You never forget your first time in Israel — especially when the whole country feels like it's just taken a deep, collective breath. When my husband, Ilan, and I landed in October 2025, just three days after the hostages had finally been released, the air was charged — emotional, raw, and full of relief. It felt as if the country was exhaling after holding its breath for too long.
This was my very first time in Israel. I've designed ESRA Magazine with my sister-in-law Liora Blum for years from afar, but actually being here — seeing it, feeling it — was something else entirely. Ilan had been before to visit family, but this time he got to see the country through my eyes, and I think that made it special for both of us.
We started with the most perfect Israeli welcome: a big, noisy, food-filled Shabbat dinner with family. The table was bursting with dishes, everyone talking at once, and every time I thought I was done eating, another course appeared. It was warm, chaotic, and wonderful.
The next morning, we drove to Afula before sunrise for a hot air balloon ride. By 5 a.m., we were watching the balloon inflate, glowing orange against the still-dark sky. Minutes later, we were floating above the Valley of the Springs. The view was unbelievable — fields, kibbutzim, rivers, and hills dusted with morning mist. This was a rare moment because it's not often they have cloudy skies in Afula and here we were inside the belly of a huge cloud. We rose up and above it to unveil a pastel cotton candy cloud top merging with the glowing rays of a new day. The chatter stopped; the silence was almost spiritual. It felt like gliding through a dream.
The landing was a less calming experience. We bounced a few times off the newly ploughed land amid giggles and much excitement. To help us, four of our strongest men (my husband and brother-in-law included) were instructed to jump out and push against the weight of the massive, leaning basket, as the remaining nine of us held on. Then it was time for us to not-so-gracefully climb out of the basket and toast the success of our trip with a glass of pomegranate bubbly, a custom that originated in the late 1700s when balloonists offered champagne to frightened farmers whose fields they'd just happened to land in.
That afternoon, we swapped sky for water at Gan HaShlosha (Sachneh), where we swam in warm, turquoise pools surrounded by greenery. It was the perfect way to unwind — floating under the sun in a place that looks like paradise.
The next day was all about Jerusalem. We explored the tunnels beneath the Old City, peeling back layers of history one step at a time. The tunnel tour was an informative treat as we discovered how deep the Western Wall actually goes below ground level. Later, we wandered through Machaneh Yehuda Market — an explosion of colors, scents, and sounds. I couldn't resist buying spices, nuts, and fruit. That evening, we sat under the stars at the Sound and Light Show at the Tower of David, watching Jerusalem's story come alive on the ancient walls.
Then came the Dead Sea. I'd seen photos of people floating, but doing it myself? Completely surreal! You just lie back and… float, effortlessly. At sunset, we swam at Kalya Beach, where the sky melted into gold over the still, mirror-like sea. We spent the night at Kibbutz Kalya, where everything was spacious, peaceful, and full of charm.
The next morning, after spending a bit more time bobbing around in the Dead Sea, we visited Masada. I explored as much as the intense midday heat would allow. It's impossible not to get swept up in a history that's now nearly 2,000 years old. Looking down from above, seeing the foundations of the Roman camps that once encircled the fortress, overlooking the massive Roman-built ramp, and walking through the dovecote towers reminded me of a book I had read some years earlier, 'The Dovekeepers' by Alice Hoffman. What I remembered of the story now seemed to come to life.
With just 20 minutes left before closing, we rushed through the museum which explains much of the history of Masada and the life people lived there before and leading up to the siege. What I found most fascinating, and tragic was the display of 11 pottery shards uncovered during archaeological excavations. Each shard bears a name written in Hebrew, believed to have been drawn by lot to determine who would end whose life, explaining the mass suicide of the Jewish defenders.
From there, we drove south to Eilat, and that's where things got properly blissful during three days of sunshine, snorkelling and swimming with dolphins. The water was so warm it stayed perfect even after dark. We enjoyed our time together surrounded by sea, laughter, and precious family moments.
Back in Tel Aviv, I finally met Merle (ESRA Magazine's editor) and Myra (ESRA Magazine's webmaster) in person for coffee after years of working together remotely. It felt amazing to sit together at a little café and chat like old friends. Liora joined us, of course, and we also caught an exhibition by Judy Chicago. Later, we visited Hostage Square — quiet now, but still powerful, the big digital board still ticking the days, hours, and minutes.
We had lunch at Sarona Market, surrounded by Templar houses, lazy cats, and perfect autumn weather.
One of the most moving moments of the trip was visiting Yad Vashem with Ilan and my mother-in-law, Linda. The architecture, the exhibits, the weight of it all was emotional and unforgettable, especially with the knowledge that the Glazer family are so deeply connected to this part of history; Ilan and Liora's dad having lived in the Budapest ghetto as a child during WW2, and been on the Exodus ship.
And then came Linda's 80th birthday celebration, which we spent volunteering with Leket Israel. Wearing gloves and big smiles, we sorted endless piles of potatoes, onions, and corn destined for families in need. It felt good to do something meaningful together. Afterwards, we continued the celebration over lunch at a pastoral restaurant with good food, laughter, and gratitude all around.
Two weeks flew by in a blur of color, history, family, and sun.
I came to Israel for the first time not knowing exactly what to expect. I left with a heart full of memories, a phone full of photos, and maybe a little Dead Sea salt still in my hair.
