The new old city of Nazareth

Jerusalem Post, Metro; June 19, 2008

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It's evening, and the narrow alleyways of the old Nazareth shuk look deserted except for a few children in jeans playing ball, women in headscarves carrying grocery bags, and European-looking backpackers meandering around as if they're lost. Dozens of metallic doors painted bright green line the corridors, shut with padlocks. Stone homes are patched up with cement to keep them insulated, their windows broken or sealed with plastic shutters. The only thing filling the shuk is the prayer call of the nearby White Mosque.

But there are pockets of revived beauty in the dilapidated shuk, also known as the Old City of Nazareth. Flower pots on a few sunny balconies supply spots of fresh color. Clean pavements and stairs are lit by fluorescent bulbs that were installed as part of the Nazareth 2000 project to refurbish the Old City for the millennium. In an alleyway once trodden by donkeys, a preserved Ottoman door protects the Fauzi Azar Inn.

A courtyard filled with pigeons leads to the lobby of this three-year-old hostel. Its sky-blue ceiling painted with pictures of cherubs holding bundles of wheat testify to the former glory of this 150-year-old Ottoman-era home. Guests lounge on oriental cushions near a wide window facing the dense shuk. Locals visit the inn just to get a glimpse of how a home in the Old City can be revamped into modern living quarters.

Maoz Inon, who opened the Fauzi Azar Inn, reached an agreement with its owners - the Azar family, whose members now reside in Syria - to renovate the home instead of paying rent, creating the type of hostel he himself, an experienced traveler, would have enjoyed. Thanks in generous part to the inn, the Old City of Nazareth is beginning to flourish.

"Optimism is back in town. We take [some] small credit for it," Inon says, with measured pride.

Inon, 32, looks like actor Woody Harrelson, with bright blue eyes and a happy-go-lucky smile. Exhibiting the same cheerful naïveté Harrelson displayed in White Men Can't Jump, Inon has proved that Jewish men can jump into the Arab capital of Israel, gain acceptance, and transform its cityscape.

"I don't present myself as Jewish," Inon said, "but as Maoz Inon, experienced traveler, entrepreneur and human being."

If he has his way, the Old City of Nazareth will become the most "happening" outdoor shopping center in the Galilee, with the refined charm of Tel Aviv's historic Neveh Zedek neighborhood and the bustle of the Mahaneh Yehuda market in Jerusalem.

A native of Kibbutz Nir Am near the Gaza border, Inon discovered Jesus's hometown when he and his then-girlfriend, now his wife, took a break from their jobs at high-tech companies in Tel Aviv to backpack through the country. Nazareth was a stop on the Israel National Trail, and Inon was smitten.

"It's a city with character and stories to tell, but it's not a postcard for tourists, like Acre or Jaffa," he says. "It's life. It's real - very authentic, very beautiful."

A mixture of idealism and capitalism has inspired him to go against the odds and found the Fauzi Azar Inn. "Tourism is a great tool to bring prosperity to neglected places where it's really needed," he says. "It works in an honorable way."

Walking past the colored walls, he recounts the history of the Old City.

Under the British Mandate, it served as a residential district for merchants, effendis (landowners) and government bureaucrats. After the War of Independence, the city absorbed Arab refugees from neighboring communities, some of whom moved into storage rooms.

Up until the 1990s, the Old City had developed a reputation as a bridal market, attracting shoppers from all over the Galilee. There are some remnants of its glory days as a bazaar. A fluffy, ruffled wedding dress that might have been stylish decades ago is prominently displayed in one window. Other stores show off their wares - jewelry, men's silk button-down shirts, fabrics.

But business in the Old City took a dive with the upsurge of malls and commercial franchises. Some shuk merchants blame the Nazareth 2000 project, which refurbished the sewage system, streetlights and sidewalks at the expense of shoppers' comfort. The city rebuffs that complaint.

