The last night in Haifa: decisions made over dinner

I've been sitting at this small restaurant near the port for the last two hours. The place is almost empty now - just me, a couple finishing their dessert, and the staff cleaning up. My plate has been cleared, but they've kindly let me linger with my tea as I stare out at the dark Mediterranean, barely visible through the window. The lights of ships twinkle in the distance.

I made my decision over dinner tonight. Tomorrow I'm taking the 11:30 bus to Tiberias. It wasn't the original plan - I'd been considering Tel Aviv or even heading straight south to Eilat, but something about the Sea of Galilee has been calling to me these past few days.

My time in Haifa has been unexpectedly peaceful. This morning I spent a final few hours wandering through the German Colony, taking photos of architectural details I'd missed on previous walks - doorways with dates carved above them, decorative ironwork on balconies, small gardens tucked between buildings. I stopped at my regular café for the fourth morning in a row. The owner seemed genuinely disappointed when I told him I was leaving tomorrow.

"So soon?" he asked, placing my coffee down with extra care. "You just arrived!"

Four days isn't long, but it's been enough to establish a routine. That's the strange paradox of travel - how quickly we can build temporary homes in new places, only to leave them behind.

After coffee, I walked up to the Bahá'í Gardens entrance one last time. I didn't go in - I'd already done the tour earlier in my stay - but I wanted to see those perfectly manicured terraces again, to commit them to memory. A group of tourists was gathering for the morning tour, and I found myself smiling, remembering my own wide-eyed wonder just a few days ago.

The afternoon was spent packing and repacking my bag, that ritual that's become so familiar over these past 142 days. It's amazing how even after months of practice, I still question every item. Do I really need this extra sweater? What about this book I haven't opened in weeks?

I walked to the bus station to purchase my ticket for tomorrow. The woman at the counter seemed surprised when I asked for Tiberias instead of Tel Aviv.

"Tourist?" she asked, and when I nodded, she added, "Not many tourists go there this time of year."

Perhaps that's part of the appeal. January isn't peak season anywhere in Israel, but especially not at the Sea of Galilee. I've heard the water level is finally recovering after years of drought. I want to see it, to stand at its shore and imagine all the history that has unfolded there.

I've noticed the news about the Carmelit station entrance closing next week for escalator replacements. Good timing on my part, I suppose. I also read about the Chagall Artists' House closing permanently - 72 years of cultural history coming to an end. I feel a strange sadness about this, even though I never visited. Something about the impermanence of institutions we assume will always be there resonates with me right now.

The temperature has dropped tonight - it's about 10°C outside. The weather forecast shows showers coming this weekend. Another good reason to be moving on.

I think about María's words from Jerusalem, about whether I'm running from something or toward something. The question still lingers, but sitting here tonight, watching the staff stack chairs around me (a gentle hint that they'd like to close), I feel more like I'm moving toward something than away. I don't know what's waiting in Tiberias, but I feel drawn there. That's enough for now.

The waiter has given me the check with an apologetic smile. Time to head back to the hotel for my final night in Haifa. Tomorrow brings a new city, a new body of water, new streets to learn. 358 days remain on this journey. Sometimes that number feels impossibly large, other times frighteningly small.

As I pay and gather my things, I take one last look at the darkened sea. Haifa has been good to me - a pause, a breath, a moment of recalibration after Jerusalem's intensity. I arrived here on my 50th birthday, feeling the weight of that milestone. I leave feeling lighter somehow, ready for whatever comes next.