I am looking at the hauntingly beautiful Sea of Galilee surrounded by Judean hills. My vantage point is the balcony of the small hotel apartment where my daughter, Holly, my son-in-law Doug, my two grandsons Robbie and Jeremy and I are staying. It's difficult to reconcile reality with dream.

Thus far, four of our days have been spent in Jerusalem and four driving to towns bordering Syria, Jordan and Lebanon, through ancient ruins that include early Jewish settlements, Roman towns and Arab villages. We've seen Masada, Meggido, the Dead Sea, Nazareth and of course the Western (Wailing) Wall.

Our emotions have been torn asunder at Yad Vashem, the Isreali Holocaust Museum, at the end of which we walked out to a spectacular view of Jerusalem.

Our feet have trodden on soil that bears the prints of people throughout recorded time on this planet. It bears the stamp of trading routes where cultures have blended, clashed, and everything in between. We ate overlooking the oldest trading seaport on earth. The land is adjacent to the fertile crescent where early life, spent gathering food, was transformed to the beginning of its production and the basis of what we are today. It is the font of the three primary religions practiced on earth. It seems that all else that we know and do are ancillary to this incredible Israel.

We arrived needing to deal with an oft-occurring inconvenience: lost luggage. Through a series of mishaps bordering on a Max Sennett comedy, we managed to reconnect with it three days later. Once connected, we managed to keep on the move with sub-sets of this comedy which was, as one can imagine, overshadowed by the wonder around us.

As we took buses and walked around Jerusalem, we viewed what appeared to be a mad amusement park ride called ‘driving.’ With stalwart courage, we rented a car and Doug took to the wheel as we left town and headed for the countryside. This has become our temporary lifestyle in which we make frequent stops, take pictures, and become a part of history. Our roots deepen as a memory is being etched.

Israel: we have become a part of your conglomeration of people for two weeks. Joining us were Israelis, Orthodox Jews and a variety of other tourists. We moved with the flow—walking on sidewalks, trails, up hills and stairs, and driving on smooth super highways, not so super highways, cobble streets and dirt roads, some that just disappear. We ate Mediterranean and Israeli food—enjoyed falafel, shwarma pitas and rollups, and pita with a half dozen dips and spreads (often humus) that began each meal. We carried food purchased in open-air markets, ate in the hotel room and in restaurants. We could see cliffside homes where former desert has become verdant. Side by side are antiquity and high-tech modernity.

We walked and stood where ancient events occurred. We viewed ancient Jewish underground tomb burials, reminiscent of catacombs. We explored the remains of two amazing fortresses, in command of valleys, Masada and Meggido. Available to us were displayed sections of the Dead Sea Scrolls, as well as the caves in which they were found.

We not only viewed the sites, but literally felt where earthshaking events occurred. We became submerged in a place of ancient and modern wonders. We came to you, Israel, with voracious appetites, and we left you feeling sated.
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Born and raised in New York City, Marilyn Poris, PhD raised three children on Long Island. She now resides in Virginia.