"If we hadn't done what we did - that is, the renovation and restoration of the Old City in 2000 - I [believe] most of the buildings wouldn't be here now," Ramiz Jaraisy, Mayor of Nazareth for the past 14 years, told Metro in a phone interview. "The conditions of the buildings were very bad. We prepared modern infrastructure, renovated the roads there. Of course, the intifada had a negative influence on tourism, especially in Nazareth."

But in the past few years, Nazareth at large has been revived as a popular tourist destination. On the southern edge of the Old City, hundreds of pilgrims, nuns and priests flock to the Basilica of the Annunciation on the bustling Paul IV Avenue. Souvenir shops, shwarma joints and bakeries abound. Only tourists rarely veer from the standard site-seeing itinerary to check out the city's adjacent Old City, despite its past prominence.

"It's the heart of the city," Jaraisy says of the shuk, "the most important part of the city for historical sites and roots inside. It's a treasure for human heritage." The Old City serves as the centerpiece of the city's efforts to achieve recognition from UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Inon, meanwhile, is leading grassroots efforts to reconceptualize the Old City as the new hot spot for foreign tourists, as well as for Israelis. He commutes to Nazareth from his home in Binyamina, where he lives with his wife and two young children, to greet guests and also encourage locals to develop their own ideas for the shuk.

He stops at an open space featuring a small convenience store and a tailor. "I already envision a piazza," he says.

Touring the area with Inon, it's difficult to walk through the shuk without getting stopped by locals who shake his hand with a hearty "Salaam, Maoz!" With his brand-name Israeli sweater and bouncy step, he stands out.
We pass by Wisam Abu Sarem, a young man who has opened an espresso bar in front of an old-fashioned men's club where middle-aged men are playing backgammon.

We pass by a corner shop, its shelves filled with candy bars, cereals and canned foods. The owners are watching television, hoping one of Inon's guests will stop by for a snack.

"You must open," Inon exhorts Naaman Kawar like a motivational speaker. The Nazareth native is planning to open a pizzeria in an old frame shop. It looks like he still has a lot of work to do. The room is furnished with only a table. The only real investment seems to be a mural of a Nazareth street scene, painted by a friend. Another painting, of Mary, rests on an easel.

"I'm afraid to open," says Kawar, who already looks defeated. "There are no people here."

"It's very scary to open a business," Inon sympathizes. He recalls how it took over half a year to get a steady flow of guests at the inn. He thought of closing down right after the Second Lebanon War, which pounded businesses in northern Israel, but stayed afloat with government compensation. He persisted.

"Everyone is waiting for someone else to take the initiative and do something," Inon says. "From my experience, no one will do anything. I don't want to wait."

His "if you build it, it will come" attitude has worked. This past April was his most successful month yet. Every week, a new study group seems to choose accommodations at the inn, from Christians to Zen Buddhists. He's taken over old shops on the lower floor to add more guest rooms and a communal dining area.

"If we're experiencing a recovery, it's because of Maoz," says Kawar. "Everyone recognizes it. He gave courage to people to envision something."

Kawar is hoping to follow Inon's lead. "I have two huge homes here," he says. "I hope the area will grow so that I can take a loan, renovate them, maybe make a hostel, like Maoz's."

We turn into a busy vegetable market frequented mostly by locals.

Abu Ashraf, 53, greets us with his syrupy homemade katayef desserts, one filled with cheese, the other with walnuts. His restaurant, Diwan Elsaraya, is named after the castle next door that once belonged to Daher el-Omar, the ruler of the Galilee in the mid-18th century. Once a municipal office, it now stands empty.

"If we had 10 more Maozes, it'd be good," Abu Ashraf said after pouring us some Turkish coffee. Inon often directs his guests Ashraf's way. "I just look for the good people. Religion doesn't matter," Ashraf adds.

Inon sees every business in the shuk as a potential partner, but it took some time for the people in the community to warm up to the non-Arab's initiative. "Some people didn't believe this whole story - it's like introducing a foreign object to the body," said Abu Ashraf. "Naturally, when something new comes in, you're suspicious."

