The Minoan Palace of Knosses in Crete
The ruins have reconstructed the site to show what the original looked like 4,000 years ago
Nick drew this for the guestbook at Gerokolas Villas
Yannis' Supermarket
Yannis and ScottWednesday, July 15, 2009
Creta images
The Minoan Palace of Knosses in Crete The ruins have reconstructed the site to show what the original looked like 4,000 years agoNick drew this for the guestbook at Gerokolas VillasYannis' Supermarket Yannis and Scott
We don’t work like this…
Olive orchards are everywhere on Crete; row upon row stretch as far as the eye can see. We have been using cut olive branches for the BBQ. In fact when I first asked Yannis, our local supermarket owner for charcoal not only did he not carry it he didn’t know what it was. The olive tree is a hard wood and when dry is perfect for cooking so why buy charcoal.
We take our little Hyundai (the cheapest car the rental company offered) throw it in reverse and then first gear for the dirt drive out of our villas at Gerolakos to the automatic steel gate reminiscent of Israel. It slowly slides open as I hold the car in first ready to move on to the gravel road. I need a running start with this car to be able to navigate the slope up and then down to the main road. Turning right we pass more olive groves, a backhoe stuck in what appears to be a permanent position on the side of the road and then several goats who wonder around eating everything in sight. The goats seem to know about Greek drivers and do not venture past the shoulder.
A couple hundred meters down the road is where Yannis’ supermarket is among a couple of Tavernas and a few other shops. Stavaremos is about 10 kilometers from the nearest tourist center and consequently the stores are more for the locals here. It seems everywhere we go in Greece, whether it’s in Athens, Hydra or Crete stores are always open so I asked Yannis what his hours were and he said he opens at 730 in the morning and closes at 1030 at night. Work is a way of life for the store owners. Family and friends come and go, some stay to talk or watch TV or play cards or help at the store. Yannis is about 30 years old and is single. He works the entire 15 hour day six or seven days a week depending on how busy it is. His brother, also Nick, or father or mother or sister spots him for an occasional day off. He closes the store only four days of the year.
The supermarket in Greece is not necessarily very big. The definition does not seem to be about size but rather variety. Yannis’ store is about 1500 square feet and offers local fruit and vegetables and has a butcher shop among other grocery and household goods. Yannis’ father is bringing down the meat cleaver on half a carcass slicing off loin chops. Is that lamb I say? No Yannis says its pork. I’ll take four chops and he disappears for awhile to reemerge with the chops wrapped up in paper. The place is packed with all kinds of people talking in Greek, passionately, waving their arms…its common. In fact I don’t think they talk in any other way. I circumvent the store looking for things to eat. Ah…frozen chips. They don’t call them French fries and they are everywhere, believe me when I say that the one thing that is constant in this world we have traveled is the multitude of places that offer chips. They even stick them inside the pita with Gyros here. This is a very fortunate occurrence because chips are an essential part, no, the staple of Nick’s diet. Pork chops and chips…ok we got dinner. Top it off with a bottle of Coca Cola and it’s a complete meal. The Coca Cola is by the way made with cane sugar not corn syrup and it makes a difference. When Nick eats his meat and chips, I have been eating barbequed tomatoes, onions and peppers with meat, some feta cheese and of course washing it all down with Coca Cola.
Nick went to the store the other day and Yannis told him that he had a very nice dad. Later Nick said that he learned from watching me interact with people that I was to him kind of goofy (which he didn’t particularly want to emulate) but that my demeanor invited people to be friendly and open; that I didn’t care so much about being cool as much as being inviting. It does not get much better than that.
When I first came into the store Yannis thought I was Greek…ok so now Nick and I are both Greek. I am not sure what constitutes a Greek look but maybe it has something to do with fitting into the pace and rhythm of this place. The heat, the deep blue sky and ocean and the olive trees brimming in the sound of cicada seem to all work together in casting a spell, a spell that puts me somewhere between relaxed and not wanting to do anything at all.
We take our little Hyundai (the cheapest car the rental company offered) throw it in reverse and then first gear for the dirt drive out of our villas at Gerolakos to the automatic steel gate reminiscent of Israel. It slowly slides open as I hold the car in first ready to move on to the gravel road. I need a running start with this car to be able to navigate the slope up and then down to the main road. Turning right we pass more olive groves, a backhoe stuck in what appears to be a permanent position on the side of the road and then several goats who wonder around eating everything in sight. The goats seem to know about Greek drivers and do not venture past the shoulder.
