An Englishman in Israel

Jewels in the sand.

From a giant cushion of cloud I descend,

into evening sun-setting on the Middle East.

Blue into grey, into orange, into white

and finally falling back into blue.

Ground comes up to greet us as we seem to pass through tall bushy trees, …

… into what?

Had someone thrown jewels on a desert floor? Some gold, some silver, and some white 

against a back cloth of dark black and blue desert.

There are no jewels in the sand.

The streets of London never have been paved in gold. 

Fools gold.    No less.

But are there ants upon this desert floor now, 

moving precious jewels around from north to south, from east to west?

Small triangles of lines long lines and sometimes short, interconnecting triangles.

ribbons of lines seeking new lines but never finding them.

Bright lights pull small cars.

Small cars follow small cars that in turn follow more lights 

pulling small cars.

Houses seem to rise breaking out through desert floor.

Houses climb upon houses seeking better view for small ants while looking through windows 

of houses upon houses upon houses upon houses 

gathered in clusters to keep away smaller houses. Instead, small houses sprawl out like fingers 

to find more small houses, 

common houses to join as one 

co-operation of houses.

Flashes of brown, thrusts of green, clusters and patches of grey join black. 

Long lines of division 

of those who should go one way and of those who must go another, 

contrary-wise.

No longer ants moving on the jewelled floor  but people, seen to be searching for jewels.

Taxi ´to the hotel´  

Disappointed drivers look on before seeking solace in new passengers 

for their cars of white,  or black or red.

Dodgeming between tall houses competing for space on black grey surfaces following white lines, Lights compete with lights upon the thoroughfare,  while drawing people away from their intended route. 

We glide on, my driver and I 

to my house upon a house upon a house,  onwards, upwards  to the grey sky.

The air is warm.

Food smells appetising 

and quenching liquid slides down to slake my thirst.

 

Cafes, markets and football.

Today we stroll. Today we explore.

Today we are in awe.

We stare, we photograph, we buy.

We consume

this vivid, dry, breezy place. the streets, the avenues, the cafe's,  the markets, the sands, the sea  and

the museum of the bended spoon

Cafe's!

We ate in them, drank in them.

We dreamed in them, reflected in them, and reminisced in them, of wishes melted, dreams unrealised 

and how things could have all been different for better, 

or  for worse.

Wake up! move on!

Melancholy be gone! 

We have a whole country to explore

and only days left to do it!

In the markets, such colour.

Spices, fruit and clothes all shouting from stalls sky bright with Mediterranean hue

as sea waves rise,

racing each other to shore, 

driven by eastern winds 

noisy as an impatient advocate.

Rude to interrupt my thoughts but calming tensions baking in sunshine and sand.

One cannot but love its call

Strangers want to talk.

Where are you from, 

why come to Israel 

do you like music, football, good food?

Conversations skip along passing familiar sign posts ducking here, diving there, sometimes lost,

but everyone quick to offer a road out of the maze 

Football calls.

who is the best team?

what will be the best game to see?

How'd we get there?

I don't know

Hapoel Tel Avi FC , here we go!  

Drums beating, beating, beating while scarfs circle,  on arms raised in praise of stars

fingers jabbed the air,  menacingly rival supporters render in kind.

One nil to the H Haifa

We lower our heads in kind, with the Hapoel Tel Aviv

We're  $£1¥ and we know we are!

 

To Abu Gosh

We travel today to Abu Gosh, the humus  capital of the world

I yearn for the Arabic experience, of good vegetarian food 

Life on the other side from the luxury of the inside

Arabic structures differ from the Israeli style

Arabic houses at one with the nature of their environment,  soft, rounded, flat roofed, white Israeli homes,  

carried, pushed remembered from their eastern and northern locations, angular shapes, sloping roofs, large windows 

We walk, we explore,

we eat Lebanese food, talk amongst ourselves and to fellow patrons. 

Mancunians in Israel are a rare breed.

A soldier passes by.

Have you seen brutality whilst you have been here?

No!

but it's still early in the day. 

 

Halfa in the North and jazz in Tel Aviv.

Its Monday, 

Its a bus ride, train ride and  once more a further bus ride,  till I get to Halfa.

Welcome to the NORTHERN CITY of Halfa the sign hails.

