I Left My Heart . . . in Kibbutz Massada

There was no doubt that Doobie and Betty were glad to see me. The other resident of their house, not so much. Blanco considers himself King of the Castle and didn't take kindly to my absconding with his preferred sleeping quarters. To make things worse, my closing the door to his room by mistake the first night angered him, and he never forgave me after that. 

Of course, it stands to reason. I have a history with Betty's animals. Back in our youth, Betty had a black and white cat the size of a small truck and the attitude of a pissed-off bulldozer. Her name was Poopsie, and she hated everyone except Betty and our mutual friend, Bill. I still shudder to think about the night I stayed over, slept in her bed and awoke to find Poopsie on my stomach. Betty and I looked enough alike and I was covered enough that she didn't realize it wasn't Betty. I was afraid to move for fear she'd attack. To this day I can't remember how we got her off with no blood loss.


To be honest, the first day I arrived at Kibbutz Massada is a blur. I don't remember what we did, if anything. I must have seen this entry gate and guard house.

It wasn't until the following morning than I got a better look at the surroundings.

Betty has lived at Kibbutz Massada over 30 years, since the time she served as a volunteer here and then returned to make Aliyah to become a permanent resident and Israeli citizen. She's seen it go from a kibbutz-for-real with a functioning valve factory, dairy farm, chicken ranch and all the communal activities that go along with traditional kibbutz living until some years ago it became privatized. The community dining room, as well as the movie theatre were closed. Kibbutzniks became responsible for their own meals, expenses and other functions that the kibbutz had provided previously. Now the dairy, where Betty worked when she was a volunteer, has closed. The chicken ranch still exists, but it, too, has been privatized and taken over by an outside company.  

I asked her if she and Doobie had ever considered leaving Massada for a city environment. She gave me a look that said it all. "No!" she exclaimed.  "Massada is my home. We'll never leave here."

Housing approximately 200 people, the kibbutz is tranquil, green and inviting. I, too, felt at home immediately.

The entrance to the kibbutz made me feel right at home with its huge
bushes of lantana, a plant that has always reminded me of my
growing-up years in small-town Vista

Betty and Doobie live in the building to the left on the far end.
Expansive lawns and beautiful flowers surround the living areas.

The walk from Betty & Doobie's home to the kibbutz fence that fronts the highway,
 illustrative of the flowers found everywhere.

The second day I was there, Doobie took me to work with him so he could show me around. He worried about my getting lost. He showed me the little mini-market where he clocked in for his job at the post office around the corner. 

The kibbutz mini-mart. One of those bikes is Doobie's.
Bikes are a principal mode of transportation if you want to
travel within the kibbutz.

He made sure to point out important features, so I'd be able to find my way, such as the water tower, which can be seen from most parts of the kibbutz.

The Water Tower is probably Kibbutz Massada's
most prominent feature.

On my own I walked to the rear fence and then made my way back. I quickly discovered that all paths lead to somewhere familiar, and if you can just see the water tower, you can orient yourself. 

Betty had warned me that September was not an ideal time to visit. Temperatures are hot (and humid), and walking--let alone hiking--could be uncomfortable. She was right. The first day I walked, with Doobie as my escort, I rediscovered the reason for siestas in the middle of the day. From that day on, having found it pretty hard to get lost, I took to rising before everyone else. Benefits:  cooler air, few people, sunrise views. 

I began to see why Betty loves it so.