A couple hundred meters down the road is where Yannis’ supermarket is among a couple of Tavernas and a few other shops. Stavaremos is about 10 kilometers from the nearest tourist center and consequently the stores are more for the locals here. It seems everywhere we go in Greece, whether it’s in Athens, Hydra or Crete stores are always open so I asked Yannis what his hours were and he said he opens at 730 in the morning and closes at 1030 at night. Work is a way of life for the store owners. Family and friends come and go, some stay to talk or watch TV or play cards or help at the store. Yannis is about 30 years old and is single. He works the entire 15 hour day six or seven days a week depending on how busy it is. His brother, also Nick, or father or mother or sister spots him for an occasional day off. He closes the store only four days of the year.
The supermarket in Greece is not necessarily very big. The definition does not seem to be about size but rather variety. Yannis’ store is about 1500 square feet and offers local fruit and vegetables and has a butcher shop among other grocery and household goods. Yannis’ father is bringing down the meat cleaver on half a carcass slicing off loin chops. Is that lamb I say? No Yannis says its pork. I’ll take four chops and he disappears for awhile to reemerge with the chops wrapped up in paper. The place is packed with all kinds of people talking in Greek, passionately, waving their arms…its common. In fact I don’t think they talk in any other way. I circumvent the store looking for things to eat. Ah…frozen chips. They don’t call them French fries and they are everywhere, believe me when I say that the one thing that is constant in this world we have traveled is the multitude of places that offer chips. They even stick them inside the pita with Gyros here. This is a very fortunate occurrence because chips are an essential part, no, the staple of Nick’s diet. Pork chops and chips…ok we got dinner. Top it off with a bottle of Coca Cola and it’s a complete meal. The Coca Cola is by the way made with cane sugar not corn syrup and it makes a difference. When Nick eats his meat and chips, I have been eating barbequed tomatoes, onions and peppers with meat, some feta cheese and of course washing it all down with Coca Cola.
Nick went to the store the other day and Yannis told him that he had a very nice dad. Later Nick said that he learned from watching me interact with people that I was to him kind of goofy (which he didn’t particularly want to emulate) but that my demeanor invited people to be friendly and open; that I didn’t care so much about being cool as much as being inviting. It does not get much better than that.
When I first came into the store Yannis thought I was Greek…ok so now Nick and I are both Greek. I am not sure what constitutes a Greek look but maybe it has something to do with fitting into the pace and rhythm of this place. The heat, the deep blue sky and ocean and the olive trees brimming in the sound of cicada seem to all work together in casting a spell, a spell that puts me somewhere between relaxed and not wanting to do anything at all.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Singing Cicada and Watermelons with Seeds
After the highly socialized environment of Hydra where cafes and shops stay open from early morning to midnight every day, we came to the very rural town of Stavromenos near Rethimnon on the island of Crete. Crete is the largest of the Greek Islands and its size makes it hard to understand the core for me. Heraklion is a large city and Stavremos is a rural village. One thing is for sure there are many creatures that live here.
During the day and night the Cicada cricket makes its shrill song so loud that it’s hard to hear anything else but not impossible. The occasion of a bird twitter or an owl hoot will rise above the Cicada song. The heat here is strong and the ocean deep blue from our little country bungalow. We are surrounded by olive orchard and an array of desert plants and flowers. The house is made with stone and mortar vintage 1800’s similar to the construction in Hydra. It has a timber roof structure and knotty pine ceiling. With electrical outlets and switches buried in the walls I suspect that it might have been built much more recent than the vintage look.
Our host is Lefteris Plutinakis who is probably in his mid thirties of slight build and light complexion. His family owns the farm where we are staying. Advertised as Agra Tourism if you come at the right time they put you to work picking olives or making cheese. “We have no milk to make cheese” said Lefteris. “You can try olive oil…here, and let’s drink to your arrival with this liqueur we make…here” and pours three shot glasses. “If you need anything I go away for two days. My mother she will care but she no speak English very good.”
