So much time has gone by since Israel. With all that's going on right now, I've been reflecting on my time (in a personal, not political way).
I've done so much since I came back home. I'm back at Wellesley College, taking classes like Archaeology and a seminar on Apocalypses and Armageddons. Junior year of college creeps up on you. Your future starts hanging over you. But I love what I'm doing, and that's all you can ask for. Our Shakespeare Society put on Henry IV Part 1 in which I had (have I should say--at the time of writing this, we have 3 more nights to perform) the role of Hotspur as well as the producer for the show. It's been a lot of work but one of the best challenges I have undertaken. Outside of class, that ends up consuming your life, and outside of work for the show, I haven't had a lot of time for much else. Without speaking every day, my Hebrew's fallen behind a bit, but my Hebrew copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban keeps me in shape. I've also taken up archery. I signed up for the PE class, and I've actually gotten pretty good. I tied for first in an on-campus tournament a couple weeks ago, and my coach is encouraging me to keep going after this semester.
If you'd asked me three months ago, I would have said, "Yes. I will definitely be going back to Israel." Now I'm not so sure. Current political/dangerous climate or no, I don't know that I'm as much a one for travel as I thought, and I'm honestly enjoying being home a lot more than I thought. It's a large part of why I never made a final entry. I made it home and I wanted to let it all slip behind me. I had memories and stories and photos, but I wanted to let myself be here and not have to dredge up all the sensations of being there again.
After I returned, I kept describing my feeling as not "culture shock" but "cultural exhaustion." Granted I was only there about 2 months, but after a while, especially when you don't speak the language, there's something grating about every time you want to read a sign--you have to work. If you want to buy food--you have to work. Everything takes focus and effort. Nothing is entirely familiar, so there's this constant sense of displacement. And on top of it all, Jerusalem is filled with a tragic air of tension that is tiring. It's a beautiful city full of such wonders, and it's constantly undercut with religious and political tension. I described the palpability of the city's holiness, but the tension is no less tangible, and the two strain to mix together. And it's exhausting to be in that mix. So as much as I loved Jerusalem and Israel and everything it has to offer, I am in no rush to return. I know I'll get restless again and eventually want to travel somewhere, but maybe not somewhere so tense (and of course, if Wellesley wants to give me another grant, who am I to say no?). Until then, I'm content here.
But I'm looking back because Israel finds me here. In memories and in the news.
When I was there, I commented on the daily interplay the Israeli-Palestinian conflict created. I see it again now in America. Facebook posts from friends from Jerusalem 'calling out' Hamas propaganda are followed immediately by Muslim friends shaming the President's response to the situation. Overseas, lives are being lost, and here, friends are being lost in petty argument sover right and wrong. I say petty not because I feel the conflict is so but that reducing it to name-calling arguments about religious rights, propaganda, and who's in the wrong is both petty and insulting to those who are suffering. So long as these arguments are our responses to these events, they will continue. Both acts of war and our responses to them propagate a culture of hate in any direction.
This is an issue of life. Human life. No less.
So for now, my blog is concluded. My time in Israel is done. I've finally closed out my thoughts. And I'm moving along. I may use this space for other related thoughts in the future, but for now I'm done.
Thank you, readers, for enjoying this blog and checking so frequently as you did. It was lovely to know while I was there you were all out there staying updated.
But for now, on to the next adventure.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Winding Down
Much as I adore this city, I'm looking forward to going home. Five and a half weeks is a long time, and since it's always go go go between class and touring and studying (and remembering to do things like feed yourself and do laundry), it's an exhausting month.
Katie and I are having a hectic night of packing, sweeping and studying. We have our final exam tomorrow morning. Katie leaves that night and I the following night (at midnight. Yipee.)
I will miss my class immensely. I know I keep describing them this way, but they really are an incredibly diverse group. I've learned from each and every one of them. And they've become my friends. I'm grateful to have shared this with them.
