Getting toasted in the Golan

When I was in Tzfat, I stayed at a youth hostel recommended by Lonely Planet that also happened to be a religious outreach organization - the stay was cheap, the staff were outgoing, and God was the constant topic du jour. For any number of reasons, some my fault, some theirs, I felt totally out of place. The people were sincere, well-intentioned, and genuinely nice, but, unfortunately, being there made my skin crawl.

The saving grace was the night watchman, the shomer, a fifty-something chain smoking ex-hippy from Seattle. He'd been in Tzfat ten years, spoke Hebrew with an unapologetically American accent, and was quite happy to have the job (employment rates in Tzfat suck; if you're not an artist, a rabbi, or a guide, you're going to have a hard time finding work). When I asked him for directions he responded with a five minute speech that went from detailed directions into a discussion of why the streets were so dirty to a history of Tzfatian politics. This, I thought, is my people.

I have a friend who had spent the summer in Israel learning about wine at an Israeli winery, and inspired by her blog, one of my goals this trip was to visit some Israeli wineries. After hanging out talking to the shomer a few nights in a row, I not only had learned a wealth of information about Tzfat, I had also gained a companion for my trip to wineries in the Golan.

The shomer and I went to a few wineries, but the most interesting was the Dalton, a kosher winery not so far from Tzfat. We arrived early Friday morning to the pleasant visitor center, a wood paneled affair with an elegant, craftsman feel. Gourmet cheeses were spread out to taste, and wines lined the counter, punctuated by that occasional graceless accoutrement of wine tasting, the spitbucket. Oddly, there were no other visitors, and the guide offered to take us on our own private tour. I think they mistook the shomer for my own personal guide and me for a wealthy tourist. With a private tour on the table, I wasn't about to correct any mistaken identities.

The tour was great, and the wine tasting that followed, given in a private room at the guest house, was even better (the 2004 Cabernet reserve was my favorite, with the 2004 Merlot select a close second). I told the guide I was driving, and the shomer was trying to hold back as well, but neither of us did very well. We were both pleasantly toasted by the end.

We took a long walk after that, and spent the rest of the day driving around the Golan, during which time I got to hear some of the shomer's many stories about living in Israel in the seventies and surviving both the Yom Kippur war and the most recent war with Lebanon this past summer, when Tzfat was rained upon by Ketyusha rockets.

Some of the stories I would definitely like to share, but I will save them for a future post.