Inon didn't know too many people at first, but Abu Ashraf observed Inon's work and gave his "sponsorship," accelerating his acceptance by everyone else. Recently Abu Ashraf invited Maoz to his neighbor's wedding.

"He's smart. He respects people. People respect him. He deserves it. He proved himself."

The Nazareth Cultural and Tourist Association, a publicly-funded association founded in 1999, has duly recognized the potential of the Old City to become a leading center for commerce and entertainment. It is leading efforts, on the logistical end, to absorb new businesses.

"What you need to do is bring a different type of business," said Tareq Shihada, the director of the association, as we wait for lunch at the new Saj restaurant. "Businesses have a successful chance within the circumstances." He envisions galleries, clothing and jewelry boutiques, cafes, skin care shops, pubs, and restaurants. "I use Maoz as an example of someone who dreamed about something."

Saj is an example of the type of business Shihada hopes to attract - the restaurant is geared to both locals and tourists, it stays open late, and it mixes modernity with Arab tradition and hospitality.

A narrow stairway and arched doorway lead to Saj, but its sign colorfully attests to its modern intentions: "Fashion Food." The restaurant was co-founded by Amin Zayyad, a culinary pioneer in Nazareth who introduced gourmet Arab food with his former Zaytuna restaurant.

In building Saj, Zayyad and his partners gutted an old house and turned it into another gourmet restaurant with modern lines and leather chairs. Saj could easily fit into a trendy street in Tel Aviv.

"We looked at four to five places appropriate for a business," said Zayyad, "places where you can develop a center for leisure. We found this strip from Mary's Well to the shuk. We saw it has long-term potential."

If Saj could be judged by its food alone, it has a good chance of succeeding. We enjoyed delicious parsley-salmon salad, eggplant topped with flavored tehina, and chicken in yogurt sauce with fenugreek seeds - all served with classic Arab warmth and charm.

"I tell people here you have one commodity no one can compete with: Arab hospitality," said Shihada. "We don't need to teach people how to welcome people. It's built in."

Zayyad understands, though, how other locals might feel intimidated to venture into the city. "People are afraid to invest in the Old City. It's a big risk. Ambitious young people don't know to whom to turn to develop plans," he said. "It's lacking in Nazareth. With back up, Nazareth could be a very special center for going out."

To help counter such concerns by would-be business owners, the Nazareth Cultural and Tourist Association has partnered with the municipality and local centers for business development (Mati) to create a non-profit wing to assist entrepreneurs. Businesses will be exempt from municipal taxes in their first year of operation, and will be charged in 25 percent increments in subsequent years.

Plans are also underway to open an office in the Old City that will act like a real estate office. Part of the challenge in opening new stores is tracking down the owners of the buildings. Once a database of all available properties is created, a municipal liaison will match entrepreneurs with the properties. New businesses will be required to stay open until 10 p.m. as a means of turning the Old City into center for nightlife and competing with local shopping malls.

But some merchants think the city is taking too long. "The municipality always tells us about a five-year plan, but nothing happens!" cries Suleman Aywani, owner of a vegetable store.

To which Inon replies, "Individuals can make the change!"

Optimism doesn't seem to be carried into a few halls down from the Fauzi Azar Inn, either.

About two months ago, Nazareth resident Raida Saad opened a lingerie boutique. Her shop consists of a room with only a few racks, one for cotton nightgowns, one for silk negligees, and one for undergarments. Her original landscapes decorate the store's back wall.

Saad pulls out a black negligee imported from an undisclosed Arab country. It goes for NIS 380. "I have very special things," she says proudly, but then sulks. "Tourists pass by, they don't come in. Also, Jews who pass by don't come in. I swear, there are hundreds of people who take pictures near my store window. But they don't buy anything."

At Inon's suggestion she attached price labels to the items for foreigners used to fixed retail prices, "but then the Arabs stopped coming."

Opposite her, a jewelry store that's been open for 40 years is empty of customers. The owner glances at the golden hoop earrings, necklaces, and Star of David pendants. "I'd like to get new stuff, but still have trouble selling the old."

