Shabbat Shalom

Tonight will be my first Shabbat in Jerusalem. (I just had to teach my computer's dictionary the word 'shabbat.' Sad.) Soon, we'll go over and help our friend Jordan prepare Shabbat dinner (which must be completed before sundown, since cooking is work). We will have eggplant parmesan, challah, ruglach, and wine. I'm looking forward to the time with them and a night off from class. We normally wouldn't have class on Friday, this week being the exception. But in the afternoon period, they taught us modern Israeli songs, which was more fun than I am willing to admit.

Unexpected downside to the Sabbath: I live on the 6th floor of my apartment building, and elevators are shut down for shabbat. Add it to the list of Reasons I Will Return From This Trip Incredibly Fit.

Yesterday's trip to the Old City was unbelievable. Jerusalem is beautiful beyond words. I was in awe. (though hopefully not too in awe. Tell your friends about the dangers of Jerusalem Syndrome.)

We took the city's brand new light rail, a sleek bullet of a train that blessedly only travels on a single line, to the heart of Jaffa street, a bustling block of shops that leads from city center to the Old City. As we approached, the grey shop fronts faded into white stone and palm trees, which paved the way to the Jaffa Gate, one of the many Gates in the walls enclosing the Old City. We started our day in the Armenian Quarter. (Old City is divided into Quarters: Moslem, Armenian, Christian, and Jewish.) There we walked through the busy bazaar, a crowded series of alleys and streets filled from wall to wall with fabrics, bracelets, beads, metalwork, ceramics, and more colors than you can name. There, you have to be a very aware shopper. Shop keepers' trick is to talk to you to get you to come to their stall. Don't make eye contact or acknowledge their questions, and you can pass just fine. Second tip: Don't be American. Be anything else. Speak in a Spanish accent if you can. Once they know you're American, up goes the price. Finally, bartering. Every price is way above normal, so you have to barter. Don't be in a rush, don't answer "How much would you like to pay?", and be ready to walk out if the price is no good. 8 times out of 10, you'll be called back in, and your price will be accepted, as our friend Katie successfully did, much to our pride.

Our next stop was the Christian Quarter--specifically, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Here, things started to get a bit emotional for us. I admit, I was envious of the devout who filtered through the dark stone corridors, rubbing altars with pendants and scarves and lighting candles in the Orthodox shrines. This was the most powerful experience in the world for them. We felt a strong vicarious joy and reverence. The Church is teeming with sights. We first encountered the Stone of Anointing, a large slab set into the floor beneath lanterns on which Jesus was supposedly prepared for burial, though this story has only existed since the crusaders. Nuns in habits and laypeople alike were bent over it, muttering prayers as they touched the stone. To the left is the Stone of Calvary, a crevice in the rock wall which, supposedly, is the very wall that split when Christ died. I also heard a tour guide say in broken English that this is where Adam, the first man, is supposedly buried. (Note: Believe what you like. I simply blog what I heard.) Further within is the Chapel of St. Helen, Emperor Constantine's mother. People lined up to light candles within the tiny but ornate structure, the side of which remains charred and black from where it was burnt. On our way out, we rested in the courtyard of an Ethiopian monastery, took a few photos, and chatted in broken Hebrew with a friendly monk.

Next, we made our way slowly through the winding streets and stone archways toward the Jewish quarter, our end destination being the Kotel (also called the Western Wall, or the Wailing Wall). We were able to get closer than I had expected. We were three women, and I had heard only men can approach the wall. It's somewhat true. The plaza is divided by gender, with a very large open plaza for men, and a cramped area off to the side about 1/5 the size for women. We did peer over the fence and watched for a bit as a young boy had his bar mitzvah before the Wall. It wasn't Shabbat, so it wasn't too crowded. We hung back as women, heads wrapped in borrowed scarves, muttering from their own prayer books or taken from the shelf as you approach and swaying, heads occasionally pressed into the stones in silence. The women stood three rows deep, as there isn't enough room for them all to approach. Above, tiny scraps of paper filled every last nook and cranny. The papers bore short prayers written by visitors, and are considered so sacred, that when they are taken from the Wall, they are buried in a scared place.

We sat on the observation ledge for a while after in the afternoon sun, watching the plaza, smiling at a small Israeli boy who kept climbing over the stones and poking his head out to giggle at us, and planning our future visits. Then it was out of the city and back up Jaffa street, stopping on the way to the train stop for some quick falafel at a shop recommended by my advisor. (I'm already a food snob. 'Oh, you like falafel? Well you've only had American falafel, and believe me, you haven't lived til you've tried the real thing on the streets of Jerusalem..')