A watermelon overwhelms a straw basket on the kitchen table. Lefteris runs out to get a business card which depicts the location of the villas to the local taverna and “supermarket”. We arrived via taxi ride prearranged by Lefteris with a local taxi driver. Elias and his brother Michalidas are blue eyed and also light complexioned. They grew in Stavromenos. They each work 12 hour shifts, Elias from 4 PM to 4 AM and Michalidas from 4 AM to 4 PM. It’s a good thing because driving in Creta is even crazier than Israel. A two lane highway is used like a four lane highway with the shoulder for slow traffic and the center divider for passing. We arrived at the villas at midnight having a little trouble hooking up with Elias at the port. Our boat, a kind of floating shopping mall called Superfast arrived in Heraklion at 10 PM.
The villa comes equipped with a swimming pool, more like a large hot tub. I jumped in to the warm water and noticed a couple of bugs floating on top and a frog leaped out. Nick found a lot more including a suicidal Cicada and I got out and came inside where I cut open the watermelon and found that it had seeds like the watermelons of old. It was very sweet but you had to take your time at eating it.
During the day and night the Cicada cricket makes its shrill song so loud that it’s hard to hear anything else but not impossible. The occasion of a bird twitter or an owl hoot will rise above the Cicada song. The heat here is strong and the ocean deep blue from our little country bungalow. We are surrounded by olive orchard and an array of desert plants and flowers. The house is made with stone and mortar vintage 1800’s similar to the construction in Hydra. It has a timber roof structure and knotty pine ceiling. With electrical outlets and switches buried in the walls I suspect that it might have been built much more recent than the vintage look.
Our host is Lefteris Plutinakis who is probably in his mid thirties of slight build and light complexion. His family owns the farm where we are staying. Advertised as Agra Tourism if you come at the right time they put you to work picking olives or making cheese. “We have no milk to make cheese” said Lefteris. “You can try olive oil…here, and let’s drink to your arrival with this liqueur we make…here” and pours three shot glasses. “If you need anything I go away for two days. My mother she will care but she no speak English very good.”
A watermelon overwhelms a straw basket on the kitchen table. Lefteris runs out to get a business card which depicts the location of the villas to the local taverna and “supermarket”. We arrived via taxi ride prearranged by Lefteris with a local taxi driver. Elias and his brother Michalidas are blue eyed and also light complexioned. They grew in Stavromenos. They each work 12 hour shifts, Elias from 4 PM to 4 AM and Michalidas from 4 AM to 4 PM. It’s a good thing because driving in Creta is even crazier than Israel. A two lane highway is used like a four lane highway with the shoulder for slow traffic and the center divider for passing. We arrived at the villas at midnight having a little trouble hooking up with Elias at the port. Our boat, a kind of floating shopping mall called Superfast arrived in Heraklion at 10 PM.
The villa comes equipped with a swimming pool, more like a large hot tub. I jumped in to the warm water and noticed a couple of bugs floating on top and a frog leaped out. Nick found a lot more including a suicidal Cicada and I got out and came inside where I cut open the watermelon and found that it had seeds like the watermelons of old. It was very sweet but you had to take your time at eating it.
Ein Hod Part 2
We were late because it took so long for us to make the stained glass. Hagai and Vik were going to show us around Haifa but as it turned out Vik’s mom was coming by train to visit and they had to pick her up so our time was limited to less than two hours. We had spent the previous evening at the Ein Hod Café where Hagai was waiting tables and Vik, Nick and I had dinner. It was Indian food night at the café and Hagai had prepared a good portion of it. Hagai is one of those people with a high level of energy and efficiency in everything he does. Of the thousands of interviews and personnel hires I have made in my career there is a handful of people you just know intuitively will be a great worker. Hagai is one of those people. This afternoon we went to the restaurant next door to the café and over a spread of Middle Eastern foods, hummus, eggplant, grilled meats, rice, olives, pita, tomatoes and cucumber we picked up the conversation from where we left off the night before.
Joined by two of Vik’s friends late in the evening we were discussing the differences of life in Israel and in the United States. We sat outside in the courtyard where the hot day still lingered but a breeze made the night air cool. Cats and dogs wandered in and out looking for handouts or to lie on the cold tile floor of the café’s courtyard. The mosquitoes were out in force and cigarette smoke danced around our tables. This was without a doubt one of the most laid back settings we experienced in Israel and it was a great change of pace for us. We stayed late that night.