Mostly, I'm impressed by how much Hebrew I know. I know after two years of Greek, a speakable language is just plain novel, but I've loved learning it. It's a beautiful language, which I admit, with all its "ccchhhhhh"s, I didn't expect. (Also known as the letter chet.) I love that it's revived from a dead language purely for the sake of speaking something that much closer to the sacred texts. Not only is the language beautiful--its purpose is. It's also been a while since I'v been able to speak something other than English so, well, close to, fluently. I can talk to locals on the streets about why they love a particular falafel shop or catch words fo their muttered prayers at the Kotel or explain to an old woman how to buy a train ticket.
All of this, I will deeply miss. Nevertheless, I cannot wait to be home. Though a big hurdle remains in my way. If you recall my post about my flight here, you might understand why I am just a teensy bit nervous to fly home. (Fingers crossed I can hang on to my Kindle this time?) An 11 Hour flight plus 5 or so killing time in Ben Gurion airport. Tuesday will be, in short, a very long day. But I can handle it. All in the name of going home.
I hadn't planned to blog about my own faith. On the other hand, I hadn't planned on being affected by the city either. After all, why should I? It is, despite everything, just a city. Yes, there ar sites and places of importance, but that's all that makes it the Holy Land, right? The remains of history.
But I was wrong. I come back time and time again to that poem by Yehuda Amichai. The air over Jerusalem is saturated with prayers and dreams like the air over industrial cities. It's hard to breathe." I first encountered these words at the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit in New York and thought them beautiful, but I didn't understand them. This city--this country--is so saturated with hope and prayer. If I could believe anywhere that faith and prayers and devotion could become tangible, it would be here. Maybe that's what all the haze in the air is. Every act, every thought is made in adherence to a religion. The faith comes first. It's there, even if you're not devout yourself. The city operates on a schedule according to Shabbat. Ramadan gongs and fireworks fill the air night after night. On a Jewish day of fasting, the whole city drags and lulls in a quiet reverence. Hasidic men in tall black hats brush past women in flowing dresses and hijabs. Crowds of visitors wait to catch the bus across from the Ethiopian Monastery in the Russian Compound. I know I'm making it sound like peace and roses when in reality there is so much conflict based on these very things. But my point is that to almost everyone walking these streets--this is a special place. A Holy place. And that belief carries. To the point where you can't help but feel it as you walk along the streets with everyone.
This is a Holy Land. Be it inherently so or made so by the belief of those in it is irrelevant. It is here. And that's what saddens me most about the conflict here. This is a place that should be shared. Palestinian, Israeli, the whole world. It is a place of peace surrounded by its antithesis.
I'll probably post once more from home with the story of my flight (Maybe there won't be much to tell this time?) and some final reflections, as well as a massive pile of photos, but don't worry. I promise you'll know when it's the final post--no guess work. Nevertheless, next one will be coming to you from back stateside.
Katie and I are having a hectic night of packing, sweeping and studying. We have our final exam tomorrow morning. Katie leaves that night and I the following night (at midnight. Yipee.)
I will miss my class immensely. I know I keep describing them this way, but they really are an incredibly diverse group. I've learned from each and every one of them. And they've become my friends. I'm grateful to have shared this with them.
Mostly, I'm impressed by how much Hebrew I know. I know after two years of Greek, a speakable language is just plain novel, but I've loved learning it. It's a beautiful language, which I admit, with all its "ccchhhhhh"s, I didn't expect. (Also known as the letter chet.) I love that it's revived from a dead language purely for the sake of speaking something that much closer to the sacred texts. Not only is the language beautiful--its purpose is. It's also been a while since I'v been able to speak something other than English so, well, close to, fluently. I can talk to locals on the streets about why they love a particular falafel shop or catch words fo their muttered prayers at the Kotel or explain to an old woman how to buy a train ticket.
All of this, I will deeply miss. Nevertheless, I cannot wait to be home. Though a big hurdle remains in my way. If you recall my post about my flight here, you might understand why I am just a teensy bit nervous to fly home. (Fingers crossed I can hang on to my Kindle this time?) An 11 Hour flight plus 5 or so killing time in Ben Gurion airport. Tuesday will be, in short, a very long day. But I can handle it. All in the name of going home.
