I didn’t want to leave Israel. Not now when the world hates us. Not when there are endless flight delays, and no one knows what tomorrow might bring.
Especially not to go to Greece – a country that deported its Jews to Auschwitz in World War II. On my last trip to Athens, in a sadly empty Jewish Museum, I learned that the once robust Jewish population in Greece of about 75,000 had dwindled to approximately 5,000 Jews.
But my American son was coming into Crete, ironically to decompress from a tour of Poland and Auschwitz, so my husband and I decided to meet him there. Traveling along with a plane load full of Israelis, watching some of the younger ones rudely cutting lines and behaving badly, it suddenly occurred to me – we are all ambassadors.
No matter where we travel, whether or not we are “identifiably” Israeli or Jewish, whether we accept the job or not, each and every one of us is a representative – and it is important to be aware of it.
“F*** the IDF” said graffiti on an electrical box as I trudged up one of Crete’s many uphill streets. “F*** Zionists” was blasted across a billboard near the airport. “Free Palestine” messages decorated the other side of the road.
‘I was reminded of my identity everywhere I went’
Although I only saw three instances of graffiti in my 48 hours in Crete, I was reminded of my identity everywhere I went and with everyone I spoke to, as a representative of my people.
Israelis can be raucous, outspoken, and loud, and like most, they are ready to party, especially on vacation, but now, more than ever, I felt compelled to rein it in and remember – we are, each and every one of us, ambassadors for a greater cause.
Whether on line at an airport, checking in to a hotel, walking on narrow crowded sidewalks within a rush of other tourists, or enjoying a spa treatment, travelers should be keenly aware of the “tourist tightrope” we tread. We are being observed, judged, and measured – as a tourist, but more importantly as an Israeli.
That means even if you don’t do it at home, put garbage in the bin, clean up after yourself, and exercise good manners everywhere and with everyone – even when people seem impolite to us.
My kippah-wearing husband and son were gazing out at the beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean when they were approached by a gentleman from Denmark. They exchanged pleasantries, and he asked where my family was from. My husband acknowledged that he was from Israel.
“Some members of my family have big problems with what we are seeing on the news about Israel,” the tourist said. “We saw a story about a Palestinian family that had been living in their home for 45 years and got dragged out of their house by the IDF. It seemed so tragic.”
My husband asked for context – was the family in a legal habitat? Was it brought to a court of law? The Danish man didn’t know. My son, who is a lawyer in the US, spoke about different laws that may govern disputed residential habitats. Together, they explained that watching footage, most likely taken by advocacy groups with a particular agenda, doesn’t necessarily reflect the entire story – and can be easily taken out of context.
The gentleman listened attentively. No one lost their temper or raised their voice.
Then he told my family that when Israel was attacked in 1967, he was a medic in the Danish army. He said he was so moved by his feelings for Israel that he was ready to go and help defend the country. Fortunately for everybody, that war ended quickly and victoriously, but he regretted never getting the chance to assist Israel.
“The television and social media are set-ups for bias,” was my husband’s takeaway from the encounter. “I believe most people are open-minded, as this man was. I may not have convinced him to change his mind, but perhaps the next time he watches TV, he might realize there is another side to the story.”
“People in Greece respect our tourists,” Maria, a massage therapist at the Intercontinental Hotel, told me. “Crete goes dark in the winter, and we work hard to please people during the summer tourist season. I’ve met lots of Israelis, and we hear things about Israel. Meeting nice ones who talk to us helps us understand the situation better.
“I can’t imagine living with sirens and missiles,” she added. “Running for shelter along with my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter would be a terrifying experience.”
My revelation from the short trip was twofold.
First, I realized that even in these uncertain times, when I dread traveling, every Israeli must understand the responsibility of carrying Israel’s message to the world.
Second, traveling enables us to learn, grow, and connect with people we would never meet otherwise.
While it pulls us far out of our comfort zones in so many ways, it also allows us to accomplish far more, both for ourselves and for Israel, than we ever could from behind our keyboards.
