Mobius, Michael and Krucoff make a death-defying, ear-popping journey from Masada to the West Bank to Tverya to Majdal Shams.
Krucoff and I lay claim to the Golan Heights.
In an unprecedented extension of both the Jewlicious/Jewschool sulha and the blatant Jewlicious/Jewschool Krucoff-whoring (just kidding, we love the guy on his own merits, not just for his big, hot media connections), sinister Jewschool overlord Mobius, Gawker mascot boy Krucoff, and lil’ ol’ me rented a car and embarked on a thrilling two day educational tour of the Holy Land, ranging from Masada, the pleasantly balmy last-stand outpost of anti-Roman-imperialist Zealots during the First Jewish Revolt, to the snowy peaks of Majdal Shams in the Golan Heights, the largest Druze town in Israel and a hotbed of pro-Syrian activity, and incidentally in possession of Israel’s coolest town name (Tower of the Sun, for those of you who either don’t speak any Arabic or have trouble identifying cognates).
Krucoff and Mo preparing to overthrow the sinister forces of Western imperalism from their stronghold in the Judean Desert.
We started our journey with a tour of Masada, where we educated young Krucoff on the proud warrior history of our people, and made an endless series of increasingly unfunny jokes along the lines of, “And if you look down there, you can see the remnants of the ancient Roman Masada Sound and Light Show.” We would have stayed longer and further cemented the boy’s budding Jewish nationalism, but Krucoff got a call from his lady friend, currently on some sort of bike trip in Israel, and we trotted off to tacky Dead Sea resort town Ein Boqeq to meet the girl who inspired a Lower East Side sheygetz to travel 6000 miles from the nearest good bagel in order to further his Jewish education.
After the requisite two hours of Jewish Geography, we piled back into the car and embarked on a long drive up the Jordan Valley through the West Bank to Tverya, or for you gentiles “Tiberias.” I would highly recommend the Jordan Valley drive. It was so stunning that Mo didn’t even give us a spiel about the inherent inequity of Israeli-only roads running through theoretically Palestinian territory within
rifle spitting distance of the Jordanian border and happy sunny cities like Jericho (heh, just kidding. Sort of).
After a meeting with Jewschoolite shamirpower, leading a Birthright trip docked at a Galilean kibbutz, and restful night in Tverya, we headed for a tour of the Galil and Golan, regions noted for the remarkable beauty of their landscapes when not pouring down rain and foggy, which it was. We stopped to take a brief tour of the Mount of Beatitudes, location of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, somewhat surly Brides of Christ and a rather nice gift shop, whose immaculately manicured seaside location further proved that the Catholic Church friggin’ owns all the good real estate in Israel. We continued to the Golan, an ancient volcanic plateau littered with crumbling Syrian bunkers, active minefields and somewhat bitter Druze. It also has Israel’s only cute Swiss-esque ski lodge and is notable for being really, really friggin’ cold.
Krucoff and I shiver in the Golan. Note snow-capped peaks. And would somebody please buy me shoes?
And then, as all good things must end, we started our journey homeward, which was mostly unremarkable save for driving into a bunch of sort of jittery soldiers in the West Bank which prompted Krucoff to give his mother (on the phone at the time) a heart attack by cheerfully announcing, “Mom, I have to go, we have guns pointed at us.”
And with that in mind, we at Jewlicious and Jewschool would like to bid Mr. Krucoff a fond farewell. He has returned to New York not only a man, but, one would hope, a little wiser and a little more leery of crazy people on the Internet who want to plaster his picture all over their websites. Krucoff! Come back and visit!