Notes From Everywhere

I arrived in Israel a few hours before my husband, which gave me the perfect excuse to spend the afternoon wandering through Old Jaffa Port by myself. We hadn’t seen each other for a few days and I wondered if he would recognize me with my new haircut.

(As it turned out… he didn’t.)

The sun slowly broke through the morning rain clouds, turning the Mediterranean Sea a brilliant shade of blue. People filled the promenade. Families strolled along the water, cafés buzzed with conversation, and fishing boats rocked gently in the harbor.

Old Jaffa immediately felt ancient.

Honey-colored stone buildings climbed the hillside, one seemingly growing on top of another. Wooden balconies leaned over narrow streets, shutters framed tall windows, and every turn revealed another staircase disappearing between centuries-old walls.

Instead of exploring the charming old town right away, curiosity got the better of me.

“I wonder what’s farther down the harbor?”

The elegant promenade slowly gave way to the working fishing port. The cafés disappeared. In their place stood weathered boats, piles of bright orange and green fishing nets, rusty chains, anchors, and equipment that had spent years battling the salty Mediterranean air.

I sat down near the harbor for a while and pulled out my notebook. It was the perfect place to simply sit and watch fishermen move quietly between their boats while visitors wandered past, stopping every now and then to admire the view.

As I headed back, an older fisherman called out to me from his boat. Somehow he guessed I was from Poland and invited me aboard, insisting on making me breakfast. It was already two o’clock in the afternoon. I laughed but accepted the invitation.

How often do you get the chance to have a meal prepared by a local fisherman in one of the oldest ports in the world?

I stepped aboard, set my backpack down, and sat on a colorful couch while he busied himself preparing food.

Then another man arrived with a young boy. Nothing dramatic happened, but something inside me quietly whispered that I should leave.

I picked up my backpack, apologized, explained that I’d forgotten I needed to be somewhere, and climbed back onto the dock.

The fisherman looked genuinely disappointed. As I disappeared into the crowd, I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed too. I had been looking forward to having a meal prepared by a local fisherman.

A little farther along I spotted the viewpoint I had been looking for. Across the harbor was the perfect panorama of Old Jaffa, but I couldn’t figure out how to get there. A fence blocked the entrance, so I asked a man getting ready to head out in his kayak.

“Is there a way to get out onto the pier? The gate is closed.”

He looked at me almost amused.

“Nothing is closed in this country.” He said.

I must have looked confused.

“A closed gate only means you’re climbing at your own risk.”

So I climbed the fence and finally found the view I had been searching for. Looking across the harbor, turquoise water and colorful fishing boats stretched out below while the skyline of Old Jaffa rose gently above them, its church tower standing high over the old town.

Not long afterward, Pavel finally arrived. This time we climbed the fence together, laughing the whole way. Then we wandered through the narrow streets of Old Jaffa, ducking into little shops and admiring handmade souvenirs. We even stumbled upon a tiny store selling cosmetics made with minerals from the Dead Sea.

As we left Old Jaffa that evening, our adventure was only just beginning. Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Masada, the Dead Sea, Petra, and the desert of Wadi Rum were still waiting for us.