This afternoon the same dogs and cats were hanging out and flies swarmed the food as we sat outside in the shade. Nick looked a little disdained by the number of flies on his chicken but hunger pressed him ahead. Vik recalled growing up in Jerusalem, fearful every day of the threat of a terrorist bomb in the public market or on a bus or in a café. She moved downwind so her cigarette smoke would not blow on us. What were they going to do after graduation, Vik with her master’s in art and Hagai with his bachelor’s in photography? It’s been tough making things work with both of them going to school. The hope was that with their new degrees they could create opportunity to live without going into more debt. They are quickly finding the options are not there and they have little hope of being able to make things work in Israel. Hagai had a better opportunity before he went to school working as a DVD and CD distributor. Vik despite a very responsible job at a museum is not making enough to make ends meet. So they are considering moving out of the country, the UK or US maybe or New Zealand.
It would cost about $300,000 to buy a house in Ein Hod a cost way beyond Vik and Hagai’s foreseeable income. They would have to apply to the community and be accepted to live there even if they could afford it. They both feel their chances for success are better found elsewhere.
They were not the first to say to me that life is difficult in Israel. In fact I heard this quite often in my conversations with Israelis. It was in part explained to me that this is a new country that has grown and continues to grow quickly. Construction seems to be going on everywhere, from highway repairs to new public buildings and private housing developments. All of this seems to stretch the infrastructure and improve it at the same time. Like the US, Israel is constantly pressing the boundaries of success. It is not a laid back country. Even as a tourist you can’t help to see and feel it. In fact if anything it is a country on the edge of new technologies in high tech and bioscience. It could be said that the lack of opportunity for Vik and Hagai is equally common in the US for someone with a degree in art. But unlike the US, art as is life in Israel is also on the edge, underscored by unending fear and uncertainty of impending conflict.
Vik shared with us her Master’s project which is a multimedia art piece borne from her impressions and artistic interpretation of the Lebanon war in 2004. A very personal vision of soldiers with bags tied in a noose around their heads in the woods surrounded by innocent looking dogs, Vik recalled her fears of not knowing where Hagai was as he served in this campaign and amid public complaints regarding soldiers who had no idea what their commanders were planning or doing.
After Vik and Hagai left, Nick and I went out to dinner at Dona Rosa, definitely a non-kosher Argentinean restaurant and afterwards went back to the café to listen to a Spanish guitar player and singer who was joined by several other musicians and a woman singer in a jam session. We spent the next day touring the art galleries and the Dada Museum. For the moment we were taken away from the urgency of Israeli life.
Joined by two of Vik’s friends late in the evening we were discussing the differences of life in Israel and in the United States. We sat outside in the courtyard where the hot day still lingered but a breeze made the night air cool. Cats and dogs wandered in and out looking for handouts or to lie on the cold tile floor of the café’s courtyard. The mosquitoes were out in force and cigarette smoke danced around our tables. This was without a doubt one of the most laid back settings we experienced in Israel and it was a great change of pace for us. We stayed late that night.
This afternoon the same dogs and cats were hanging out and flies swarmed the food as we sat outside in the shade. Nick looked a little disdained by the number of flies on his chicken but hunger pressed him ahead. Vik recalled growing up in Jerusalem, fearful every day of the threat of a terrorist bomb in the public market or on a bus or in a café. She moved downwind so her cigarette smoke would not blow on us. What were they going to do after graduation, Vik with her master’s in art and Hagai with his bachelor’s in photography? It’s been tough making things work with both of them going to school. The hope was that with their new degrees they could create opportunity to live without going into more debt. They are quickly finding the options are not there and they have little hope of being able to make things work in Israel. Hagai had a better opportunity before he went to school working as a DVD and CD distributor. Vik despite a very responsible job at a museum is not making enough to make ends meet. So they are considering moving out of the country, the UK or US maybe or New Zealand.
It would cost about $300,000 to buy a house in Ein Hod a cost way beyond Vik and Hagai’s foreseeable income. They would have to apply to the community and be accepted to live there even if they could afford it. They both feel their chances for success are better found elsewhere.
They were not the first to say to me that life is difficult in Israel. In fact I heard this quite often in my conversations with Israelis. It was in part explained to me that this is a new country that has grown and continues to grow quickly. Construction seems to be going on everywhere, from highway repairs to new public buildings and private housing developments. All of this seems to stretch the infrastructure and improve it at the same time. Like the US, Israel is constantly pressing the boundaries of success. It is not a laid back country. Even as a tourist you can’t help to see and feel it. In fact if anything it is a country on the edge of new technologies in high tech and bioscience. It could be said that the lack of opportunity for Vik and Hagai is equally common in the US for someone with a degree in art. But unlike the US, art as is life in Israel is also on the edge, underscored by unending fear and uncertainty of impending conflict.