Once a small fishing and agricultural town now a major city  importing and exporting to and from 

Israel

Many thousand citizens enjoy the benefits.

I enjoy the Bahari gardens. 

All nine tiers,

then a café for a coffee and a cake.

Happy birthday!

It's  only one month old.

Dusk falls, feet are weary, sugar levels low but Google quietly whispers, "jass."

Feet twitching, night lights shining,

Beit HaAmudim beckons.

It's only 700m, there's vegetarian food and home made 

J A Z Z

It's already busy. 

The girl at the door whispers, "30 Sheckles each please." 

I'm in! 

Music swings, played by a trio for standards.

Pictures of jazz musicians adorn the walls. 

Menu is hot,

JAZZ is cool Beer is cold.

"I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven 

and so much in love with you!"

 

Eastern Tel Aviv.

Tuesday morning; leisurely, but light, middle eastern breakfast

Post-card to mail,

a free walking tour of Tel Aviv to check out,

cash to be extracted from a local, friendly ATM machine ........  “what do you mean, 6.5% withdrawal fee !?”

No such thing as a free lunch

aka walk,

my father told me.

Faust walks in Tel Aviv and penance was about to be taken.

We are dropped at a diamond centre, no walking yet.

Diamonds are displayed before us

Behold the colours, clarity, composition and size

Perhaps you have a partner, or girlfriend, who might like one 

I reply, Kissinger like;

"A diamond  is a chunk of coal that did well under pressure."

The day is done,

sun falls, 

dusk arrives,

to take me back to Birdland.

 

Jerusalem calls.

Big day is here, 

Holy City calls and the Wailing Wall wails for me.

Catch a taxi, 

Catch a coach

Catch up on e-mails, ….

…. damn this scenery is good

Tour the city, ride the tram, high five that view

Deserts to the west,

Jorden in my sights

Ride to the east, 

Palestine 

Gate of Damascus 

end of the line

back to the centre

YMCA.

Unhitch my baggage

once more to roam

City walls beckon, Wailing walls wail, 

what a noise 

Market stalls greet you, 

Streets long, streets short.

New colour and smells on every corner. How are you? 

Where you from my friend?  Let me show you my shop!  I have bargains just for you. Jaffa gate, Jewish quarter, Muslim quarters 

Artists compound, serves them right

Thick coffee with sweets

Feet are throbbing, need a rest

YMCA beckons 

Refresh and reflect, important decision to be made, 

where do we eat?

YMCA restaurant draws us in, 

Arabic dishes, created with vegetarians in mind?

We discuss the Middle East question over dinner.

We conclude our perspectives in King David's hotel lounge across the road.

HQ once for the British Mandate, no less.

Took coffee on the terrace.

Played out our night in jest, 

of a mandate in vain,

of rulers long gone.

 

A day longer in Jerusalem.

Day two in Jerusalem,

Unique sounds reverberate across the city,

Impatient drivers, honking horns.

Ringing bells, calling the faithful. 

Calls to prayers, calling a different faithful 

Loud conversations from visitors, 

informing of the best buy at market stalls and shops

Interjections of market traders 

seeking to draw upon the tourists shekels.  Reality intervenes, rumours spread,  

a bombing in the Muslim sector!?

In Jaffa Gate Jewish women

dance and chant, 

We're Jewish!

We're here!

Get used to it!

gates are closed, no one leaves, no one arrives

Panic in the streets of Jerusalem 

Tensions rise arguments explode!

Later in the day the story is outed,

No bombing in the Muslim Quarter,

but the shooting of a Policeman,

elsewhere,

a car driven at a Policemen,

A knifing in Dobar,

a further Policeman targeted,

In short time and space innocent lives extinguished, others are scarred,

whether of friend or foe.

Trump's peace plan blamed,

martyrs created,

resentments resurrected,

prejudice procured

Let's try Bethlehem, 

a seemingly short journey away from the tensions?

No bus will take us there!

No trains are running through there!

Does it exist? Or is it existential?

How can Israel be one country when Bethlehem cannot be found?

 

Sabbath approaches.

