[Free translation by Roov Koret]

As the chapter of our seven week subterranean saga comes to a close, my daughter and I pack our sparse belongings and burkas with a bittersweet cocktail of relief and retrospection. Your unique camp experience, with its labyrinthine corridors and romantically lit alcoves, has imparted to us unforgettable lessons of survival and self-sufficiency unparalleled in any traditional accommodation. Nothing in my experience prepared me for the hidden pleasures of your tunnel retreat.

Your rice-centric cuisine and the fasting regimen you championed have sculpted us down to our essential selves, a transformation we’re still grappling to understand. We can only envy the 170 fellow campers who remain, each continuing their journey of austere enlightenment and emotional fortitude. How lucky for them that they can enjoy the spartan pleasures of your company.

Yet, amidst our undying gratitude for this most unconventional of holiday resorts, we harbor a whisper of regret. My daughter, sadly, missed the chance to partake in the vigorous activities that some of the other girls experienced. We’ve heard tell of their stretches and crunches, their adrenaline-fueled sprints through fields and tunnels—heart-pounding aerobic drills punctuated by kill shots to the head that surely added a spark of excitement to their exercise.

Selfishly, I must admit that I feel occasional pangs of regret at missing out on some of the adventures of the other ladies. Free operations to excise superfluous limbs, .22 caliber piercings, instant breast and belly reductions, disembowelments for pesky pregnancies, and all the spectacular healthcare and signature homemade Hamas Hummus your team offered, amazingly, free of charge.

Perhaps next time….

But the spirit of independence that you’ve cultivated in us girls—where bandages became badges of honor and solitude served as a silent teacher—is absolutely priceless. The absence of fathers and husbands has given us a profound sense of sisterhood along with a renewed appreciation for the family and neighbors we once had above ground and under, especially for those thousands you and the guys murdered in a morning. We are women! Hear us roar!

As we surface back into our daily routines, I can’t help but marvel at the cost-free nature of this resort. Such frugality! Such economy! How do you manage it? I can only suppose that your budget was devoted to preparing your magnificent subterranean adventure park. So what if those peasants perish and starve? They served you well as shields, as we did, doing our parts for the cause of free Palestine. Free indeed, like the parking places I hear now abound in your northern realms. Would that it be in Tel Aviv!

Life is short. Money well spent! Good on you, guys! From the river to the sea, Resistance Resort is always free!

And so, with hearts heavy but bodies lighter, buoyant with hope mixed with nostalgia for weekly pitas and damp nights prone on prayer rugs, we can only express our profound thanks to you and the shebab. Even as days shorten and nights lengthen, may your tunnels always lead you to where you need to be.

Perhaps, next year, when the leaves again turn and the air chills, we might find ourselves craving another holiday adventure with comrades in your comfy caves. If the fates allow, we look forward to autumn, to once again descending into the warm embrace of the kindly team of Resistance Resort. Truly, I cannot resist the temptation to repeat the experience.

With an endless appetite for future escapades, we send you a fond Allahu Akhbar, and salaam aleikhum! Until we meet again,

Your Fangirls