In the Jewish tradition, one’s name is cosmically connected to their identity. Amir in Arabic means ’prince’, and Katz means ‘priest’.  Indeed, I try to balance the two with some grace and humility.  My father was a war veteran from Israel’s near defeat in the 1973 Yom Kippur war.  My mother was the daughter of a wine importer and merchant, yet the good life in America was not for me and I fled home at the age of 14. My travels brought me to boarding-school where my Jewish faith made me an outsider for the first time. Later I wandered west to the Rocky Mountains, trekked across South America through jungles and deserts, and after years of running and searching, I discovered the other half of my Jewish people, the Israelis. While stricken with malaria and having taken a near-fatal fall from an isolated waterfall in the jungles of Guatemala, I was rescued and nursed back to health by travelers like myself. I felt a kinship with my fellow Hebrews and I followed them back to my father’s homeland. Here I began anew; I worked, studied, and grew. Yet, the travel bug within would not settle. I moved to Egypt to learn Arabic, and then onto Turkey where I lived for a year with my future wife, Devra. After returning to Israel for the second time, a chance encounter with a group of tour guides led me to dedicate two years of schooling to become a professional guide myself. The country that had welcomed me now gave me the opportunity to welcome others. It’s my honor to do so and to uphold Middle-Eastern traditions of hospitality, and a tent whose entrance is always open. I hope you can visit and I hope to invite you to go a bit further, to dive a touch deeper, and travel Beyond.