I hadn't planned to blog about my own faith. On the other hand, I hadn't planned on being affected by the city either. After all, why should I? It is, despite everything, just a city. Yes, there ar sites and places of importance, but that's all that makes it the Holy Land, right? The remains of history.
But I was wrong. I come back time and time again to that poem by Yehuda Amichai. The air over Jerusalem is saturated with prayers and dreams like the air over industrial cities. It's hard to breathe." I first encountered these words at the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit in New York and thought them beautiful, but I didn't understand them. This city--this country--is so saturated with hope and prayer. If I could believe anywhere that faith and prayers and devotion could become tangible, it would be here. Maybe that's what all the haze in the air is. Every act, every thought is made in adherence to a religion. The faith comes first. It's there, even if you're not devout yourself. The city operates on a schedule according to Shabbat. Ramadan gongs and fireworks fill the air night after night. On a Jewish day of fasting, the whole city drags and lulls in a quiet reverence. Hasidic men in tall black hats brush past women in flowing dresses and hijabs. Crowds of visitors wait to catch the bus across from the Ethiopian Monastery in the Russian Compound. I know I'm making it sound like peace and roses when in reality there is so much conflict based on these very things. But my point is that to almost everyone walking these streets--this is a special place. A Holy place. And that belief carries. To the point where you can't help but feel it as you walk along the streets with everyone.
This is a Holy Land. Be it inherently so or made so by the belief of those in it is irrelevant. It is here. And that's what saddens me most about the conflict here. This is a place that should be shared. Palestinian, Israeli, the whole world. It is a place of peace surrounded by its antithesis.
I'll probably post once more from home with the story of my flight (Maybe there won't be much to tell this time?) and some final reflections, as well as a massive pile of photos, but don't worry. I promise you'll know when it's the final post--no guess work. Nevertheless, next one will be coming to you from back stateside.
Monday, July 23, 2012
What a Country
So we have but one week left in Israel. Which means Katie and I had to pare down what we had left to do and create a Bucket-List-schedule which uses every minute of our remaining time. On tap for the week is Yad Vashem--the Holocaust museum, one more trip to the Old City, the Mount of Olives, the Dead Sea, and Tel-Aviv. That's right folks. We're finally going to leave Jerusalem.
This weekend's Shabbat was fairly quiet. Katie and I made fried rice (with curry powder, our only spice, and one we have grown quite fond of. It is amazing how many things you can put curry powder on.) and watched a movie. Before that, we went to the opening day showing of Dark Knight Rises with a good chunk of our class. Aleph 1 seems to appreciate their Chris Nolan films.
That thursday, we didn't really feel like clubbing, so we went shopping from 4 to 8pm, joined two of our classmates, bought many souvenirs (highlight: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in Hebrew. You shall be conquered.), ate delicious cheap falafel, and haggled haggled haggled. I will not miss the haggling. At all. I'm really awful at it, and I admit I had to have Katie do it for me once. She's a professional, after all.
Ramadan began last week, so there have been fireworks and banging all night, every night. Once again, I speak without hyperbole. By 1 am, you start to wonder who's even watching the fireworks.
But one of the things that's struck me most about my time in Jerusalem is some of the subtler differences to America. Yes, of course, being in a different country always poses it's challenges. But living in America, and furthermore going to a liberal women's college in that country, has made it easy to forget that there are still places where the standard of behavior is treated women unequally. I am not speaking of religious garb or practices--the rules of Orthodoxy may seem antiquated or sexist to an outside eye, but speaking to people has taught me a lot about why the follow the practices in the first place. No, I'm actually speaking about me and the other students.
Mt. Scopus campus of the Hebrew University is just above Jerusalem, technically in the heart of an Arab village. In fact, most of our views include the large steel wall separating Palestine. And in Jerusalem, codes of dress vary depending on where you are. Going into the Old City or a Jewish neighborhood, I would cover my knees and elbows. Around campus, everyone dresses like your average American college student, so I wear shorts in the 98 degree weather freely. And every time, particularly in the evenings, I or Katie, or even other students we see walking in front of us, have left my dorm with my elbows uncovered, I am honked and/or shouted at by young men in cars. It's never threatening or invasive. Just honking. I talked to some locals and frequent students who said that that's just the norm here. That is simply how they are taught to regard women. One woman simply rolled her eyes and muttered, "Those Arab boys."
