The Bulkhead in the Back Room:

Bullet ridden Syrian bunker in Golan Heights 

“Why is your laundry room door so thick” I asked.

I had been in Israel for less than a day and was just receiving an after dinner tour of the home from which I would be staging my month long visit to the country.

Cousin to my life-long friend and travel buddy Noah, Ori, had delighted my companions and I with tall tales of his days as a tank commander with the IDF over supper. Now that the kids were asleep and the Goldstar started to flow we enjoyed a tour of his home and the family complex in Kfar Vitkin which sits just outside of Netanya about a half hour north of Tel-Aviv.

“What do you think?” asked Ori in a tone usually reserved for addressing the foolish… I was at a loss.

Noah showing our position between the
Lebanese and Syrian boarders

“Here let me show you.” he said as he led me out the side door of the house and into the night. Standing in his front yard he pointed at a cluster of lights atop a small hill no more than a few kilometres away.

“This is the West Bank” he said as he casually waved a hand at the lights. “This is why my door is so thick… katyushas”

Then it dawned on me, the laundry room doubled as a bomb shelter.

That was my first experience with the reality that faces Israeli’s (Jews and Palestinians alike) every day, and it was sobering.

Evan, Noah and myself living large in Eilat 

Israel is an enormously friendly and beautiful country. It has something for everybody, eco-tourism, history, culture, food, and music. It has deserts, forests, and beaches that put the Mayan Riviera to shame.

It also has suicide bombers, rocket attacks, military checkpoints, minefields, and plenty of precision air-strikes.

Oh, did I mention it is still technically at war with Syria?

I was lucky enough to travel to Israel in 2007 the year after the 2006 war with Lebanon and Hezbollah and the year before the 2008 IDF invasion of the Gaza Strip.

While my memories of the trip are fond, I realise now just how pervasive the conflict is, it permeates my recollection of each aspect of the trip.

IDF Hummer on the road to the Golan Heights

While it is surprisingly easy to keep fear at an arm’s length when you are baking in the sun in Eilat, or to ignore the IDF tanks parked in intervals, cannons trained on the horizon along the Syrian border; the fact is not a single part of the country is untouched by impending bloodshed. Not even a family’s laundry room.

In Israel I visited archaeological sites, beautiful parks, religious places and amazing cities. I ate unbelievably delicious food (seriously some of the finest dairy products I've ever enjoyed) herd some fantastic music and met some fabulous characters.

I noticed this sign after "relieving" my bladder in the feild
OOOPS!

I also, visited bombed out Syrian bunkers, refuelled next to a Merkava Mark IV, felt the concussion of a far off explosion, was buzzed by F-18’s, witnessed an Apache attack helicopter leave base with a full payload and return empty, peed in a minefield (by mistake… yikes!), herd distant AK-47 fire and had more high powered small arms pointed at me than anybody should.

The fact is, nothing in that country is untouched by conflict, or the threat thereof. That said not a single person I met appears to live in fear. Bomb shelters are just par for the course in suburban communities, checkpoints are regular features of the roads, and guns are worn like purses. Sights that were surely strange for me, but not my hosts.

At the Western "Wailing" wall... do I stand out?

 The rhetoric remains, Israelis warned us of Palestinians and Palestinians warned us of Israelis, both in broad terms. But that’s all it seems to be at times, rhetoric. The same people keen to warn us about their domestic other, just as quickly sing the praises of their friends of the opposite persuasion.

I remember how one new friend derided Palestinians as a sort of verbal habit, but when our car got into a wreck (something that is almost inevitable in Israel) he quickly recommended the services of his buddy a body shop owner and Palestinian. He was dubbed “The best in the biz”.

My first night ended soon after coming face to face with the lights on the horizon. After a final swig and a warm handshake Ori popped into his laundry room and emerged seconds later with his AR-19 and a smile.

“Have a good sleep boys, I'm on neighbourhood watch tonight” he said. “Rest well!”