I made it back to my apartment just in time to finish my homework and promptly fall asleep on top of my books.

Technically, I shouldn't even be using my computer, so I shall say Shabbat Shalom for now!

The Armenian Bazaar

Me in front of a synagogue in the Jewish Quarter

The Temple Mount behind the Western Wall

Women praying at the Western Wall

Getting Grounded

Today’s post comes to you from a real live computer with a real live wifi connection. My access was limited to when I was on the campus (which is about a 20-minute walk from the student village where I live. Uphill, my legs would like to remind.) My last post was tapped out at 9:30 before the library closed on my iPod’s web browser. But right now I’m on my class break, enjoying the slightly cooler weather today (that would be 88F), sitting beside a waterfall and some tombs carved into the white rocks as at least 7 of Jerusalem’s hordes of stray cats patter around me in the Hebrew University’s botanical garden. Just an ordinary day in Jerusalem.

Today is only our third day of study, but I feel like I’ve been learning Hebrew for much longer. Granted, we still don’t know the whole alphabet (still can’t spell the word for ‘money.’ Slightly problematic), but today I played the role of a humble shopkeeper greeting her customers and selling nothing but coffee, oranges, and vodka. I had a few other items that we know the words for, but those were the big sellers. So at least I know I could have a lucrative career here as a shopkeeper. (Don’t worry, the ‘vodka’ was just a water bottle, but we had 3 other bottles of ‘mayim’ for sale, so our teacher wanted to shake things up a bit.)

I just took a break from writing this to have a conversation with one of the cats. He said ‘meow.’ I replied in kind. He moved on. Some things are universal.

After learning a handful of food words, my flatmate and I returned to the grocery store (h’super) to test our knowledge. It went abysmally. It turns out our reading still needs a lot of work, but there was a great moment of triumph when I successfully read the label on the hummus, which read ‘hummus.’ I maintain that the picture of the chickpeas on the lid aided me in no way and it was a pure testament to my Hebrew proficiency.

I’m living just outside of the main campus in an apartment. Five of us have a shared living space while each having our own rooms. There’s me. Next door is my friend from Wellesley (there are three of us here in total. So much better knowing a few people while you’re here.) Norika is next to her. She’s from Japan and has pretty much kept to herself, so I don’t even know what she’s studying here. Then there’s Dima and Acham (my best guess at an English spelling), Israeli students who have been living here for a year or two, which meant our apartment wasn’t sparse as some students had but beautifully decorated and, more importantly, stocked with pots, pans, and a microwave. Small mercies.

Last night, we bought a bottle of Israeli wine (and pudding, because that was one of the first food words we learned, and if you talk about a food 6 hours a day, a girl can get a craving), and sat down in our ‘living room’ with Dima and Acham and chatted about Isreal, study, food, and where to go in the city as the evening call to prayer filtered through our open window overlooking the heart of Jerusalem. I felt so cultured.

The view from our hilltop is amazing. The University sits atop Mt. Scopus, ‘the overlook,’ and from my room, I can see from the Temple Mount in the Old City to the far hills of the surrounding villages. I wasn’t kidding about the weather. This week’s high is 90F on the Sabbath, but it depends where you are.  I’m outside at about 10 am, but between 1-3 pm is killer. If you have to be outside, load up on sunscreen and water. I have not, without being hyperbolic, seen one single cloud since I have been here. Not a one. Just blue skies and heat. And the haze that hangs over the valleys in the cities. It’s something about being so far below sea level, but I prefer the words of the poet Yehuda Amichai:

“The air over Jerusalem is saturated with prayers 
and dreams 
like the air over industrial cities.
It’s hard to breathe.”

My friends and I have chosen this cooler day to travel into the Old City after class (via the spiffy new Light Rail), since we must have our arms, legs, and collarbones covered as women. Plus, we can’t go tomorrow. All public transportation shuts down on the Sabbath. That’s in Jerusalem, though. Travel outside the City, and it’s much more secular. Tel Aviv for example does not sleep.

My first full day here, I met up after class with my advisor, who was also staying in the City. We went to the Israel Museum and toured the archaelogical wing, discussed pieces I’d studied in class, and I got tons of backstory behind the objects. We went to dinner in a restraunt just off of the Shuk, or ‘marketplace,’ a bustling area of stalls and shoppers. We had delicious food: blue fin on watermelon, curried salmon, and semolina cake for me. That day, I probably walked the length of the city, skirting around Old City. It was so beautiful.

Back to class now!

Lahitra’ot! (Goodbye!)

Flights from Hell and Saints on Earth

Or, whatever the Jewish equivalent is. (Do they have anything like saints? My education begins.)

