Finding balance in Haifa's hills

I've been in Haifa for two full days now, and I'm discovering a different rhythm to this place compared to Jerusalem. The city feels stretched between the harbor below and Mount Carmel above, with neighborhoods cascading down the slopes. There's something about being near water again that calms me.

This morning, I woke up early and decided to visit the Haifa Museum of Art. I arrived just as they were opening—the guard was still unlocking the entrance gate when I walked up. He smiled as if to say "eager visitor" and waved me in. The museum is housed in a stone building that feels both modern and historic at once.

I spent nearly three hours wandering through the exhibitions. The contemporary section had an installation about displacement that really resonated with me. It featured suitcases suspended from the ceiling, each containing fragments of different lives—photographs, letters, articles of clothing. Something about seeing these personal items hanging in limbo made me think about my own journey, carrying pieces of home while collecting new experiences.

After the museum, I found a small café nearby and ordered hummus and pita with a strong coffee. The owner, a woman probably in her sixties, asked where I was from. When I said Norway, she smiled and told me her daughter had visited Oslo two years ago. "She said it was beautiful but so expensive!" I laughed and agreed. We chatted about Haifa while I ate—she's lived here her entire life and described how the city has changed over decades.

"Haifa has three things," she told me, counting on her fingers. "Arabs and Jews living together, the beautiful sea, and terrible public transportation." She laughed at her own joke, then proceeded to give me detailed instructions for the best way to get around without a car.

I spent the afternoon walking through the German Colony, admiring the stone buildings with their red-tiled roofs. These structures date back to the 1860s when German Templers settled here. Many have been beautifully restored and now house restaurants and boutiques. The straight, orderly layout of the neighborhood contrasts with the organic sprawl of other parts of the city.

It's interesting how different Haifa feels from Jerusalem. The atmosphere is more relaxed, more European somehow. The religious tensions aren't as immediately apparent, though they surely exist beneath the surface. People seem to move at a different pace here.

I noticed a news report on a TV in a shop window about flight operations resuming tomorrow after some cancellations. There was also something about train service changes coming up on Friday. I should check that out since I might want to take a train somewhere along the coast in the next few days.

The weather turned cloudy this afternoon, and there's a yellow warning for thunderstorms until 6:00 PM according to a weather alert I saw. I can see dark clouds gathering over the sea from my hotel window as I write this. The temperature has dropped to about 14°C, which still feels mild compared to January in Norway, but there's a damp chill in the air that cuts deeper than dry cold.

I'm planning to stay in Haifa at least until Friday, maybe longer. I'm not feeling the restlessness that often pushes me onward. There's something about this city—perhaps it's the blend of cultures, the sea air, or just that I'm settling into a more comfortable rhythm with my journey now that I've passed the 50 milestone. I don't feel the need to rush.

Tomorrow, if the weather improves, I might take the cable car up to the Stella Maris Monastery for views of the coastline. Or perhaps I'll just wander and see where the city takes me. There's value in both planning and spontaneity—a balance I'm still learning to strike after 140 days on the road.

360 days left before I return to Kristiansand. Sometimes that feels like forever, other times it seems to be racing by. Right now, watching the clouds shift over the Mediterranean, I'm simply grateful to be here, in this moment.