Akko or Acre

Continuing North from Haifa is Akko or Acre (that's what they called it in the movie Kingdom Of Heaven which is worth watching if you've been to these parts or have a thing for Orlando Bloom). I followed signs for the town centre and lucked upon a brilliant free parking space on a patch of dirt. I wandered into the town and followed my nose to the sea front- and there I found the perfect place for a second home. The most spectacular sea view was looked over by a row of derelict houses which you could knock down and rebuild for about a tenner. Even though this is the Med and there are no beach signs it looked pretty clean to me and the weather is totally guaranteed.

Just about getting my bearings I walked along the front towards some ancient buildings- a small Fort which in turn led to a labyrinth of back streets where I suspected the tourists didn't go- and missed out. Obviously Islamic with three stories rising above narrow lanes and dusty courtyards it was utterly timeless. The seafood of the night before was having some effect and I happened upon a man who spoke no English but had a toilet- like you do, and I paid him one Sheckel to use it. Thankfully supply met demand not a minute too soon!
After about ten minutes wandering I joined the bustle of the market. This one was for real, Muslims, Jews and Christians rubbed shoulders around the giant fish, super sweet confectionary (1 million flies can't be wrong) and toothless hags producing pancakes by speading hot batter on an old cushion. There was no edge to the place and as an obvious stranger I was able to hop and skip over the streams of fish blood and water which meandered through the cobbles just as everyone else did.

My course continued towards the more touristy area of the Citadel which I paid to enter and got the recorded guided tour too. The history and it's brutality were amazing, although we Brits (as a European Christian Army) had conquered the place we were the only ones not to kill all the inhabitants and raze the city to the ground when we left. Over successive centuries excavations had unearthed ever deeper buildings, covered or filled in by newer civilisations. Pride of place were the great halls of the hospitalers or Knights Templars, walking on the same floors as the Kings, Knights and soldiers who travelled from England to fight Sal'adin for the Holy Land was pretty good. I explored the secret tunnels which they used to move around the city while under attack, read inscriptions on stone tablets left by their own Monk Soldiers (who by the sound of it were pretty handy) and dodged the souvenir shops and street hawkers just as they would have done- probably.
After picking up some fresh fruit and veg for lunch I went back to the car and hit the coast road again. At the extreme North West corner of Israel, slap bang on the closed border with Lebanon is Rosh Hanikra. A series of grottos carved in to the cliff face by the sea to produce an outstanding visual effect as turquoise waves crash against the white chalky rock. Alongside is a rail tunnel dug by the post war British to link Israeli cities with Beirut- known at the time as the Paris of the Med. Access to all this was provided by a cable car from the top of the cliffs made by Doppelmeyer, who you may guess do all the Austrian ski lifts, it was a bit weird to say the least having been raised and lowered over so many metres in the preceeding months by their contraptions.

After the grottos it had to be East and along the broder towards the Golan Heights where I planned to overnight. Dan had told me there would be a festival in this area and it would be busy, what I hadn't anticipated was that whole towns would be blocked off. This was made very clear when I ran into a Police road block outside Zefat and was very politely turned around, having been in the game long enough to know that one doesn't ask why. This caused a rapid re-evaluation of my route and took me further North towards Quiryat Semona. The scenery was awesome, Golan being the Snowdonia of Israel and a bit of a playground for the masses. At the time it was dead, the season not having got going and many places were pretty dormant. Having driven through many small towns, stopped off at various Kibbutz and even asked at a petrol station the options for accommodation were bleak and I was being forced further East than I wanted to go in my quest for a bed for the night. Eventually I happened upon a Field School which is a bit like a youth hostel where groups of young people stay to learn about Israeli countryside. They gave me a spartan 4 bed detached house for thirty quid which by that time I was glad of. This hit my cash funds by some and after a stroll in the hills to watch the sun go down I was in the embarrassing predicament of having to walk into a nice country restaurant and tell them I needed beer and food for NIS100. Luckily it was dead quiet and they liked my style so I ate well, drank strictly speaking more than I should prior to the very short drive back and still was able to give a tip to the waiter with the left over change.
The Field school was well located to see the aforementioned fires being lit in the valley below(think Guy Fawkes night) and I went to bed.