Was she right? Would it be different in a Jewish neighborhood? It's possible. Religious codes of behavior are a huge divide in this city, among others. Sometimes, behavior like this is used to separate themselves further from each other. I hadn't learned a lot about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict before I came here. After all, when you do, it's always one side, and America is officially pro-Israel. But just being here, seeing it all, and listening to people has taught me more about this conflict that I ever could have learned. All you have to do is listen. The same woman who made the marginally-racist comment about the sexist boys in the village gave us a full explanation of her very pro-Israel stance one night. Once again, marginally-racist described it well, but I just listened, even encouraged with questions. Because that's the only way to understand. Meanwhile, I read the museum pamphlets my Palestinian flatmate left on the table, directly citing the Palestinians as "the last victims of the holocaust" for having been ousted by the Jews. I take classes in a building where I look left to see the steel dividing wall and look right to see the golden dome of the mosque built on the Temple Mount. I am completely fascinated by this country. I want to come back. Because I want to see a peaceful end to this conflict. And because all of this sits on top of some of the greatest history in our world. And these weeks of experiencing all of that has taught me more than I ever thought I would learn.
This weekend's Shabbat was fairly quiet. Katie and I made fried rice (with curry powder, our only spice, and one we have grown quite fond of. It is amazing how many things you can put curry powder on.) and watched a movie. Before that, we went to the opening day showing of Dark Knight Rises with a good chunk of our class. Aleph 1 seems to appreciate their Chris Nolan films.
That thursday, we didn't really feel like clubbing, so we went shopping from 4 to 8pm, joined two of our classmates, bought many souvenirs (highlight: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in Hebrew. You shall be conquered.), ate delicious cheap falafel, and haggled haggled haggled. I will not miss the haggling. At all. I'm really awful at it, and I admit I had to have Katie do it for me once. She's a professional, after all.
Ramadan began last week, so there have been fireworks and banging all night, every night. Once again, I speak without hyperbole. By 1 am, you start to wonder who's even watching the fireworks.
But one of the things that's struck me most about my time in Jerusalem is some of the subtler differences to America. Yes, of course, being in a different country always poses it's challenges. But living in America, and furthermore going to a liberal women's college in that country, has made it easy to forget that there are still places where the standard of behavior is treated women unequally. I am not speaking of religious garb or practices--the rules of Orthodoxy may seem antiquated or sexist to an outside eye, but speaking to people has taught me a lot about why the follow the practices in the first place. No, I'm actually speaking about me and the other students.
Mt. Scopus campus of the Hebrew University is just above Jerusalem, technically in the heart of an Arab village. In fact, most of our views include the large steel wall separating Palestine. And in Jerusalem, codes of dress vary depending on where you are. Going into the Old City or a Jewish neighborhood, I would cover my knees and elbows. Around campus, everyone dresses like your average American college student, so I wear shorts in the 98 degree weather freely. And every time, particularly in the evenings, I or Katie, or even other students we see walking in front of us, have left my dorm with my elbows uncovered, I am honked and/or shouted at by young men in cars. It's never threatening or invasive. Just honking. I talked to some locals and frequent students who said that that's just the norm here. That is simply how they are taught to regard women. One woman simply rolled her eyes and muttered, "Those Arab boys."
Was she right? Would it be different in a Jewish neighborhood? It's possible. Religious codes of behavior are a huge divide in this city, among others. Sometimes, behavior like this is used to separate themselves further from each other. I hadn't learned a lot about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict before I came here. After all, when you do, it's always one side, and America is officially pro-Israel. But just being here, seeing it all, and listening to people has taught me more about this conflict that I ever could have learned. All you have to do is listen. The same woman who made the marginally-racist comment about the sexist boys in the village gave us a full explanation of her very pro-Israel stance one night. Once again, marginally-racist described it well, but I just listened, even encouraged with questions. Because that's the only way to understand. Meanwhile, I read the museum pamphlets my Palestinian flatmate left on the table, directly citing the Palestinians as "the last victims of the holocaust" for having been ousted by the Jews. I take classes in a building where I look left to see the steel dividing wall and look right to see the golden dome of the mosque built on the Temple Mount. I am completely fascinated by this country. I want to come back. Because I want to see a peaceful end to this conflict. And because all of this sits on top of some of the greatest history in our world. And these weeks of experiencing all of that has taught me more than I ever thought I would learn.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Three pairs of pants, four train tickets, a mysterious bottle of soda, and a bar of chocolate
Or, today's purchases. Partridge in pear tree not included.
