Meeting an Angel

In the afternoon the next day, we set out by bike for Nazareth. We were unsure of out route, distance and time it take us to get there. Our only map at this point was the rental car map that Oliver had given us. But we decided to stay along the coast for as long as possible. The ride was nice. Just north of Tel Aviv we stopped on a beach and watch the sun set. We found a dirt path and continued north. In the town of Hertzliya we stopped again. Our pack racks were suffering miserably from the bumpy ride and it would be necessary to rearrange them if we were to continue. Evan and I were standing outside the entrance to a boardwalk when a man biked up to us and asked if we were touring. He spoke excellent English and was very pleasant. He introduced himself as Guy and said he had done the same thing last year, biking all over Israel from the north to the south.
"It is a great thing to be a tourist in your own country," he said. "Sometimes I just get the urge to ride the bike then I'm off. Sometimes for a week, or a month or whatever it takes." Guy has also biked in Europe, the eastern US and South America.I thought I had met my Israeli counterpart.
We inquired about the best route to Nazareth and showed him our map. He took a quick look at it and told us we would never make it with that. "The scale is too small and this only shows the major roads. If you want, you can follow me to my house, about 20 minutes away and I will give you my map. It would be an honor for me to let you have it." We said okay and then he offered us food and a shower as well. We had just eaten and had been on the trail for only 3 hours so we politely declined. "I understand," Guy said. "You do not yet feel worthy of a shower."
On the 20 minute ride to Guy's house, both of our racks began to fall apart and it was really difficult to keep our packs on the bicycles. When we finally made it to his house, he told us that he had a set of bike saddlebags that we could borrow. I felt like once again a fortunate godsend had fallen upon us.
Inside, Guy made us some juice and fed us watermelon he had left over from a party. "The national dessert," he called it. He made us relax on his couch while he looked for his map and saddlebags. Evan and I could not stop looking at each other while he was in the other room rummaging around. We just kept smiling, thinking about our good fortune. When we returned to the couch, Guy had a fold-out laminated map of Israel on a 1:250,000 scale. It showed almost every road and quite a few trails. He spent the next half an hour translating the names of towns and roads along the way from Hebrew to English. Then we exchanged Evan's pack for his saddlebags, lightened some of my load and tightened down my pack on the rack. I felt confident now that we could make it with this arrangement.
It was very good to meet Guy. When we told him of our plan to eventually travel down into the West Bank, he only expressed a slight hesitant warning. "There is a lot of talk about the risk and danger but in reality not much ever happens. I would not do it but I do not think you have to worry much. It is your decision, your adventure but still, be careful.
"There is a conflict. We do not need to talk politics about it. I am sure you are aware. There is not much trust between Israelis and Arabs, especially those in the occupied territories."
This was one thing that I was beginning to notice. Israeli Jews did not refer to it as Palestine or even the West Bank. It was always the occupied territories. Still to this day I have not heard one Israeli Jew refer to Palestine as anything other than that.
When Evan and I were standing on his fromt steps ready to bike back to the beach and camp for the night, I asked Guy if he would like to come with us.
"Yes," he said. "But no, I will see you again." We said our goodbyes and rode away. I felt like I had just met an angel.