PARDES HANNA, Israel - Incense wafted through the air as vendors peddled herb tea, sushi, ceramic moons and therapeutic massages under the shade of pine trees. A rocker played Israel's national anthem on the guitar, Jimi Hendrix-style.
The ``Chic Shouk'' is a sign of change in Pardes Hanna, a historically conservative community on the Mediterranean coast that has seen an influx in recent months of spiritualists, artists and musicians seeking refuge from the bustle of Tel Aviv and other cities.
They make a sharp contrast to the old stereotypes of gun-toting kibbutzniks and rabbis in prayer shawls.
The town of 28,000 is a rare island of quiet in a turbulent land, with tree-lined streets, open fields and a 30-minute commute to Tel Aviv.
``Israel is changing so much,'' said Dafna Retter, a 31-year-old practitioner of guided imagery, a form of psychology that uses visual suggestion. ``Israel is growing up. You can do whatever you want,'' she said, struggling to control a wriggling son whose hands were covered with paint after decorating a clay butterfly.
The migration appears to reflect a growing introspection in Israel's secular majority, brought on by many factors: years of tension with the expanding religious community; a sense that old-school Zionist values are dying; depression over the unexpected resurgence of the Palestinian intefadeh, or uprising.
``Life in Israel means you are always under stress and uncertain about the future,'' said Benjamin Beit-Hallahmi, a Haifa University psychology professor and author of ``Despair and Deliverance,'' a study of the secular spiritual search.
``When you move to Pardes Hanna you want to escape the reality of the intefadeh and go into organic gardening or organic healing and stop thinking about the real problems. It's an escape into private solutions and private miracles.''
The result has been a boom in alternative medicine, yoga, health foods and eastern philosophy.
Reflections of the phenomenon are everywhere. At least four large New Age festivals drew tens of thousands of revelers this spring. At Medicin, Israel's largest college for complementary medicine, enrollment is at a record 2,000, said spokeswoman Tovit Gal.
Pardes Hanna's more tradition-minded Jews have qualms about the newcomers.
``They want to change the mentality here,'' said David Camos, 40. ``They open stores on the Sabbath. It's trouble. They will bring drugs. Our kids see their bad example.''
Nearby, children wobbled on stilts. There were crowds of laughing hippies with dreadlocked hair. A small girl tooted a brassy horn. A woman wove through the crowds with a tray of sushi, complete with sauce for dipping.
Hare Krishna devotees tapped drums, clanged finger cymbals and sang.
Marga Francois, 43, danced as her husband Toni, an immigrant from the small Caribbean Island of St. Lucia, played guitar and sang with a local reggae band called ``Jah Lions.''
Retter said she was here looking for a home in order to be near ``like-minded people'' - people unlike her religious neighbors in Jerusalem who ridiculed her decision to give birth to her three children in her home.
Alongside the New Age boom, some secular Israelis are flirting with Judaism.
Recently, during the Jewish festival of Lag B'omer, thousands of secular Israelis huffed and puffed alongside black-suited orthodox Jews hiking up Mount Meron in northern Israel to the tomb of a revered rabbi.
Seventeen-year-old Miri Hazahn hitchhiked from Jerusalem hoping to find music, ``pretty souls'' and a closeness to God.
The girl, wearing a blue scarf, dusty boots, and flowing purple skirt, said many of her friends came to Mount Meron looking for spirituality.
``Religion has a lot of magic in it,'' she said.
AP-NY-06-16-01 0132EDT
Copyright 2001 The Associated Press.