She looks out the window, wistfully. It used to be that on Fridays, the shuk was so crowded you couldn't pass through. "Now look, it's empty. But we have a beautiful city," she says.

Outside, retirees are sitting in chairs, not bothering to woo customers. They usually close their shops at 2 p.m. "You see, they're all old. They got used to it."

Inon, she says, has brought some life to the shuk, but a parking deficiency and traffic outside the Old City keep people away. "Tourists come to the church and leave," she says.

In Inon's opinion, these veteran shops can't last much longer without updating their wares to the Old City's newer vision. For them, he doesn't have too many words of inspiration.

"It's part of the circle of life," he says.

The French connection (hotel review)

Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; June 12, 2008

Catherine and Daniel Groner made aliya in March 2007 from the south of France with a dream: to create a mini- French oasis within Israel. They have succeeded with Villa Provence, a six-suite boutique hotel and spa in Moshav Manot, about 16 km. east of Nahariya.

The peach-colored two-story villa stands out in the hilly moshav, home to some 64 families. Dozens of plants and a small fountain fill the entrance corridor. The tabletops in the dining room, which also serves as the hotel's lobby, boast elegant earth-colored tiles. Antique French pantries stand against walls adorned with landscape paintings.

But the most scenic picture is located through the wide patio glass door: a bright blue pool and tanning deck surrounded by a lush garden.

Down the hall are two treatment rooms and a spa with a steam room and sauna. The jacuzzi is located outside.

The Groners' personal story of aliya is impressive. Catherine left her work as a corporate consultant and Daniel as an accountant and judge to realize their Zionist dream. This is his second marriage, her first.

"We opened a new page in Israel," says Daniel.

They scouted different communities in Israel until they came upon Moshav Manot. Most French olim, Daniel said, flock to the big cities, but they were intent on creating a suburban lifestyle similar to one they enjoyed in France. They came upon a home whose second floor once served as a guest house. As soon as they began remodeling, the Second Lebanon War broke out.

"We got our ID cards and war cards together," explained Daniel. "It was hard, but we didn't want to go back; we wanted to live in Israel." While the hotel was in construction, the couple lived in Nahariya while escaping to Tel Aviv when rockets started falling. Finally, the work was done, and in May 2007, Villa Provence opened.

Catherine applied her natural artistic flair to design the interior, with each suite designed in a different color scheme. I stayed in the Narcisse room, styled in white and silver, and felt like a French princess.

Rooms here are equipped with an LCD screen, DVD, stereo, Internet outlet, and mini-fridge. Conveniently placed on a small desk is a book of things to do in Galilee. French L'Occitane soaps, shampoos and moisturizing creams add a European scent to the bathrooms and spa.

Amidst all this luxury and elegance, only one thing was a little tough at Villa Provence: the lack of fuzzy warmth I have enjoyed as a guest at family-run log-cabin style tzimmers.

The Groners' living quarters are located through a glass door near the lobby, understandably off limits to guests.

When Catherine served me breakfast consisting of breads, Roquefort and feta cheese, cucumber and Waldorf salads, and a sunny-side-up egg, I didn't feel comfortable asking her to fetch me more water. When Daniel offered to take my luggage to my car, I declined; a former judge shouldn't be my valet.

I felt like I was interrupting the Groners when I wanted something - whether to inquire about a massage, or to figure out why the hot water in the spa's shower wasn't working.

Daniel explained that when the hotel is at full capacity, they hire outside help. But I am of the opinion that whoever attends such an expensive and well-groomed hotel should be treated like the VIPs the luxurious accommodations make them feel.

B&B with spa included (treatment extra): Weekday: NIS 1,000 per couple per night; Weekend: NIS 2,400 per couple for two nights; www.villaprovence.co.il; (04) 980-6246; (054) 308-1061. Children over the age of 16 are welcome.

Sex and the column

The Jewish Journal, June 5, 2008

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One of the first things I did when I arrived in my hometown of Los Angeles for the summer was to rush with my friend Lori to see "Sex and the City" on opening night.