This has been. The. Longest. Day. I'm now past hour 36 and going strong. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

It started yesterday at 7 am as I travelled to Newark airport. At check-in, I was ready for the Spanish Inquisition that awaits anyone flying to Israel (you might say I expected it), but I was unprepared to be called into a back room, strip-searched, and have my iPod and Kindle, which many people on the plane had, confiscated as "flagged machines" (How many lights are there, Picard?) That was fun. I was then escorted onto the plane, since it had already boarded while an El Al agent and I got to know each other much better. Then, the 11-hour flight began.

My movie screen thing worked for exactly 14 minutes (no spoilers for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, please) at which point it went kaput. My Kindle and iPod were nought to be found, so I people-watched until dinner (couldn't eat it, though the hummus was good), after which I tried to sleep.

Tried, of course, being the operative word.

The woman next to me, who, curse the day, I was oh so quick to judge, proceeded to prod me awake to assist her with the overhead light. Across the aisle, a gaggle of women stood talking to a seated passenger, forcing anyone who needed to pass to have to sit on me just to get by, not to mention every time they themselves would jostle me. But the true icing on the cake, the true crusty topping on the creme brule, the real frosted coating on my wheaty breakfast cereal, was the baby.

Now I love babies. Probably too much. (Say it with me, "Kidnapping is wrong.") But this little girl screamed for 11 hours straight. I do not mean she cried most of the flight. I do not mean she had a somewhat annoying cry. I mean precisely what I said--she screamed for 11 hours straight. She was still screaming in the front row as we disembarked.

I am at breaking point with this flight. It never ends, I have no way to kill the time, sleeping included, and I barely know what I'm doing once I get there. But, the woman next to me, saint on Earth, starts chatting in English. She learns that I'm going to study, and we chat about the Bible and languages and Israel. She was returning home from visiting her sister and assured me Israel was a welcoming place. As we started to land, she reached into her purse.

"Here," she said in thick but intelligible English, "I have many, many of these. You take this one." She hands me a tiny, palm-sized Bible written in tiny Hebrew. The cover was almost worn through, but the pages were clean.

I tried to refuse her offer, but she just pressed it into my hand and said, "You are very welcome her ein Israel." She made the whole nasty flight worth it.

However, she couldn't make up for the shuttle ride to the University. Israel is fond of shared cabs, called a "sherut." It costs about a quarter of a cab. The catch being that you have to wait until it fills with 10 passegers, and you may have to wait while they are all dropped off. Like if your University is on the far side of the City. Or if there's crazy traffic. Or if your driver has to get to a funeral and shunts you into a taxi.

But I made it in the end. The city is gorgeous, pictures to come.

-C

Travel Time

Ok, I'm all packed. I've managed to fit 5 weeks worth of things in one very large checkable bag, a tiny carry on, and a backpack. I didn't know I could manage like this. Remind me to take much less to college in the fall.

I drive four hours down to Newark today (the closest place I could get a direct flight), then fly out tomorrow afternoon, and touch down in Tel Aviv at 7 am their time. (For those keeping score at home, it's 7 hours ahead of EST). I'm nervous to travel around on my own and for the fun job of finding my way to campus from the airport. But the program offered a group flight on the same one I'm on (bought my own ticket in advance, so tough luck for me, but I got it cheaper, so.), so hopefully I might meet some other students on the flight.

There is a strong probability that I will NOT have internet in my dorm (cue violin chords from Psycho), but there's a library with internet, so I can at least update this every so often. But this of course makes me wonder what I'm going to do with my evenings (Study, says my parents.) Also, if you need to contact me, I will not be as prompt. I will not have my phone, but my email (cbach@wellesley.edu) will be the first thing I check, so that's the best way to reach me.

Other than that, keep your eyes peeled for updates, wish me luck (I can do this, right? Right?), and I'll see you all in August!

-C

Preparations

Just a week and a half to go now. Very exciting!

There have been some, shall we say, headaches in getting everything in order. Wellesley lost my first transcript, so my acceptance was delayed by quite a bit, which I found out while I was in Amsterdam and could do nothing to help. Just this week, I was accepted to the program, reserved my housing, paid my bill, and learned what it was like to spend $2,500 in one go. I've got a direct flight (thank you god of air travel), and I'll be touching down in Tel Aviv the day before my program starts!

So now that ll that stress is out of the way, I have to think about being there. Make my food/living budget (oh, the falafel I shall cook) and figure out what to pack. Naturally, I went clothes shopping and bought some lovely floor length, super lightweight skirts. I needed something of modest length for visiting Holy sites but still cool enough for the Israeli summer heat.

But the rest is minutia. So for now, it's pack pack pack.

Next post coming to you from Israel!


C