TRAVEL|ISRAEL
Why I’ll Never Go to Israel Again
Let me tell you
I had never planned to visit Israel. It certainly wasn’t on my bucket list of countries. But, because I fly on my frequent flyer points, I had the choice of flying back to Australia from Portugal via Tel Aviv or via Frankfurt-Dallas-Fort Worth -LAX-Sydney-Brisbane. That’s a bloody long way!
What the hell? I’ll fly via Tel Aviv-Bangkok-Sydney-Brisbane — a much shorter flight. And I’ll check out Israel while I’m there for a couple of days.
Ben Gurion Airport
I had been travelling for almost 24 hours — Lisbon-Frankfurt-Athens-Tel Aviv — so was a bit tired and cranky. It had been a long day and many airports.
As we came into Ben Gurion Airport, the skies opened — thunder, lightning and rain! And of course, the plane stopped in the middle of the tarmac and we had to be bussed to the terminal. The whole planeload of passengers fitted onto one bus! I should have seen this storm as an omen of things to come.
Customs put everyone through the third degree with their incessant questioning, so what should have been a 5-minute process took much longer. I started chatting to a young Aussie from Adelaide who’s been travelling for the past two years and is just on his way back home after just visiting Iran and Jordan. No wonder they picked on him!
After collecting my bags, a young UN guy from Congo showed me to the cash machine. He had calculated approximately how many shekels I can get for my last 140 euro — 650 apparently so I drew out 600, and headed to the taxi rank. He had said it should be about 100 shekels but was in fact a fixed price of 167 because it was after midnight.
The taxi driver was born in Tel Aviv, but lived in Chicago for many years, before returning here. He dropped me off at Momo’s Hostel, where I was greeted by a young girl who asked me for payment — 650 shekels. I only had 433 left after the cab fare, so luckily they accepted credit card, otherwise, I’d be washing floors as payment for my stay here. There was no lift, so she helped me carry my massive suitcase up one flight of stairs to my room. All I want is a bed somewhere, far away from the cold night air, but did I get it?
Momo’s Hostel
My visit did not start well and it only got worse. I had booked this hostel three months after my darling cat Momo died, purely for sentimental reasons. I should have taken notice of its 5.3 review score on booking.com, although many guests had given it excellent reviews.
It was the tiniest room I had ever stayed in (and I’ve been to New York City) and freezing cold. The room itself was narrow — there wasn’t enough floor space to open my suitcase — and the single bed was tiny maybe 2-foot wide (about 2 inches on either side of my hips!), definitely not enough room to roll over and not fall out of bed onto the cold, hard tiles. The curtains had seen better days, and the walls were filthy. I showered — the hot water took more than 5 minutes to come through — so by the time I actually got into the shower, the entire bathroom had flooded and was running out into the bedroom, which must have lower tiles. Now, not only was the floor cold and hard, but it was also wet!
I sat on the bed, drying my feet with the one small towel I had been issued, before putting on my thermal bed-socks and trying to sleep, but sleep would not come. I was shivering with cold so I reached into the top drawer and found another blanket and finally settled down to sleep, thinking, if one solitary creature crawls on me during the night, I am outta here, whether I’ve paid or not. God only knows how, but I finally fell asleep, probably from pure exhaustion.
Tel Aviv
I woke up with my eyes caked shut-— I thought I had conjunctivitis — but remembered it was dried tears. I waded to the toilet, dried my feet and got back into bed. I was prepared to put up with this shitty cold wet room until I spoke to my daughter Stacey who convinced me I was paying too much to put up with a wet floor, and to at least ask for a mop and a new towel. Interestingly this was the most expensive hostel accommodation I’d had during my ten weeks trip around Europe.
I went down to reception and explained the situation. The male receptionist sent a girl up immediately to mop the floor, and he said he would get someone to fix the bathroom. I thought “that’s a major job — you’ll have to either lower the tiles in the shower or raise the tiles in the bedroom” but all I said was “It’s ok, there’s a shower just across the hall I can use. I won’t use my private one.” I am pretty easy to please especially when I’m travelling.
He offered to move me to the room next door, which was identical to mine except smaller! My suitcase wouldn’t even fit in there at all! I went back down and told him I couldn’t have that room because my suitcase didn’t fit. He hadn’t realized it was actually smaller, so then offered me the double room! Yay! It’s not huge, but the bed is comfortable, the curtains are intact, and there’s even a wardrobe! But it’s still freezing cold! What I wouldn’t give for those slippers and hot water bottle I left with my airbnb host in Portugal!
My voice has returned, but I was still coughing like a smoker, so thought I’d try to see a doctor and get some antibiotics to knock it on its head before the flight home. The guy at reception tried calling a local doctor but it kept going to voicemail. I went out exploring the local area. I bought two pastries and an iced coffee from the little supermarket next door and thought I’d try to find a park bench to sit down in the sun and enjoy my little picnic. First I found the American Embassy, just round the corner, then the beach! No wonder it’s so expensive here! This is the American tourist area! Dozens of hotels and hostels all within a stone’s throw of each other, and so close to the beach. Summer holidays for Jewish Americans!
