Stefan Szepesi is standing in a meadow surrounded by poppies and wild orchids. He takes a deep breath. He is facing Wadi Maghrour, a valley in the West Bank  with terraced olive groves in which some of the trees are more than 100 years old. A path winds through the valley, identified by red-and-white markers. It's 11 kilometers (7 miles) long, the elevation change is 400 meters (1,300 feet) and the level of difficulty is classified as "moderate."

Szepesi has discovered this path, which leads from the village of Batir to Beit Jala near Bethlehem, and described it. He calls it trail 23. The Green Line, which marks the boundary between Israel  and the West Bank, is to the west and north, there is a checkpoint to the east, and there are Israeli settlements to the south. In the midst of all this is an island of calm, which the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) has surveyed and deemed to be a potential World Heritage Site. That is, unless Israel builds a wall there, as it is planning to do.

But this isn't about politics. It's about hiking. In his hand, Szepesi is holding a book with the unlikely title "Walking Palestine."  It describes 25 day-hikes for the West Bank, complete with route descriptions and recommendations for restaurants and places to stay. The photos show flowers, birds, butterflies, monasteries, shepherds and people riding donkeys. It's a different West Bank from the one we hear about on the evening news, but it's probably very similar to the Palestine where Jesus once walked.

Bigger Problems

Szepesi knows that the Palestinians  have bigger problems than hiking paths. Indeed, he is more familiar with these problems than most people. Until recently, the 32-year-old Dutchman lived in East Jerusalem, where he worked as an adviser, first for the European Union and then for the Middle East Quartet, which is trying to negotiate peace between Israel and the Palestinians. In that role, Szepesi was one of the many diplomats who experience the West Bank primarily from inside an SUV with diplomatic plates and who usually flee to Tel Aviv or the Dead Sea on weekends.

But Szepesi got into his car and drove into the West Bank, instead. He got out in places that appealed to him and went for walks in the area. At some point he took a more professional approach to his excursions. When he got maps, he discovered that there were only two types: the maps from the Israeli nature conservation organization, in Hebrew, and the UN maps that show where the checkpoints are located. Both types had little to do with the reality he had discovered during his outings: welcoming people, authentic villages and almost untouched Roman ruins.

The West Bank is a great place for hiking, Szepesi says. There's the desert, and there are also mountains and rugged valleys. It's an Arab Tuscany, at least if you pay attention to a few ground rules: finding a safe place to park the car and keeping enough distance from Palestinian cities, Israeli settlements and military facilities.

As Szepesi continues to walk, passing farmers who are pouring new concrete for their olive-grove terraces, he says that he used to think hiking was boring. He preferred mountain-biking and running marathons. But, in the West Bank, he developed a love of hiking. After a year, he decided that it would be nice to share his passion with others.

'What the Hell Am I Doing Here?'

So far, most tourists only go to Bethlehem. Although the West Bank has a lot to offer, hardly anyone dares to go there. This is partly because it's so fragmented -- into military zones, settlements and barriers, zones A, B and C. The West Bank is a territory that is held together by little more than an idea. What tourist would want to navigate his way through this insanity?

That's why Szepesi began writing a hiking guide. He worked on it for three years, and during the last two years, he even went down to part time in his regular job so that he had more time to work on the project. He would spend two days a week working with the Middle East Quartet and three days hiking.

When he began writing, there was still hope of peace. But during the past two years, everything has ground to a halt. The diplomat often asked himself: "What the hell am I doing here? I'm writing a book about hiking in Palestine?"

But the project grew. He recruited Palestinian guides, reconstructed place names and convinced local communities to mark the paths. It wasn't always easy. The Palestinians often didn't understand what this strange Dutchman wanted from them. When he would ask them for directions, they would say: "Just follow the road. You're better off taking a taxi." He had to explain to them that he was looking for the most beautiful path, not the quickest route.

Palestinians don't hike much, so he included short routes for them in his book, one- or two-hour walks to get to know their homeland.

In the Footsteps of Abraham

We arrive at the Maghrour Restaurant at kilometer 4.9. Szepesi has made sure that the routes include a restaurant as often as possible. The owner serves warm pita bread, salad and grilled meat. The Dutchman eats quickly. He has a meeting to attend with the Palestinian tourism minister, who wants to order some copies of his book. There could soon be a lot more hikers coming to the West Bank.

Szepesi has since left his job with the Middle East Quartet, and he recently became the managing director of Abraham's Path,  a nonprofit initiative. It aims to develop a hiking path for tourists along the Biblical route taken by the prophet Abraham, who is sacred to Christians, Jews and Muslims, who call him Ibrahim. The 1,200-kilometer trek will lead from Turkey to Israel, passing through Syria and the West Bank.