On this, our third trip, we were heading back to Chebaa. However, my parents decided that, while it was of capital importance to spend some time with my grandparents, it was also important that we enjoy ourselves. This was a vacation after all and unfortunately, there was only so much amusement that a small town like Chebaa could provide. My father therefore planned for us to fly from Montreal to Israel, hire a driver and cross the border into Lebanon, spend about ten days in Chebaa with my grandparents, cross the border back into Israel and spend about a week in Tel-Aviv before flying back home.
We landed in Tel-Aviv on a lovely Friday blessed with sunny warmth after an exhaustive pair of flights. We grabbed our luggage and before we knew it, we were driving towards the Israeli-Lebanese border. After a little over three hours, we entered the small border town of Metula. As we approached the border crossing, my parents and our driver readied themselves for what would surely be a difficult process. My sister and I remained fixated on the view through the rear-view window of our car. It quickly became apparent to the adults in the car that something was wrong. My father and the driver stepped out of the car and spoke to some Israeli soldiers. They returned shortly after with the driver quickly performing a u-turn almost before he had a chance to close the driver side door. My father learned that the border crossing then known as the Good Fence was closed and wouldn’t reopen until Sunday because of the Sabbath. We had no choice but to spend a couple of nights in Metula and were lucky enough to find a pretty decent room in one of the few hotels located in the small town.
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