Mr. Cheap's

Or, in case you were worried my time in Israel was all glitz and glamour.

Because shabbat begins in Friday, the Israeli weekend is Friday and Saturday, meaning it was back to class today after only one night off this week. We took the lone opportunity for some much needed rest. I saw neither of my Wellesley friends until 2 pm. Likewise, they didn't see me. We hung out in the apartment, ate lunch, and swapped around our college courses for a while. (You can take the girl out of the Wellesley, but...) We kept quiet and to ourselves until 8 pm or so, when we started to get ready to go out.

We learned a lot about nightlife in Jerusalem this week. Like the fact that the light rail does indeed run until midnight on saturdays, but doesn't start until 8 pm due to shabbat. Like the fact that Thursday is actually the better night out, again, because of shabbat, and while Saturday is still popular, things do not get going until at least midnight.

But we blundered out nevertheless, headed for a small pub recommended by two separate guide books and our flatmates, Dima and Ahlam. The Uganda, named for the alternative country offered as a Jewish home state, is very, well, alternative (I was right at home.) Around the pub are vinyls, cds, books, and comic books for sale, great music streaming from a side room, and seating out front to enjoy the cool night. We poked around for a bit before trying an Israeli beer in my case (Goldstar. Not bad.) and a Middle Eastern liquor called Arak in the case of the others (which was pulpy and, respectfully, disgusting.)

We were clearly too early for things to get going, but we enjoyed hanging out. While we were there, we started to hear cheering from the main road a block away. We peeked around the corner to see a large crowd parading through the streets, banging drums, and waving flags. A protest. (Mom, I see you, and I am fine. We are all fine. Everyone in the city is fine. The cats we saw in the alley way, barring any large birds, were all fine.)

At first, it was hard to tell what their cause was. They were loud but orderly, and security followed along with them the whole way. All I could read was one of their flags that bore general Israeli-isms, like "From The Land," a phrase similar to this blog title. Jordan caught the phrase "social justice" as she was taking photos. Half the crowd at least was photographers, since it was in the heart of the bustling city center, so it seemed larger than it was. Once they moved on, Amon, a man at the bar, explained to us that they were a young group not unlike the American "Occupy ____" movement (whose protests I have also bumped into and found to be much more violent and imposing than this). They were young, angry, and not really specific or unified about what. It had become a fad, again like Occupy, for them to protest at odd times like clubbing nights so they could break off and go clubbing themselves. Sure enough, two young guys with flags entered the pub not five minutes later. On our walk back, we saw others distributed amongst the other bars and clubs. Two birds with one stone, I suppose.

Remembering class the next morning (and our impending first quiz), we decided to cut our night short and caught the last train back to campus.

Today is a rest day. Going into town every day gets exhausting, so today I nap, take some pictures of the dry dirt path leading to campus, practice telling time (currently, hasha'a reva v'shalosh) and go grocery shopping at Mr. Cheap's.

Yes, that is what it is called. At first, we couldn't read the label on the doors of the grocery store two blocks north of the village. But the vegetables were good and the prices fine, so we didn't worry. Now that we can read, it actually just says 'supermarket,' but according to one student, it's a chain called Mr. Zol, or, in English, Mr. Cheap. That is the name of my grocery store. Yes, we live the classy life at the Hebrew University.

But I haven't died of scurvy, and a bag of pasta costs me 3 shekels (that's $0.75), so I'm not going to complain. That said, I should probably buy something new this week. I eat an apple in the morning, a bag of cereal at my class break, and a pita with hummus for lunch. Dinner is pasta and sauteed spinach. Every day. And while this is a good, vaguely balanced diet, one can get tired of it. I could buy my lunch at the Rothberg cafeteria. The prices aren't bad--14 shekels ($3.50) for a sandwich, and sometimes they have falafel and chips or vegetarian schnitzel, but I am cheap and prefer to pack my Mr. Zol's lunch. Maybe I will a few days this week just to avoid going mad. And I'm on shabbat duty this week. I'll be cooking the big weekly meal for us, so I'll have to come up with something interesting to make for that. But it's only fresh falafel and pickles or curried salmon when we go out. Otherwise, I eat the Israeli equivalent of microwave ramen.

I just learned where the hot water switch for the shower (whose door has just broken off), and hitherto had been taking cold showers. Which are actually quite nice here (88 F all week), however, this was a pleasing discovery. A less pleasing discovery was the fact that no one here uses driers (And I can see why not, to be fair), so I acquired some hangers for hang drying my clothes, and each apartment has a line outside its bathroom. And before acquiring a can opener, we were opening diced tomatoes with a knife and frying pan (sharp point + blunt force = tomatoes.)

So lest you think my summer is all wandering aimlessly beneath shiny golden domes, remember that I shop at Mr. Cheap's.

I wanted to experience Israel. To really feel what it was like to live there. And I'm getting that, so I shall embrace Mr. Zol with open arms. And go to Tel Aviv next weekend instead.