And being a highly developed society, Israel has embraced the kind of thinking that stamps out any possibility of fun risk-taking: everything is fenced, padded, and fortified for your protection.

The best of Israel, is of course, the Jewish element, which is present in the sense of humour of the people, the adornments of the cities, and in the philosophies. The town of Safed, for instance, is a treasure of Jewish-inspired art and mysticism, which you won’t find anywhere else in the world.

Here is a selection of photos from our two weeks in the country, including a day trip to the West Bank.
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In Rosh Hanikra, the northwestern tip of Israel where families take a cablecar inside a seaside grotto, there’s a sign that reads informs you that Beirut is 120 kilometres away. This distance, if it weren’t for the barbed wire and armed guards, is valid only for birds.

To get to Beirut from here you would need to head in to Jordan, then to Syria, and finally to Lebanon, a total journey of more than 420 km, assuming you avoid an Israeli stamp in your passport, and the Syrian border guards fail to notice you crossed into Jordan from Israel.

As the Arab-Israeli conflict thrives along the Lebanese border, this sign is simply a memory of better days, when it was possible to pop into the neighbouring capital as a weekend trip for some good kafta and maybe some tail at a trendy nightclub.

Today, a line of buoys mark the border two kilometres into the Mediterranean, and a lonely Israeli patrol boat keeps a lazy watch on it.

That the distance sign still remains is admirable. If anything, it’s a monument to hope, that a time without rockets and bombs and militias and commando raids can yet come to exist, maybe within the lifetime of those Israelis and tourists who come to Israel’s north and must then turn around.

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The cablecar into the grotto. Lebanon is right behind the fence on the top.

I saw more types of sweets than savoury dishes. It’s an intimidating constellation. Here are a few of my favourites and where to find the best of each.

Sahlab

A deceptively simple blend of milk, sugar, corn starch and rose water, it’s thick, warm, and more comforting than your mama’s hot cocoa on a winter night. When cooled, it congeals like gelatin and can be spooned as a dessert. Get creative with toppings: cinnamon, crushed nuts, shredded coconut, etc.

Best one: El-Mina, Lebanon
This seaside suburb of Tripoli has a little shop that specializes in warm liquid treats. Go to the Christian souk and ask around for it.

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Kneffeh

The edible equivalent of an oily four-hand massage given by two Arab beauties with roses in their hair. Fresh cheese is baked under semolina cake and the whole thing is drowned in sugar syrup. Served on a plate or to go in a sesame flatbread, it should be classified as a dangerous substance. Thankfully, it isn’t.

Best one: Jenin, West Bank
There’s an unassuming sweet shop called Shalhoub in the central shopping area of Jenin. Unlike regular knaffeh, they bake it in vermicelli pastry. The cheese is fresh  and gooey and the outside crispy.

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Halawet al-Jibn

It’s not a cannelloni, it’s akawi cheese and semolina flour pressed into sheets and rolled with ashta cream. Although bland on its own, it resembles a lighter cheesecake once you douse it with sugar syrup.

Best one: Tripoli, Lebanon
The Hallab family of Tripoli is famous for sweets. Lore says that after a nasty fight, the three Hallab brothers split up the family business, each running their own sweet empire. They are all fantastic, especially their cream-based sweets like halawet al-jibn.

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Halva/halawa

Whether in the Hebrew or Arabic domains, this dense, crumbly sesame paste is delicious on its own, topped with nuts or as a sweet dip with pita bread. For my money, the Israelis do it best.

Best one: West Jerusalem, Israel
I don’t like endorsing rude pricks, but one seller in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda market makes perfect halva with a scary flavour variety:  coffee, passion fruit, pomegranate, and nuts are just a few. Must spend a minimum of 40 shekels. Look for his stall near the wine shops. And brace for hostile service.

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Arabic ice cream

On the first spoonful you notice that the ice cream of the Arab world is different. It’s gooier and gummier, almost like a taffy. A key ingredient is Arabic gum, a resin form the mastic tree (not to be confused with gum arabic, with is derived from the acacia tree). Try the Arabic flavour, which tastes of nuts, rosewater, and sesame.

Best one: Ramallah, West Bank
There are many reasons to visit the Palestinian capital. The ice cream is just another. Try Baladna on Main St.

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Kataif

It looks like a turnover, but it’s sweet and creamy. A crumpet-like pancake is filled with ashta cream, fried, and doused in syrup. Crispy on the outside, cool and buttery inside.

Best one: Damascus, Syria
Jasmatiyeh Street, which I dubbed the Las Vegas of sweets, has a line of shops offering fresh kataif. Try any of them.

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Namoura

You can spot this simple semolina cake in any sweet shop by the almond placed atop each cut square. That’s the traditional way. Some shops, however, add their own poetry by tinkering with the density and toppings.

Best one: Aleppo, Syria
The Aleppan version of namoura is the closest you’ll come to dark matter. You could power a hyperspace engine on it. It’s impossibly chunky, gooey, and layered with pistachios and cashews.

It’s a city where Muslims built a temple on the Jews’ holiest site, and where the latter must assent to a wall at its base. It’s the contested capital of two nations. It’s the capital of world history, really, contested by Eurasian powers for millenia.

Jerusalem is a crazy place. But really, with all that madness, what can you do but laugh at it all? That’s what local T-shirt designers do.

Click to see a photo gallery.

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