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At the Israeli Children's Museum in Holon, there is a tour which many visitors say they will never forget. It is called Dialogue in the Dark, and it takes place in rooms where there is no light at all. The guides who lead the groups are blind or almost blind.

Visitors walk through a series of dark spaces, each of which is built to feel like a real place: a park, a busy street, a market, even a boat. They have only a stick and their other senses — touch, hearing and smell — to find their way. Such an experience is frightening at first. Many people hold the wall and refuse to move.

This is when the guide steps in. Noam, whose job is to lead school groups, says the first few minutes are always the hardest. "Teenagers who are usually loud become completely quiet," he says. "Then they start to listen to my voice, and they follow it. In the dark, I am the one who knows the way."

For many visitors, that change is the most important part of the tour. Outside, they might feel sorry for a blind person or try to help him without asking. Inside, it is the other way around: the guide is the expert, and the visitors are the ones who need help. Some find it hard to accept; others do so easily.

At the end, the group sits in a dark café, where visitors must pay for a drink without seeing their money. Then they can ask the guide anything. The questions are often personal: How do you choose your clothes? How do you use a phone? Noam answers all of them. "I prefer questions to pity," he says.

When the doors open and the light comes back, many visitors cover their eyes. The world looks the same as before. The way they see it, however, has changed.

At the Israeli Children's Museum in Holon, there is a tour which many visitors say they will never forget. It is called Dialogue in the Dark, and it takes place in rooms where there is no light at all. The guides who lead the groups are blind or almost blind.

Visitors walk through a series of dark spaces, each of which is built to feel like a real place: a park, a busy street, a market, even a boat. They have only a stick and their other senses — touch, hearing and smell — to find their way. Such an experience is frightening at first. Many people hold the wall and refuse to move.

This is when the guide steps in. Noam, whose job is to lead school groups, says the first few minutes are always the hardest. "Teenagers who are usually loud become completely quiet," he says. "Then they start to listen to my voice, and they follow it. In the dark, I am the one who knows the way."

For many visitors, that change is the most important part of the tour. Outside, they might feel sorry for a blind person or try to help him without asking. Inside, it is the other way around: the guide is the expert, and the visitors are the ones who need help. Some find it hard to accept; others do so easily.

At the end, the group sits in a dark café, where visitors must pay for a drink without seeing their money. Then they can ask the guide anything. The questions are often personal: How do you choose your clothes? How do you use a phone? Noam answers all of them. "I prefer questions to pity," he says.

When the doors open and the light comes back, many visitors cover their eyes. The world looks the same as before. The way they see it, however, has changed.

At the Israeli Children's Museum in Holon, there is a tour which many visitors say they will never forget. It is called Dialogue in the Dark, and it takes place in rooms where there is no light at all. The guides who lead the groups are blind or almost blind.

Visitors walk through a series of dark spaces, each of which is built to feel like a real place: a park, a busy street, a market, even a boat. They have only a stick and their other senses — touch, hearing and smell — to find their way. Such an experience is frightening at first. Many people hold the wall and refuse to move.

This is when the guide steps in. Noam, whose job is to lead school groups, says the first few minutes are always the hardest. "Teenagers who are usually loud become completely quiet," he says. "Then they start to listen to my voice, and they follow it. In the dark, I am the one who knows the way."

For many visitors, that change is the most important part of the tour. Outside, they might feel sorry for a blind person or try to help him without asking. Inside, it is the other way around: the guide is the expert, and the visitors are the ones who need help. Some find it hard to accept; others do so easily.

At the end, the group sits in a dark café, where visitors must pay for a drink without seeing their money. Then they can ask the guide anything. The questions are often personal: How do you choose your clothes? How do you use a phone? Noam answers all of them. "I prefer questions to pity," he says.

When the doors open and the light comes back, many visitors cover their eyes. The world looks the same as before. The way they see it, however, has changed.