A new dawn, a new day

An Arab breakfast in an Israeli home

Medacia City and the Dead Sea to be arranged

Tempting gifts in tempting shops

An afternoon of jazz on offer in what has become my second home,

A jazz jam in honour of The Bird, Charlie Parker, Be Bop star

Musicians, young and old(er), and audience members occupy the same fold

Staying on, 

chewing the cud,   

sharing stories, 

swapping e-mails, 

promises to get in touch shaking hands,

hands shaking, 

exchanging smiles

dreaming new dreams

 

Martyrdom and a Dead Sea visit.

Early start, coach to catch

Masada is my first destination today

Located on the eastern fringe of the Judean desert,

Eleazar Ben-Yair, 

commander of the rebel community on the mountain, 

trapped within his own fortress

Last rebel stronghold in Judea, 

one of the first events of the great revolt of the Jews against the Romans

Flavious Silva waits patiently with an army of eight thousand

but Eleazar can withhold a siege for ten years or more

Stalemate!

Finally the wall is breached,

Victory for Flavious to be had,

but waiting till daybreak to enter the City and find, not a thousand hostages hostage,  but a thousand martyred, choosing death over slavery.

A testament to contemporary Arab and Israeli tales

The coach moves on to a more modern tale

Over extractions of minerals from the Sea of Sodium

Add a helping of global warming

We have the spectacle of a sea, that was never a sea, but a lake that is in danger of becoming a pond,

a dead pond!

A storm, narrowly avoided as rains reduce to drizzle and the air warms nicely to 20 degrees

My hope's to cover myself in mud, 

to bathe in the beauty of the Dead Sea

were again thwarted, this time by a residual sprawl,

No bathing allowed. 

But in I sneaked, up to my ankles no less, ah!

What bliss!

Back to my hotel in just over an hour, or more,

good speed 

Coffee and chat,

How was your day today?

Out to dinner? 

Time flies and Manchester calls,

Time only to explore and reminisce these hectic past days

 

Gifts and an encore.

Cafe call for breakfast,

"Yogurt, fruit, muesli, coffee black and croissant?" He asks.

I've become a regular, with ordinary tastes.

Check with fellow travellers. 

What plans do you have for today?

Join me at the Museum of contemporary arts. 

It's closed today says Google.

Maybe tomorrow,

before I leave?

Gifts for the family, what can I get?

Grandchildren, two, something humorous, but respectful too Daughter, son in law? Something sweet!

My wife, patiently waiting. Already sorted! 

It's secret. I cannot disclose.

Jazz tonight.

A finale to my stay?

No!

An encore to remember it by.

Eden Ladin Quartet, 

her instrument upright, 

strident, 

her keys set out in black and white

At first a trio with a moving atmosphere, Avishai Cohen joins, the Quartet.

His trumpet wails out its pain.

 

Farewell  Israel.

Today Manchester really does call, 

LOUDLY!  

must be there by 6.00

check in by 8.00,

flight at 8.30pm, 

Bus, train journey, flight 

Then it's all 'sorted'

One last walk,

to the north west of the city

Twice I go off track and twice I'm corrected 

Get a taxi I'm told, in a manner I'm used to now

Till a giant of a building,

armoured in concrete, 

keeping safe the city´s contemporary arts,  stands proudly before me.

So you found me brave traveller! 

Humbly, "yes." I reply. “May I come in?”

From its Zionist colonialist past,

through

to its present as a modernist capitalist accommodator

of Israel's past and presence

reflected in art

Sculptures stand defiant, 

Acrylic oils spread boldly on canvas, 

Lines dissect scoring a message of pain

The holocaust remembered, 

reflected in movement, 

underscored on a theme of Dylan

The answer my friends, is blowing in the wind, 

the answer is blowing in the wind

I'm blown out of the monolith, down its many steps, 

along Shaul Hamelekh Boulevard, 

On to Hamelekh George, 

Left down Allenby,

And back to the safety of Miami Beach, hotel that is.

I’m overwhelmed, over walked and over come

My time here is surely run

It's my turn now to run

Back to Manchester, 

football and family

Oh, but let's not forget jazz,

and it's part in the beating heart

of Beit HaAmudim, Tel Aviv, Israel

and Steve Bewick jazz broadcaster

and part time explorer.

 

 

February 2020.

On flight EZY1628 

Are we there yet!?  

 

 

Ver6.1