The soft, airy riffs of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” drifted around the top of the large dusty brown hill I was standing on, just outside Be’er Sheva, a city located in the Negev Desert in southern Israel. Out of breath from the hike up, I paused to listen until I located the source of the sound coming from a small concrete dome a few yards away.
Peering my head inside, I saw a man was standing in the center of the domed room, singing his heart out to the holes in the ceiling above him.
In less than 30 minutes, I was greeted with an impromptu acoustic guitar concert by three welcoming Israeli musicians who serenaded my fluttering speechless heart with Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” and “Heart of Gold.”
They were singing inside one of the many sand-colored land art sculptures built on top of the hill. The sculptures are named the Monument to the Negev Brigade and served as a memorial for Israeli soldiers.
Sunlight poured in from the large circular holes, casting round luminous ring shapes on the chilly stone floor. I was told they represent bullet holes.
Wrapped around the walls of the dome, dedications written in Hebrew honored soldiers who had perished in the 1948 Arab-Israeli War.
In less than 72 hours, I had flown to Tel Aviv, Israel and collected smooth, brown-speckled shells along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. I trekked 40 miles to the capital, Jerusalem, and got swept up with a glass of Israeli Goldstar Beer. I experienced the energetic night-life of the open-air Machane Yehuda Market commonly known as “The Shuk.”
Then, I paid 24 shekels — about seven U.S. dollars — to bus south into the Negev Desert to look for fields of red flowers that only bloom for two weeks during the Israeli winter.
Instead of finding the flowers, a friend and I found ourselves in the presence of an overwhelmingly generous soldier from the Israel Defense Forces.
Our 24-year-old host, Dana, was a Jewish immigrant to Israel from New Jersey. After making her Aliyah — "ascent" or "rise" in Hebrew, referring to the journey many Jews make to move to Israel — she joined the army and is now working on a confidential air force program within the military.
About an hour after meeting Dana, we were walking along the quiet Friday evening streets of Be’er Sheva to share Shabbat dinner with her friends.
Shabbat is Judaism’s day of rest, lasting from Friday at sundown until Saturday evening, and this would be my first observance of the weekly tradition.
As I am coming to realize more and more, the world truly is a small place. This idea was cemented in my mind when one of the first people I met at the Shabbat dinner was a fellow Hoosier who made Aliyah last fall.
After a few initial prayers sung in Hebrew, I enjoyed three hours of delicious salmon, vegetarian lasagna, laughs and great conversation among strangers turned friends.
We closed out the evening at one of the only open pubs in town, Rozza Bar. It's a dark, crowded place where I was given some great drinking advice by an Israeli patron, “Wherever you go, try the country’s traditional liquor.”
Israel’s drink, “Arak,” a licorice-flavored anise spirit that tasted more like candy than alcohol, was a great parting gift from Dana and her friends as the night came to a close.
I learned to say thanks, or toda, in Hebrew and thanked Dana for her hospitality, hoping to visit Israel again in the future.
