fishes, and the Sermon on the Mount – up to Tel Hazor, the Canaanite capital from 1000 BC, where we explored the excavations (including a tunnel to reach ground water in case of siege).

In the Golan Heights we drove past shot-up buildings and tanks from the 1967 or 1973 wars and had falafel and kebab lunch in the Druze (Christian Arab) village of Mas’ade near snow-topped Mt. Hermon. We saw Nimrod (Crusader) Fortress – massive, on a nearby hillside – but missed Banias (waterfalls and forest, the home of the god Pan!). Back in the middle of the Hula Valley – with spectacular views of mountains all around, including in Lebanon as well as back to Mt. Hermon – we enjoyed a wonderful Nature Reserve (bird sanctuary).

Besides cranes, cormorants, herons, and other bird species, there were turtles, huge African catfish, river otters (lutra), and papyrus plants in the wetlands, plus water buffalo nearby. There was a spectacular 3-D film (“Oforia”) with special effects – moving seats, water drops, wind, etc. – showing bird migrations from northern Europe to Africa and back, many of which pass through a bottleneck at the Hula Valley. (Is it true that migrating birds sometimes fly as high as 40,000 feet – 12 km, higher than jetliners – where the temperature can be -60° or -70°?)

As the sun set we drove over to Acre (Akko) on the Mediterranean coast – the Crusader capital about 1200 CE – where we stayed at an Arab-run hostel. Acre is now a largely Arab town, though I had read – in a NY Times article by an Israeli Jewish reporter – about aggressive attempts by radical Jews (settlers returned from the West Bank) to make it clear to Arabs that they’re not welcome there. Muslim graves have been vandalized.

While I was checking in, Hendrik noticed a newspaper clipping (in Arabic) with a picture of U.S. Republican (and libertarian) Presidential candidate Ron Paul. I guessed what it might be about, but asked the hostel owner, who said something bland about how young people thought it was fun (or funny) that such an old man was running for President. But when I mentioned that Paul is in favor of cutting off all U.S. foreign aid – including aid to Israel – he acknowledged approvingly that that’s what the article was about. (I mentioned that I admire Paul for having a clear and consistent perspective on government, but that it’s usually helpful to see things from more than one side.)

For dinner at a nearby restaurant I had St. Peter’s fish (Tilapia), which I had noticed offered by many restaurants in Tiberias. We walked the narrow streets and wide courtyards inside the walls of the old town, and drank fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice. I took a picture of graffiti on a column showing the Star of David highest, a Christian cross next, and an Islamic crescent moon lowest. At first I thought it was a nice display of “ecumenicalism”, but then I remembered the article I’d read and wondered if the point was that Islam was on the bottom. We got to bed early again.

After an early breakfast on Thursday (our last day) we drove north (i.e., away from the airport) to see the spectacular wave-formed rock formations on the coast at Rosh HaNikra right at the Lebanese border. There were bats inside the grottoes, and hyraxes outside – the latter reminding us of marmots that we see in Alaska, but hyraxes are thought to be more closely related to elephants!

We drove to Tel Aviv, turned in the car, bought our last baklava, and got dropped off at the airport. As we waited for our first flight (back to Budapest) – while Linnéa was using our little computer with the airport’s wifi to check email – I read to Ellinor and Hendrik a section from Dalrymple’s book (From the Holy Mountain) that I had copied and brought along (and now was about to dispose of).

I had hoped we might have – but we hadn’t had – time to visit the Arab Christian village of Bar’am near the Lebanese border, which Dalrymple had visited in the 1990s. The villagers reported having always been friendly with Jewish settlers – and cooperating with Israeli Defense Forces – but nevertheless being evicted from their homes and land during the War of Independence, and never being allowed to return. Even though some of the land was now lying unused – and they had long ago won a case in the Israeli Supreme Court – they believed that, in practice, they would never be allowed to return to the land because it would set a “bad” precedent for others, including Muslims who had also been displaced.

Perhaps because we hadn’t paid sufficient homage to Pan when we had the chance in the Golan Heights, we panicked in Budapest when our plane from Israel was late and we only had a short layover scheduled – then found out that we had to go through security again, despite the very thorough security inspections we had gone through when leaving Israel! But other passengers were later than we were, and our plane to Göteborg seemed to have been held for all of us.

The entire trip cost $4,095 or 28,204 SEK – over half of which was airfare. Other than airfare, average cost was $58 (400 SEK) per person per day: $39 (265 SEK) in Budapest and $62 (419 SEK) in Israel.

In early February Malév Hungarian Airlines declared bankruptcy and stopped flying.