We weren't the only ones.

The movie was sold out all over Los Angeles, but as committed fans, we made the trek to Manhattan -- Manhattan Beach, that is -- despite the current gas prices, to see the only 10:30 p.m. Friday showing available within a 30-mile radius.

The line, filled mostly with women, went around the block. I had gotten all dolled up in shiny golden (knock-off?) Kenneth Cole heels, brown leggings and a golden wrap -- just to sit in a movie theater. We stood for a half-hour in the cold beach weather -- me in my heels and Lori wrapped in a blanket she found in her car -- but we didn't mind. The mood was cheerful and expectant. It wasn't the sluggish anticipation we experienced in line for the new "Indiana Jones" movie along with fathers and sons.

We passed the time examining everyone's shoes and chatting with a 50-year-old mother of five kids who'd brought her 18-year-old daughter to see the movie.

Already, during the previews for romantic comedies, we were all cheering and jeering. We weren't strangers -- but sisters -- all connected by our familiarity and sympathy for our mutual best friends: Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha.

But we didn't only come to see fictional characters, but ourselves; the characters are more like Freudian concepts -- there's a bit of each of them in each of us. Sometimes we channel our inner Miranda -- cynical and hard. When we feel sappy and romantic, we channel the prudish Charlotte. And then there's Samantha -- raunchy and horny. And, of course, there's Carrie -- intelligent, open and a bit neurotic.

When I first started writing singles columns, I was living in Tel Aviv, Israel's big city. I titled my column "Sex in Tel Aviv" and described my wish to write about a life as fabulous as that of the show's syndicated columnist, Carrie. With all its hip bars and cafes, Tel Aviv seemed suited to Carrie-esque adventures, only I didn't make as much money or go out as much as she did, and, most of all, I never developed a clique of fabulous girlfriends.

Even in Tel Aviv, generally sheltered from Israel's security issues, I faced predicaments unique to a Jewish American Israeli: surviving a terrorist attack in Sinai, going out on a date with a repressed ultra-Orthodox Jew and encountering a Palestinian at a bar. I was both fortunate and unfortunate to live in a city where struggles reach far beyond simply finding love and a good pair of Manolos.

But no matter the topic, Carrie Bradshaw gave me permission to divulge my romantic life for the entire Jewish world, garnering both fans and foes. Sometimes I wonder: Would I have written half the stuff I did if not for her example? Would I have made the men I dated fodder for my columns without their knowing it? Would I have shared the pain of my first time? I don't know.

My openness has not exactly procured me a "Sex in the City" lifestyle, either. I'm still single, still pretty poor and still don't have a clique of girlfriends. I took on the sexual honesty, but got no fantasy to show for it.

The film is even more fanciful than the TV show. Despite their added years, the women have never looked so posh, perfect -- and plastic. Sure, there are difficult moments of betrayal and break-ups, but how bad can those be when you're wearing Prada and Dolce and Gabbana? Renting apartments in Manhattan on a whim? Jetting to Cancun to ease the pain?

I also faced another challenge in applying "Sex and the City"-style dilemmas to my own life: The community for which I write.

The Jewish world is often covert when it comes to female desire. Jewish women aren't supposed to open up with their rabbis about our pent-up desire for a one-night stand. We can't openly eye another congregant in shul and comment "that guy is hot!" without getting a lecture about middot (good deeds) before looks. I know I speak for some girlfriends when I admit that I have suffered a lot of confusion about the not-so-good deed -- in part because extramarital sex is associated with much taboo in Jewish communities across the board.

And maybe that's why watching "Sex in the City" has always offered such pleasure, and why I have taken Carrie Bradshaw's example of honestly sharing the nitty-gritty, sexually charged challenges of single life with more than just my girlfriends.

So while I may not have enjoyed such a glamorous life of sex in the city, if I have fostered a bit more openness to the needs and challenges of the Jewish woman attracted to secular life, then maybe I have done my share of tikkun olam, even if I won't be wearing Manolos when I get the backlash.