After class today, Ibegged politely asked Katie to take me to the store near the Central bus station where she and Jordan bought these beautiful stretchy pants on our first day. They're loose, silky pants that come in gorgeous colors and hang low around your knees. If you happen to watch Downton Abbey, they're not unlike Sybil's dress pants. If you don't happen to watch Downton Abbey, I would advise you to correct this immediately.
What made this a slightly poor decision was the fact that today is the hottest day it has been so far. (98 F. And yet it's Day 25 without a cloud in sight.) But it was worth it, as we emerged with three new pairs of pants between us, not to mention having a good look at a different local shopping district. Whereas Ben Yehuda is clothes and kitsch, Central is food stands and dollar-store like shops. Let the record show that my two pairs cost a total of 30 shekels. For those who aren't familiar with the conversion rate, that would be $7.50 total. Yeah. I like shopping here.
We stopped at the grocery store for a few things on the way home and left with an illegibly labelled bottle of soda for Katie and a chocolate bar for me. Toda robah, Mr. Zol's.
Last night, we had a movie night with our class, Aleph 1, as well as James's wife. We baked cookies in a real apartment, watched Inception on a real TV, and talked about it for two hours on a real couch. It was a very momentous night for us. I've been spending a lot of time with my classmates; they're so diverse but all such great people. I'm so lucky to have gotten to meet them. Some I'm sure will remain my friends.
I've hit my food limit. I'd eaten almost entirely vegan since I've been here. This week I caved and bought eggs and a small amount of meat. But one can get tired of rice, couscous, pasta, apples, tomatoes, pita, and hummus. That might sound like a lot, but that is all I eat. That is it. I just told my mom over Skype that when I get home, the first thing we will do is go to a Thai restaurant, and I will order every bowl of noodles and hot chicken that they have. All of them. But, it's two weeks from today that I fly home, so I think I can last.
But it's something to look forward to.
After class today, I
What made this a slightly poor decision was the fact that today is the hottest day it has been so far. (98 F. And yet it's Day 25 without a cloud in sight.) But it was worth it, as we emerged with three new pairs of pants between us, not to mention having a good look at a different local shopping district. Whereas Ben Yehuda is clothes and kitsch, Central is food stands and dollar-store like shops. Let the record show that my two pairs cost a total of 30 shekels. For those who aren't familiar with the conversion rate, that would be $7.50 total. Yeah. I like shopping here.
We stopped at the grocery store for a few things on the way home and left with an illegibly labelled bottle of soda for Katie and a chocolate bar for me. Toda robah, Mr. Zol's.
Last night, we had a movie night with our class, Aleph 1, as well as James's wife. We baked cookies in a real apartment, watched Inception on a real TV, and talked about it for two hours on a real couch. It was a very momentous night for us. I've been spending a lot of time with my classmates; they're so diverse but all such great people. I'm so lucky to have gotten to meet them. Some I'm sure will remain my friends.
I've hit my food limit. I'd eaten almost entirely vegan since I've been here. This week I caved and bought eggs and a small amount of meat. But one can get tired of rice, couscous, pasta, apples, tomatoes, pita, and hummus. That might sound like a lot, but that is all I eat. That is it. I just told my mom over Skype that when I get home, the first thing we will do is go to a Thai restaurant, and I will order every bowl of noodles and hot chicken that they have. All of them. But, it's two weeks from today that I fly home, so I think I can last.
But it's something to look forward to.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Back to it
Hello, readers.