Vik shared with us her Master’s project which is a multimedia art piece borne from her impressions and artistic interpretation of the Lebanon war in 2004. A very personal vision of soldiers with bags tied in a noose around their heads in the woods surrounded by innocent looking dogs, Vik recalled her fears of not knowing where Hagai was as he served in this campaign and amid public complaints regarding soldiers who had no idea what their commanders were planning or doing.
After Vik and Hagai left, Nick and I went out to dinner at Dona Rosa, definitely a non-kosher Argentinean restaurant and afterwards went back to the café to listen to a Spanish guitar player and singer who was joined by several other musicians and a woman singer in a jam session. We spent the next day touring the art galleries and the Dada Museum. For the moment we were taken away from the urgency of Israeli life.
In Memory of Celia Ensler
My Dad with his older sister Celia in March 2009Celia passed away at the age of 97 last week
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Artists of Ein Hod Part 1
Ein Hod is about 15 Kilometers south of Haifa in Israel. We were fortunate to stay with stained glass artist Bob Nechin and his wife Sue during our stay and had the added benefit of knowing Jake’s daughter Vik whose Master’s project was shown recently as part of a young artist’s exhibit. Vik’s husband Hagai works at the Ein Hod Cafe while also going to school to earn his Bachelor’s in Photography. It was a unique opportunity to understand firsthand the community from different perspectives.
Carol had arranged beforehand for Nick and I to take a class in stained glass making. The 5 hour class (Sue said Bob always runs way over) allowed a great deal of time to talk and get to know one another.
Bob and Sue have resided in Ein Hod for 30 years. Bob, American born went to West Point during the Vietnam era and graduated among the top students in his class. Presented with the opportunity to do anything he wanted in the military he chose a Masters program at Stanford. Opposed to the war he soon became part of the anti war movement in the San Francisco Bay Area. For Bob the Vietnam War was an intuitive and specific disagreement and unlike other protestors not an anti-war philosophy. He was introduced to stained glass making in Berkeley, found his passion and never looked back. Not long after that he moved to Israel. Bob’s work has appeared in museums and has created significant work for public, private and religious buildings in Israel and abroad.
A very patient teacher, Bob worked with Nick and me first explaining the history of stained glass and then showing us the basic cutting techniques and tools. I chose from an assortment of designs that Bob had created for his classes and Nick created his own. While I thoroughly enjoyed the methodical cutting and shaping of the glass, fitting as precisely as possible the glass into position, grinding the edges smooth and lining them with copper tape, Nick later said this was not his kind of art finding it was a lot of work for the desired result.
I explained to Bob that I had been in charge of building a Synagogue and that part of this was managing the process of creating the artwork for the Aron Hagadash (Ark) and Ner Tamid (Eternal Light). We talked about the process of creating art for clients some who know exactly what they want, others who turn over total control to Bob and still others that work by committee. Bob has worked in all different methods and often acts as the Project Manager coordinating all the aspects of the art with the architectural elements. Since he had not done a Kaballah Tree of Life he was very interesting in the original design and final product for Beth Chaim Congregation. I explained that my wife Rebecca had designed the art originally as Torah Covers and that the design was executed by local California artists Michelle and David Plachte-Zuibeck. He felt the design was very suitable to stained glass and despite some of the challenges of making it all come together was also very impressed with the final product.
Bob is familiar with the politics of making things happen in a public forum. As Village leader in Ein Hod for a number of years Bob explained an interesting story about the Ayn Hawd Arabic village 1 kilometer up the road. (It should be noted if anyone is counting that Nick and I accidentally visited Ayn Hawd when among my now many driving misadventures I missed a turn.) Ein Hod prior to 1948 used to be an Arab village. Displaced from the original village resentment has been fueled by a lack of basic water, sewer and power services to the new Arab village up until 10 years ago. Ein Hod is among a number of similar villages used as an example for what has not worked very well in Israeli/Arab relations. Working with a local artist Evana Ratner in trying to mend relations, Bob helped initiate conversation with his Arab counterpart to smooth the way for Evana’s program of working with children in each village creating films about each other’s grandparents. This program and other similar efforts in Ein Hod has drawn some attention from the Guggenheim family and last year prompted a visit from Stanley Guggenheim who recognized Ein Hod and its significant contribution to the Dada art movement and efforts in Arab Israeli relations. The challenge is always present to bridge the human relation gap when so much animosity exists. Fear, anger and a terrible mistrust resides on both sides. Bob said that buses arrive all the time amid the frequent tourist trade in Ein Hod. But on occasion a bus arrives with an Arab delegation who tours the artist village taking photographs and notes and demanding the return of the village to the displaced Arab village up the road. The artist village of Ein Hod is generally made up of fairly open minded and liberal thinking people but to them the village belongs to the artists who live here now for more than 50 years. The hope is that perhaps as time passes and the older generation moves on the younger generation can find a way to open meaningful dialogue.
