Other Waze

It was the Ne’ila service at the Great Synagogue of Tel Aviv in 2024. Unlike the previous year, the hall was composed but not full. By the end of the service, people filled the room up to the door, yet the difference from last year’s crowd was clear. On the walk there, the streets were mostly empty except for the occasional kids on scooters. Back home, the city felt deserted. That evening, my wife and I decided to book tickets out of Israel. We weren’t going to be the last ones left in Tel Aviv after the Iranian attack on October 1st. The flights were so uncertain that until we left Israeli airspace, we couldn’t be sure we’d actually get out.

We traveled to Portugal, the country where I was born, grew up, and spent much of my adult life. I was thrilled to share it with my wife, who had visited before but never quite like this. I wanted to show her everything I loved, making it light, personal, and flavorful. We had breakfast two days in a row at “Pastéis de Belém” and dined in both charming tascas—the cozy local eateries—and some elegant restaurants. We tried to forget the war as best as we could and let this spontaneous trip be just that—a real escape.

By the second day, my wife laughed and said, “Enough, David! You’re giving me too much information about explorers, tiles, and poets.” She was right, as usual, so I took the hint. We rented a little black FIAT convertible and decided to head north to Porto. I thought we’d make the drive even better by stopping along the way to explore the medieval village of Óbidos.

With Waze guiding us and the “Avoid toll roads” setting switched on, we found ourselves in a different world, far from the highways and deep into the heart of Portugal. It was just what we needed. We drove along narrow, bucolic roads that wound through fields with cows and sheep, windmills, lovely villages, and multicolored tile-clad houses. We passed little grocery stores with baskets of homegrown fruit carefully displayed out front. As the sun set behind ancient oak trees, the air filled with the earthy scent of manure mingling with a distant sea breeze, the announcement of fall. It was a magical afternoon. Tel Aviv and the war felt worlds away, almost as if they belonged to another century. There was an excitement in discovering, together, a side of Portugal even I had never known.

We arrived in Óbidos just as night fell. We sipped ginginha, wandered through the medieval streets, and enjoyed a delicious dinner at a cozy restaurant within the ancient walls. Later, we hit the highway toward Porto. Over four days, we covered nearly 900 kilometers—not all of it efficient, but every bit of it worthwhile.

Could we have found better roads? Absolutely. Could we have gotten where we were going faster? Of course. But would we have had as much fun discovering the hidden roads between Porto and the picturesque city of Aveiro? No way. Off the highways, there’s an entire world waiting, a place where Hezbollah missiles are mere myths, and time seems to slow, like sinking into a good book. Naturally, a skilled driver is essential—the roads aren’t always forgiving—but the journey more than makes up for it.

At one point, we decided to head into Spain because my wife had discovered that McDonald’s there was giving away small toy figures of Friends characters with Happy Meals—and she’s a huge fan of the show. Yes, there are certainly better reasons to cross the border into Galiza than a visit to the home of the Big Mac, but with Waze’s “Avoid toll roads” setting and a steady rain pouring down, the trip became an adventure. We wound through villages with granite cottages covered in ivy and passed ancient churches with weathered bells. The landscape transformed as we crossed the border—rolling hills softened into dense woodlands, where the fading sunlight filtered through the trees in a soft, dappled glow. Each turn in the narrow road revealed something new: fields scattered with grain storage huts and forests thick and green.

In the end, we returned with three Chandlers and three Rachels, and for a few days, we forgot there was a war. If life is a road I guess one shouldn’t take always the same ways.