I apologize for the break in posting. It's been a very difficult week for all of us. While respecting her privacy, I will tell you that Jordan was in an accident here in Israel. Her family is with her now, and she's going to be ok. It's been a tough week for me and Katie, but it's important to me to start blogging again.
So there have been some interesting things this week. Tonight, for example, Katie and I are going to our second weekly Bible study with classmates of ours. I admit, I went mostly out of curiosity, but I end up enjoying myself very much (and not only because there were cookies and soda. I may or may not have eaten like I had not seen food before. Oh, please let there be more cookies tonight.)
Our host is Terho, a Finnish Lutheran pastor living here with his wife and three adorable and energetic sons (half an hour of the Study was a rousing game of 'Throw the Hat.') In attendance were me and Katie, Taylor, an American of an interesting religion he calls 'Hebrew Roots' (for example, he wears a kipa and prayer shawl, but is a Christian), Bernadette, a German, Marianne, the Norwegian student we went to the museum with, James and Kate, American Mormons, and Min, a Korean. I really love the diversity of the group. I mostly just listened, but I love hearing everyone's perspectives and reflections of their faith.
We discussed Psalm 1, reading it first in our respective languages. It was pretty beautiful that way.
We managed to get out a bit more during the week. Thursday night, the start of the weekend, we met up with the Hannahs, two of our classmates, in the heart of the city for a bit of food, pubbing, and gelato. We returned to the Uganda, and this time is was hopping with people and musicians. Much more like it. After that, we grabbed a bit of falafel and wandered around the bustling night life and enjoyed getting out in the night air.
We shared shabbat dinner this week with Jin, a recent MIT grad Katie met here, and Sarah, a roommate of Jordan's. Katie took her turn cooking and made what I will rightfully declare the most delicious stuffed peppers, impressively cooked in a toaster oven (due to a severe case of lack of an oven.) Curried rice, tomatoes, garlic pasta, white wine, grapes, challah, and dried fruit--oh, we feasted. We had the traditional eating from 5 to 10 pm and just talked and got to know each other. Katie and I felt that this prepared us for our future roles as dinner-party hosts (Not, mind you, because we are women, but because we happen to enjoy dinner parties. I think they're classy.) So we set out our little coffee table with plates and everything. And then took pictures with it in aprons. Sometimes, you just have to be silly.
Saturday, we had some time to kill in the city after we'd gotten there but before public transportation started back up again once Shabbat was over (9 pm. sigh.) We walked around our usual haunt--Ben Yehuda and Jaffa Streets, only this time, everything was completely shut and the streets empty but for a few children playing ball or women walking together. It was so peaceful, and Katie and I sat on a bench and just talked for hours. We had time to get pizza and/or burgers and some ice cream (and the most amazing melon sorbet) before it was onto the light rail to finally head back to campus.
Today's class was particularly good. We went on a 'field trip' to the campus rooftops and the ba'it knesset (synagogue), and I and several others stayed after for a talking practice room. Which meant an hour of conversation in Hebrew. I finally learned the word for actor, but I still, try as I might, cannot pronounce the infinitive form of 'to walk.' Still, the practice was helpful.
Afterward, I inadvertently hung around campus for another hour chatting with my classmate James about Feminism, Progressives, and families in America. I tell you, nothing feeds me more like good-natured intellectual debate. It's still a challenging discussion and well-articulated, but no one gets personally offended. The absolute best. He's someone I look forward to staying in touch with after the Ulpan, especially since he has archaeological contacts here in Israel.
Oh yes, folks. I will be back here again.
I apologize for the break in posting. It's been a very difficult week for all of us. While respecting her privacy, I will tell you that Jordan was in an accident here in Israel. Her family is with her now, and she's going to be ok. It's been a tough week for me and Katie, but it's important to me to start blogging again.
So there have been some interesting things this week. Tonight, for example, Katie and I are going to our second weekly Bible study with classmates of ours. I admit, I went mostly out of curiosity, but I end up enjoying myself very much (and not only because there were cookies and soda. I may or may not have eaten like I had not seen food before. Oh, please let there be more cookies tonight.)