I sat down on the beach enjoying the delicious pastries and the sunshine before heading back to see if the doctor had been contacted. No luck, so he tried another. Yes, he could come in two and a half hours, so I collected my camera and headed out again to take a few photos of the beach. I wasn’t quick enough though as the rain came pouring down again, but I braved it anyway. It soon cleared- I walked down the beach and round a few blocks, before returning to book my tours at the desk. I was planning on the Massada and the Dead Sea tomorrow, and Jerusalem on Saturday before my flight. Best laid plans. Dead Sea tour is cancelled tomorrow because of the rain, so have booked that for Saturday, although it hasn’t stopped raining so that might not happen at all.
The Bad Experience with the Doctor
After all this exertion, I returned to Momo’s to lay down to have a rest before the doctor came. He examined me and told me I had a viral infection and would not prescribe antibiotics — he gave me Sudafed! The whole point of paying 490 shekels ($125!) was to get antibiotics! And then he left without giving me the (expletive) receipt I need to claim on my travel insurance! What a jerk!
And another with the Chemist
When I went to the chemist to get the Sudafed, he tried to tell me all I needed was Vitamin C. I smiled sweetly and left. Who do they bloody think they are!
Dinner
I decided to call into a local café for some early dinner. Traditional home-cooked Israeli food was advertised on the window, so I thought why not? The vegetables were done differently, but it was chicken schnitzel, the same as I can get at my local pub for $10. It cost 52 shekels, which wasn’t bad, but he asked for a tip! The cheek of him! They must be used to American tourists tipping!
To say this has been a culture shock after Portugal would be an understatement. My local area is filled with hotels, hairdressing salons, and money change places. But tomorrow I’m heading to Jerusalem where I hope to see a different side of Israel. I just had a Sudafed, and am getting sleepy. The tour picks me up at 7.15 am tomorrow so I need an early night anyway.
Day Tour to Jerusalem
As you know, I’m not the type of person who enjoys being on a tour bus but surely I can do it for a day?
I didn’t sleep well until I got on the bus! I was sound asleep before we had left Tel Aviv, but not before I’d heard some history from our tour guide, a woman at least 70 years old, possibly older, but bloody fit! She was in and out of that bus like a teenager.
Our first stop was Mt Scopus, to take a look over the city of Jerusalem. No colour here. All the buildings must be built out of the local granite, which makes the city look very drab. Even the Jewish cemetery on the side of the Mount of Olives looks dull and boring. There were only 5 other people on the bus.
Our next stop was the Holocaust Museum where we were allowed almost 2 hours. I loved it — I didn’t realise I knew so little about the Holocaust. The Hebrew word, Shoah, is also used to describe the genocide carried out by the Nazis. I think it has made the Jewish people the way they are today. I saw many men openly crying as they walked through the displays, audios and videos, which were more than sad — actually shocking to witness man’s inhumanity to man.
Next stop, lunch. Lunch was at a restaurant in an old monastery, and was buffet style, but not very enticing, and not cheap. I had a piece of chicken and some veggies, which were swimming in oil. I ate the chicken, but only tasted the veggies. The bread was flatbread, but it was dry and stale. I’ve been spoiled in Portugal!
Because so many branches of Christianity share the same church, nothing is allowed to be changed without the agreement of all the others. This Status Quo came into effect in 1757, I think. There’s an old wooden ladder leaning up against one of the high windows. No one knows why it’s there, but no one’s allowed to move it because it was there before 1757!
From here, we walked down through the Armenian Quarter to the Jewish Quarter, and then finally the Muslim Quarter, stopping at the stations of the Cross in the reverse order. The rain was coming down hard now, and the narrow paved streets soon became rivulets. Our guide took us into several shops, trying to get us to buy scarves for 180 shekels. I don’t need another scarf! Out of nowhere jumps the scarf man from at least several shops back, and tells me this is his shop too! I tried on a peasant blouse but was so tight I thought I was going to burst the stitching, but he exclaims it fits perfectly! To make matters worse, our guide backs him up in his opinion. It is way too small! And 100 shekels (about $25- not cheap!) Further down the street, I see identical scarves to the 180 shekel ones for 20 shekels. Why do I feel they are trying to rip me off?
Finally, we arrive at the Western Wall and walk on through to the Wailing Wall. I was just about wailing by now! My feet were saturated and were getting icy cold. I just wanted to get back to the bus and change into dry socks and shoes. (I had taken the precaution of bringing my boots in case it rained!) Did I like Jerusalem? Not really.
Back to Tel Aviv in the pouring rain, and my dry little room — I can’t say warm, because it’s freezing again without my body in it to heat it up.
Day Tour to the Dead Sea
I’m flying back to Australia tonight so I packed all of my belongings except my togs, towel and sarong, and headed down for breakfast. (A cup of coffee and a croissant is usually provided.) But even that wasn’t forthcoming as it was 6 am and breakfast is not available until 8 am on Saturdays.