Carol had arranged beforehand for Nick and I to take a class in stained glass making. The 5 hour class (Sue said Bob always runs way over) allowed a great deal of time to talk and get to know one another.
Bob and Sue have resided in Ein Hod for 30 years. Bob, American born went to West Point during the Vietnam era and graduated among the top students in his class. Presented with the opportunity to do anything he wanted in the military he chose a Masters program at Stanford. Opposed to the war he soon became part of the anti war movement in the San Francisco Bay Area. For Bob the Vietnam War was an intuitive and specific disagreement and unlike other protestors not an anti-war philosophy. He was introduced to stained glass making in Berkeley, found his passion and never looked back. Not long after that he moved to Israel. Bob’s work has appeared in museums and has created significant work for public, private and religious buildings in Israel and abroad.
A very patient teacher, Bob worked with Nick and me first explaining the history of stained glass and then showing us the basic cutting techniques and tools. I chose from an assortment of designs that Bob had created for his classes and Nick created his own. While I thoroughly enjoyed the methodical cutting and shaping of the glass, fitting as precisely as possible the glass into position, grinding the edges smooth and lining them with copper tape, Nick later said this was not his kind of art finding it was a lot of work for the desired result.
I explained to Bob that I had been in charge of building a Synagogue and that part of this was managing the process of creating the artwork for the Aron Hagadash (Ark) and Ner Tamid (Eternal Light). We talked about the process of creating art for clients some who know exactly what they want, others who turn over total control to Bob and still others that work by committee. Bob has worked in all different methods and often acts as the Project Manager coordinating all the aspects of the art with the architectural elements. Since he had not done a Kaballah Tree of Life he was very interesting in the original design and final product for Beth Chaim Congregation. I explained that my wife Rebecca had designed the art originally as Torah Covers and that the design was executed by local California artists Michelle and David Plachte-Zuibeck. He felt the design was very suitable to stained glass and despite some of the challenges of making it all come together was also very impressed with the final product.
Bob is familiar with the politics of making things happen in a public forum. As Village leader in Ein Hod for a number of years Bob explained an interesting story about the Ayn Hawd Arabic village 1 kilometer up the road. (It should be noted if anyone is counting that Nick and I accidentally visited Ayn Hawd when among my now many driving misadventures I missed a turn.) Ein Hod prior to 1948 used to be an Arab village. Displaced from the original village resentment has been fueled by a lack of basic water, sewer and power services to the new Arab village up until 10 years ago. Ein Hod is among a number of similar villages used as an example for what has not worked very well in Israeli/Arab relations. Working with a local artist Evana Ratner in trying to mend relations, Bob helped initiate conversation with his Arab counterpart to smooth the way for Evana’s program of working with children in each village creating films about each other’s grandparents. This program and other similar efforts in Ein Hod has drawn some attention from the Guggenheim family and last year prompted a visit from Stanley Guggenheim who recognized Ein Hod and its significant contribution to the Dada art movement and efforts in Arab Israeli relations. The challenge is always present to bridge the human relation gap when so much animosity exists. Fear, anger and a terrible mistrust resides on both sides. Bob said that buses arrive all the time amid the frequent tourist trade in Ein Hod. But on occasion a bus arrives with an Arab delegation who tours the artist village taking photographs and notes and demanding the return of the village to the displaced Arab village up the road. The artist village of Ein Hod is generally made up of fairly open minded and liberal thinking people but to them the village belongs to the artists who live here now for more than 50 years. The hope is that perhaps as time passes and the older generation moves on the younger generation can find a way to open meaningful dialogue.
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