Traveling in the North, Part II: Im tirzu, ein zo agada

Officially being added to the list of things I would never have done at home and thus make Israel seem that much more amazing is the following story:

I arrived safely and uneventfully at the northern town of Kiryat Shmona with the intention of proceeding to Kibbutz Snir or the Banias National Park as a bus would allow.  Somehow I found out about this beautiful park with waterfalls, streams, and the ruins of an ancient pagan temple, and decided I must absolutely see this while in Israel.  But plans changed when I happened upon two young backpackers at the bus platform who were going in that general direction.  I told them I was planning to hike in the Banias, they explained they were embarking on a multi-day trek following portions of the Israel National Trail, and - surprise of surprises - they invited me to join them!  Despite how much I wanted to see waterfalls in Israel, a part of me urged "This is a great opportunity!  Screw your plans!  LIVE!"  And so I joined them.  The bus came and we were off.

The day's plan was to hike from Kibbutz Dan (the "Dan" of NaanDanJain Irrigation Systems) to Kibbutz K'far Gil'adi - 12 km and approximately six hours of fairly easy hiking on roads and through fields.  Unfortunately, my two hiking buddies were maybe a little too anxious, seeing as we got lost within the first couple kilometers.  Luckily, what they lack in navigational skills they make up for in kindness, perseverance, and optimism, so we only jokingly complained about the extra few kilometers we undoubtedly walked.

Though the roads and paths were often blasé and uninteresting, the scenery was anything but.  Fields and groves of wheat, avocado trees, orange trees, and more; hills and valleys with a few grazing cattle; mountains to the North and West with small clusters of homes nestled amidst them; and two streams to occasionally break the silence of the land.

As our shadows grew longer behind us we stopped more frequently in an effort to appease our increasing fatigue.  By the time we were within a couple kilometers of our destination we paused at a bus stop, happy to see a bench.  Thank goodness for that alluring bench, for had it not beckoned to us and had we not stopped, we might never have seen the car stop to drop off a hitchhiker, might never have considered our tired legs, might never have asked the driver for a ride, and might never have made it up the hill to their kibbutz -- and our goal.  Then, as if luck were not already generous enough, we were offed a room with beds and a shower for the night - all for free.

(This was incredibly fortunate for me because though I had planned to go to Akko after the Banias and possibly stay with a friend who lives nearby, it wasn't certain whether or not I'd be able to use her couch.  Thus, in accepting this random offer from a couple of strangers, my sleeping arrangements for the evening were magically secured.)

Having carried many a kilo with us all day, we were beyond blissful to put our stuff down and dine at a hummussia, a specialty hummus restaurant, for dinner.  Having never been to such a place before, I was amazed at this menu featuring a variety of tasty meals served in a plate of hummus alongside a heaping stack of warm pita.  I ordered hummus with fresh sauteed mushrooms and onions, and it was possibly the best hummus and mushrooms I have ever eaten.  Meanwhile, my friends ordered hummus shakshouka (remember when we made that?) and hummus with beans and other tasty things.

We went back to our room (though not before getting lost yet again), cleaned up and digested, then set out for the pub at which we lasted approximately 29 minutes before deciding we were far too tired to stay there.  So we left the pub and made our way back (without getting lost!), and promptly collapsed, each of us on a much more comfortable surface than any of us had expected for that night.

Throughout the day I kept wondering about this rather uncharacteristically spontaneous decision I had made to change my plans so drastically.  In some ways I was upset I didn't get to the national park which looked so beautiful and breathtaking in the photos.  But with every thought of the trip I missed, I came back to pleasant thoughts of the company I was with, the sheer experience of making friends out of strangers and doing something I would certainly never have done on my own.  Where did that little, urging voice come from at the bus station?  Surely that was not me.

"If you want it, it is not a dream"

While we were at the restaurant, I noticed a quote painted on the wall.  It was originally written by Theodore Herzl -- father of modern Zionism and one of the primary reasons for Israel's existence as a Jewish country.  "Im tirzu, ein zo agada" - If you want it, it is not a dream.  I remembered it from my days at summer camp where we always sang it after lunch on Friday afternoons.  And as I sat in that restaurant on a kibbutz in Northern Israel with two people who did not exist in my life 12 hours earlier, after having hiked nearly 15 kilometers on the Israel National Trail, after making a decision that was so utterly unlike any decision I would normally make, I looked at that quote and felt an understanding of it.  Total and complete comprehension.

"If you want it, it is not a dream."  It is the Optimist's Creed, a call for action and strength of conviction, and something we should all remind ourselves of daily.  For myself, I have always wished I could be more spontaneous, less uptight, and generally more willing to move with changing circumstances instead of fighting the universe.  And for years I thought "This is just how I am.  I cannot change that.  I will simply accept it."  But among the many things Israel has taught me, I have learned that oftentimes, what we deem impossible is simply our fear putting artificial constraints on a perceived reality.  Anything is possible.  I believe that is what that little voice in my head was telling me - that I need not be so certain of my plans and that I should take opportunities as they present themselves instead of caching them and perhaps inadvertently putting them out of reach forever.

Here in Israel, I am living the dreams I never even knew to want.