When I return to the Florentine Hostel, it is surprisingly touching how happy several of the hostel’s volunteers are to see me again. Especially Daniela from Finland. According to her original plan, she should already have been on her way to Jerusalem and further into the West Bank, a region with ongoing tensions. She had kept that plan very quiet because visiting those areas can sometimes create complications when leaving the country. In the end, however, she decided to stay

I travel south to the Red Sea resort town of Eilat . On the way, I stop at the Dead Sea and take the opportunity to go for a swim there as well. Floating in the Dead Sea is a unique experience. The water is so salty that you simply float effortlessly on the surface . Some visitors even cover themselves in the famous Dead Sea mud , which is believed to have therapeutic properties. The Dead Sea itself lies at about –430 meters below sea level , making it the lowest point on E

Josef and I decide to join one of the popular “free” walking tours of Jerusalem. The tour itself is technically free, but of course you are expected to tip the guide at the end. During the tour we also meet a German girl from our Florentine hostel, although she is staying at a different hostel here in Jerusalem. Walking through the narrow streets of Jerusalem’s Old City, we see the constant flow of people—pilgrims, tourists, locals, and religious visitors from around the worl

My days at Florentine Hostel in Tel Aviv passed quickly. A few long-term residents, a cozy terrace with sofas, and a steady stream of travelers created a lively social atmosphere almost all the time. During the day people would often go to the beach together, and in the evenings groups headed out into the city. The hostel terrace became a natural gathering point where people sat, talked, and shared travel stories late into the night. Over just a couple of days I met travelers

Since a Swedish guy named Josef from my Florentine hostel in Tel Aviv is also planning to go to Jerusalem, and we are staying in the same hostel there, we decide to make the trip together. At the hostel, Daniela has given Josef a nickname that annoys him a bit: “Arnold.” According to her, he looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger—and even speaks English with a somewhat similar accent. In the evening I sit on the roof terrace of the hostel in Jerusalem, watching the sun set over the

I land in Tel Aviv at half past midnight and join the long line at passport control. I have heard that sometimes young people traveling alone can be interviewed for up to two hours by Israeli immigration officials. The immigration officer begins asking questions. Officer: “What is the purpose of your visit?”Me: “Vacation.” Officer: “Where do you plan to go?”Me: “Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea…” For now I leave Jordan unmentioned, since it is known to be a country that has