Israel...Part 2...Day 5

March 10, 2019

Day 5: We left Jerusalem this morning and loaded onto a bus headed towards a Kibbutz near the Mediterranean Sea. The Kibbutz Ma'agan Michael is an inclusive collective community in Northern Israel, and is one of the wealthiest kibbutzim in the world. For those of you who don't travel in these circles, a kibbutz is a 'utopian' society based on socialistic and zionistic ideals. The entire community works and contributes, and everyone makes the exact same amount of money, whether they are a custodian or a doctor. Houses are assigned by tenure within the community, and cars are shared between members. Laundry is done by a centralized laundry service and meals served in a large cafeteria. There were over 1000 members of this particular kibbutz and the only way to become a member is to either be born into the community or marry into it. There was a gym, swimming pool and daycare centers. Sounds perfect, eh? Yeah, I didn't think so either. It had a certain cult or Stepford Wives feel to it that made me feel uneasy. They pay with 'numbers' and their children are forced into daycares shortly after birth so that both parents can contribute to the community. Children are forced to get a job as soon as they reach 12 or 13 years old. The members seemed cheerful enough but it was definitely not a lifestyle I would want to have.

Because somebody must have tried it?

At the Kibbutz

Daycare Center at the Kibbutz

After the kibbutz tour we were then taken, by car, to the Juha Guesthouse in an Arab fishing village named Jisr Az-Zarqa. This village is the only Muslim village on the Mediterranean coast of Israel. It is also the poorest. When we first pulled into the guesthouse my first thought of the place was 'we are going to sleep HERE???'. I couldn't believe it. We looked at the trash on the streets and the people gawking, honking horns, with the Muslim call to prayer echoing off the dilapidated buildings around us. It was seriously intimidating. We were ushered inside a surprisingly modern lobby, filled with the art work of local women from this poverty stricken town. Women who gathered each week to make friends and connections, some who haven't had a friend in their lives and have never done a single thing for themselves, were learning how to express themselves by using artwork.

Our first impression of Jisr Az-Zarqa was not a good one

After checking into our rooms (yes, we had our own rooms in this place) we were greeted by a woman who gave us the history of this village and why it is so different than the other Arab Muslim villages in Israel. If you ever find some time, please Google this town: Jisr Az-Zarqa. We were then guided through the village and I'm not going to lie; this was an eye opening experience. In between the rubble and generations of garbage were modern beautiful three and four story homes that looked out over the Mediterranean Sea. Children would run up to us and beg for us to take their pictures. Teenagers watched us with interest and some even stopped us and said thank you. While the younger crowd seemed happy to have visitors, the older women who passed by did not appear to share in the enthusiasm. They weren't rude but it was clear that our presence wasn't quite as welcome to them.

The lock on our door. 

Our kitchen was adorable. Actually, our rooms were very nice too. We even had our own showers!

We walked down to the beach and it was just as mesmerizing as I remember it when we were in Haifa a few years ago. What made it even better were the ruins and mosaics, likely from the Byzantine Era, and purposefully covered by locals trying to preserve it because there was no money to properly excavate it. We walked around the fishing huts and watched the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea before heading back to the guesthouse.











At 7:30 we were escorted down the street to have a family style dinner in the guesthouse owner's home. The dinner was absolutely fantastic (sorry Jason I didn't get a picture - we devoured it in seconds!) and the conversation was very interesting. In our party we had our guide, Ayala, a student and former sergeant in the IDF, another girl from Germany who spoke ten different languages, a woman from Australia traveling on business, and another from Italy.

Tomorrow we will be heading to Cesarea Maritima, an ancient fortress built by none other than King Herod himself. I've enjoyed my time here in this quaint Arab village but I can't say that I'm not looking forward to the next few nights in Nazareth.