Early morning, everybody seemed to be still asleep. Silently, she crept out of her hotel room and took the stony path down to the lake. Even the lake seemed to be asleep. Tiny waves lazily licked the rocks at the shore. On the other side the Golan Heights stood purple and silently against the background of an increasingly orange sky showing a few clouds that would disappear by mid morning at the latest. The lake mirrored the sky, changing the intensity and the shades of the color by the minute.
That's Syria on the other side, she thought. Such ancient lands. Such long history. And here I am, today. A dream come true.
She hadn't come here for religious reasons. She knew that many people did. She had seen them in almost every place in this country that she had visited so far. She couldn't identify with them. She came because of the fascination this country held for her. The contrasts, the conflicts. The people - the Jews, the Christians, the Muslims. It was the melting pot that fascinated her.
Nothing of that she felt this morning. Instead she felt peaceful, watching the sun rise behind the Golan. She wanted to keep this picture, this moment in her heart. This feeling of being one with the world, no matter what you believed - if you believed. This was the same to everyone - the sun rising over the mountains, spilling its light on the lake, on the land. The start of a new day in all its quietness, with all its possibilities. Always a new start.
She would hold this memory in her heart for years and years to come. Whenever she needed a quiet place to go to, she just closed her eyes and dreamed herself on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.