Our host is Terho, a Finnish Lutheran pastor living here with his wife and three adorable and energetic sons (half an hour of the Study was a rousing game of 'Throw the Hat.') In attendance were me and Katie, Taylor, an American of an interesting religion he calls 'Hebrew Roots' (for example, he wears a kipa and prayer shawl, but is a Christian), Bernadette, a German, Marianne, the Norwegian student we went to the museum with, James and Kate, American Mormons, and Min, a Korean. I really love the diversity of the group. I mostly just listened, but I love hearing everyone's perspectives and reflections of their faith.
We discussed Psalm 1, reading it first in our respective languages. It was pretty beautiful that way.
We managed to get out a bit more during the week. Thursday night, the start of the weekend, we met up with the Hannahs, two of our classmates, in the heart of the city for a bit of food, pubbing, and gelato. We returned to the Uganda, and this time is was hopping with people and musicians. Much more like it. After that, we grabbed a bit of falafel and wandered around the bustling night life and enjoyed getting out in the night air.
We shared shabbat dinner this week with Jin, a recent MIT grad Katie met here, and Sarah, a roommate of Jordan's. Katie took her turn cooking and made what I will rightfully declare the most delicious stuffed peppers, impressively cooked in a toaster oven (due to a severe case of lack of an oven.) Curried rice, tomatoes, garlic pasta, white wine, grapes, challah, and dried fruit--oh, we feasted. We had the traditional eating from 5 to 10 pm and just talked and got to know each other. Katie and I felt that this prepared us for our future roles as dinner-party hosts (Not, mind you, because we are women, but because we happen to enjoy dinner parties. I think they're classy.) So we set out our little coffee table with plates and everything. And then took pictures with it in aprons. Sometimes, you just have to be silly.
Saturday, we had some time to kill in the city after we'd gotten there but before public transportation started back up again once Shabbat was over (9 pm. sigh.) We walked around our usual haunt--Ben Yehuda and Jaffa Streets, only this time, everything was completely shut and the streets empty but for a few children playing ball or women walking together. It was so peaceful, and Katie and I sat on a bench and just talked for hours. We had time to get pizza and/or burgers and some ice cream (and the most amazing melon sorbet) before it was onto the light rail to finally head back to campus.
Today's class was particularly good. We went on a 'field trip' to the campus rooftops and the ba'it knesset (synagogue), and I and several others stayed after for a talking practice room. Which meant an hour of conversation in Hebrew. I finally learned the word for actor, but I still, try as I might, cannot pronounce the infinitive form of 'to walk.' Still, the practice was helpful.
Afterward, I inadvertently hung around campus for another hour chatting with my classmate James about Feminism, Progressives, and families in America. I tell you, nothing feeds me more like good-natured intellectual debate. It's still a challenging discussion and well-articulated, but no one gets personally offended. The absolute best. He's someone I look forward to staying in touch with after the Ulpan, especially since he has archaeological contacts here in Israel.
Oh yes, folks. I will be back here again.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Jordan and Katie's Blogs
Hezekiah's Tunnel
I have to attempt something very important with this post. Namely, I have to successfully tell you all about our shabbat trip to Hezekiah's Tunnel in the City of David. I must do so without making it entirely about the screaming children who walked behind us the entire way through.
First of all, this is the test I warned you about. Did you read the wikipedia link on Hezekiah's Tunnel? If not, it's a water drench dug underneath of Jerusalem so that the city could have water in case of siege. They dug from two separate ends and met at the middle. How they managed that is incredible. In the tunnel itself, we saw several turns and brief dead ends where it appeared they had started to dig in one direction and quickly corrected their course. While the real inscription is now in the British Museum, another facsimile marks the place where the two teams met.
The entrance to the tunnel is beneath a place called the City of David, a park that somehow marks the ancient city and resembled the entrance to a water park more than anything else, with wood paneling, ticket windows, lockers, and shops. We'd walked there from the Kotel a few yards away, so the transition was unexpected.