I was off on tour with Alberto on a big red bus. I was the first pick-up and we hadn’t gone far before I was asleep again. I swear I can sleep anywhere now. Alberto spoke in English and Spanish and it was in the long-winded Spanish part that I fell asleep. I stirred at Jerusalem, and promptly fell asleep again. When I woke up, we were in the desert but there were date palm plantations to break up the monotony. Apparently, (the family from Melbourne told me later) he had made fun of my sleeping. They really didn’t like him. The grandmother is going to call the tour company and complain about him. I didn’t think he was that bad, but he was quite arrogant. He called me Australia the whole day, yelling my name when I came out of the toilet even though I had been nowhere near the allotted ten minutes! He was nasty man. I didn’t like him one bit.
First stop, Masada. I knew nothing at all about this place apart from King Herod built it. He was the Roman-appointed king of the Jews and was universally despised. Seventy years later, a group of Jews retreated to the top of this mountain to escape the cruelty of the Romans. They held out against the Romans for six years. The fortress looked like it was impregnable, but the crafty Romans used thousands of slaves to build a huge ramp up to the top of the mountain. The 967 Zealots, as they are called, foresaw their inevitable capture, and committed suicide to avoid slavery. Even today, they take Israeli troops up to the top of Masada and say, “Masada, never again” or something like that. Basically, they will never be slaves to another race again. What with this and the Holocaust stories I heard, it’s no wonder the Israeli people are the way they are. It’s deep in their psyche to never kowtow to others, but it makes them come across as rude and arrogant and superior, especially the men.
Next stop, Ein Gedi Spa and the Dead Sea. I was given a locker key, so changed into my togs and headed down to the beach. Since the spa was built 30 years ago, the Dead Sea has retreated 2km so what used to be a 30-second walk from the spa to the beach is now a 30-minute walk, or you can catch a little cart pulled along by a tractor, which is what I did, but not before trying to warm up in the thermal hot water from the open-air showers — a nice back massage. It was rainy and quite cold with only togs on.
It was advised to leave your sandals on, and I know why. The salt has crystallised along the edge of the water and is quite sharp to walk on. The two Argentinians and I braved the cold and walked tentatively into the water. I thought it would be warmer but it wasn’t freezing, and I quite soon got used to the temperature. Now to float — oh, that was easy — what was difficult was regaining one’s footing on the bottom. My feet kept wanting to float! It was like floating on jelly that wasn’t quite set. I reckon if it were any saltier, you’d be able to walk on the surface! What a marvellous experience!
Back on the “train” to the indoor spa. Beautiful hot sulphuric but salty thermal water, made it very easy to float and relax. 15 minutes was the recommended maximum but I stayed in for half an hour. I’m a seasoned spa girl now!
I sat out in the warm sunshine waiting for the group to assemble. Of course, it was bright sunshine now after I’d been in the sea! The Melbourne family joined me and were telling me this was their very first overseas trip. The father had wanted to come to Israel his whole life! I didn’t want to disillusion him with his enthusiasm, but I just couldn’t share it. Admittedly, I had enjoyed the Dead Sea, but Jerusalem left me cold, and Tel Aviv was worse! It’s probably the only country that I’ve ever been to that I haven’t wanted to return to. I’m sure they won’t miss me.
I was no sooner back on the bus than I was asleep. I think the coughing must be tiring me out. I stirred to take one last look at Jerusalem and then slept all the way back to Tel Aviv. I woke up to “Momo’s” and clambered down from the bus only to find they had dropped me a block away. I started walking and Alberto yelled out, “Australia! The other way!” I was glad I didn’t give him a tip. I don’t think anyone did. There mustn’t be any sort of pension here as both our tour guides were in their seventies.
Final thoughts
Israeli tourism is set up for rich American Jews, not for poor Aussies who are renowned non-tippers. And me even more so as I rarely have cash and don’t believe in tipping unless I receive excellent service and I got none of that in Israel. So if you are an American and a Jew, by all means, go to Israel. You’ll be treated like royalty, but if you’re not, you’ll be treated like a second-class citizen.
They do nothing for nothing — you have to pay for every single thing. For example, I had paid a small fortune to Momo’s for a 3-night stay, but they still wanted to charge me 12 shekels for a shower before I came to the airport, consequently, I boarded the plane smelling of Dead Sea salt and sulphur! I had to pay 5 shekels to have my luggage stored for the day! I carried it down the stairs myself (actually with the help of a guest returning very drunk at 6 am). All they had to do was keep it in a locked room. This hostel was AUD70 a night — my budget allows for a maximum of AUD50.
The food was average and expensive and I’m not a fussy eater at all and a lot of my fun travel experiences revolve around food. Maybe I’d been spoiled by a couple of weeks in Portugal with cheap but delicious food and wonderful wines?
It’s a Mecca for Jews, and Christians carry on about it being the Holy Land and all that, but really? Maybe I was just too sick, too tired and over-travelled (it was my last 3 days of a 10-week trip) to enjoy its glories, but I won’t be giving it another chance. There was one positive experience— floating in the Dead Sea — but now I’ve done that-— I won’t be doing it again.
Israel was never a place high on my bucket list — or on my bucket list at all in fact — but I had the choice of a flight home from Tel Aviv or a flight from Frankfurt via Dallas-Fort Worth!
