One Zimmer, Two Zimmerim?

The plural form in German is very tricky. You never know whether to stick an "n," "e," or "r" at the end of the word, let alone when to include that wily umlaut (i.e. one "Haus" and several "Häuser"). And then there's a word like "Zimmer" (room), which remains exactly the same whether singular or plural. That is, until Hebrew gets ahold of it! The Israelis use their own plural form to refer to the latest tourist magnet: Israelis don't do B&Bs, they do "Zimmerim." The latest trends in the Zimmer industry include plasma TVs, private jacuzzis, strewn rose petals, and scented candles, so I hope I don't disappoint too much when I tell you that my first experience at one of these fashionable abodes was sans mediterranean lover. As they say in Hebrew -- lehavdil! I was there with my parents for their 40th wedding anniversary. (What a sexy personal life I do lead!) In fact, I was not just a third wheel but a fifth wheel, since their friends Jonathan and Helen came along. But I'd tag along again in a heartbeat!

The drive to the Upper Galilee was a circuitous one. Following Jonathan's cue, we made an important stop in the village of Rama to purchase local olive oil from Edouard and Sohela. Now, there are those who buy theirs pre-bottled at the supermarket, and there are others, like Jonathan, who will drive many miles to collect local Galilean olive oil in sterilized gas canisters that they have schlepped all the way from home. I think it's important to have such meshugene friends. After all, the supermarket variety not only pales in terms of freshness and flavor, it also lacks the ceremonious touch of Turkish coffee and cake by Edouard and Sohela's still-standing Christmas tree. On our way out, Edouard even picked a few bay leaves right off the tree for us to take home to dry. How's that for a personal touch?

With gallons of olive oil slooshing around in the trunk, we continued north, past Rosh Pinah, to

Sde Eliezer and the Zimmer of Gabriela and Ofer. Everything at this place makes the word "organic" sound foolish. At breakfast, orange juice was squeezed, avocados sliced, and pears jarred from fruit plucked straight from the backyard. Even our wiry hosts looked "organic" -- they seemed to subsist entirely on sunflower sprouts and birdseed. Aside from a rooster suffering from jetlag (I base the assumption on a 3:30am cockle-doodle-doo), this was the quietest environment imaginable.

But the rooster wasn't the only bird making noise in the Galilee. At the Hula Bird Sanctuary we watched--and well before that heard--the descent of thousands upon thousands of cranes (new Hebrew vocab: agurim). Our initial explanation for their incessant yapping—obviously these are Jewish cranes—was soon dispelled when the local guide explained that they are monogamous, and they find one another by calling (or is it nagging?). You can forget personalized ringtones!

Evidently, the German presence in the Galilee isn't limited to the word "Zimmer." A big orange sign informs me that the crane research project is supported by Lufthansa. I guess the German airline takes its logo seriously. It's no wonder, then, that, upon entering the viewing deck, I stumble upon another German sign, which includes a typically mammoth word: "VOGELBEOBACHTUNGSTAND." That's right, it's a three-in-one deal: bird (Vogel) + observation (Beobachtung) + point (Stand). Wacky krauts.

The following day we drive even further north, to the Golan Heights. As we cruise past abandoned tanks and minefields littered with warning signs, remains from the Yom Kippur War, the radio spontaneously starts blasting Arabic and before we know it we are looking directly at the Syrian border. You cannot imagine how tiny and surrounded this country is until you find yourself at its northern tip, where you can see both Syria and Lebanon in a single view.

Finding ourselves in the heart of Israel's bourgeoning wine industry, we pass vineyard after vineyard as we enter Emek ha-bakha (The Valley of Tears), where the bloodiest tank battle of the Yom Kippur War was fought. High up, at around 4,000 feet, an abandoned Israeli bunker offers a breakthaking view of some of the most beautiful and the most disputed territory. Since the borders between Israel and Syria remain subject for negotiation, the countries are separated by a demilitarized zone patrolled by the U.N. Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF). This is serious business, but there's always room for levity. A local cafe is named not only for its proximity to the clouds (the Hebrew word is anan), but also offers a little shout-out to the former Secretary General with a funky name. You guessed it: Coffee Anan!