This was one sight in particular we were eager to visit, despite the fact that we were...er, slightly nervous. The tunnel, you see, is exactly that. A tunnel. Built to carry water and perhaps not so many people. It's a 1500-foot walk through calf-deep water in total darkness, or at least it would be were it not for the flashlights carried by the line of visitors. At its widest, it's just wide enough for you to pass through comfortably. As far as height...we probably spent about a third of the time completely doubled over to fit through. Frankly, I can't believe I made it through. I had a moment of panic when we splashed into hip-deep water as the lit staircase gave way to black crags and curves. But, I took a deep breath, held onto the back of Jordan's backpack for dear life, and told myself I would regret chickening out. After that, once you're in, you're in. There isn't exactly room to turn around, so the only way out is onward. 1500 feet of sardine-squished of onward. Eventually, I told myself it wasn't so bad. Because that was the only option. It was completely worth it though. We were, after all, walking through a passage carved out some two to three thousand years ago. We occasionally had to grip onto the walls to keep from slipping in the water (or to catch a quickly floating away shoe), and Jordan wondered aloud how long they could keep the tunnel open before people's hands simply eroded the walls away. Our way back was confused. We were told that the quickest way back was through a second tunnel (Oh. Goody.), this time lit and dry, which spit us out in a park beneath the Western Wall. We didn't mind the detour and spent an extra time photographing around there.
But the thing was. The thing. We're lined up in there person to person, and behind us the entire way was a group of 14 or so year old school children. Who screamed. The entire way. 45 minutes of screaming. Sometimes screaming just for the hell of it. Sometimes to see who could do it loudest. And sometimes, and this was the best one, to see if a panic would catch on. Jordan tried asking their leader to ask them to stop, and he just looked at her blankly. It's stressful in the tunnel, and we were at our wit's end, as were all the other visitors in front of us. When we absolutely couldn't take it anymore, we saw the light, and emerged back into Jerusalem. Having been driven outright mad, I approached their leader and told him that their behavior in a place like this was inappropriate. He told me they were young and scared and that excused it. I said it didn't and left. (Scared children don't sing 'Somebody I Used to Know' and pretend there are rats at their feet.) Now, I am not one to approach people. Pretty much ever. And hey, maybe this was just my schools, but I knew if I had behaved like that on a school trip (first of all, my Dad came on all the trips, so it wouldn't matter what my school did because he would have actually killed me for such behavior. See, Dad? You totally taught me something.), if we had behaved so poorly that someone had to come up to one of the teachers and say something, we would've been in trouble until graduation. I was always taught when we travelled, we were representatives of our school and carried its reputation with us. Here, they also carried the reputation of their country in a Holy Land. I even remembered times in elementary school when our teacher would tell us about someone who had approached her on a school trip to say how well we behaved and why this was a good thing. Maybe this is just what I was taught. And maybe I was just so completely startled by people on whom this concept was lost, on people who thought an ancient archaeological site in a foreign country was equivalent to their morning school bus. And maybe 45 minutes of screaming pushes me to new limits.
So on our way out, Jordan asked a different leader the name of their school. Which we googled. And wrote a letter to. As of ten minutes ago, I had a response saying my comments would be considered in conjunction with other ones they had received about their good behavior. That's all I ask. And I felt better.
After that, it was back, in a round about sort of way, to campus, with a few wrong buses, a stop at an Ethiopian Church, for a much-needed shower and my turn to cook Shabbat dinner. I got a rose wine (l'chaim, which is in fact, Hebrew for 'to life.' Go figure.), fresh challah, apple cake, and cooked curried couscous with eggplant, tomatoes, pepper, chickpeas, and peas. It was, if I may say, delicious. Since we had to finish cooking by sundown, we sat and talked and ate from 5 until 10. We were later joined by Noriko, our flatmate, who shared ice cream with us. I very much enjoy the Sabbath.
Yesterday, I took the 'rest' concept of the Sabbath to heart and slept. Quite a lot. I spent the rest of the day catching up on some studying. When you do 25 hours of Hebrew class a week, it's easy to fall behind.
How long we're here for is starting to catch up with me. It feels like ages, and it hasn't yet been 2 weeks. Still three and a half to go. I suspect I will be exceptionally tired when I finally get home.
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| Inside the Hezekiah Tunnel |
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| Jordan in the Tunnel |
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| Park beneath the Wall |
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