a busy week

In what might be the last post before my post-Ulpan pre-Semester break (during which I'll be backpacking for 7 days in the Golan and Galilee), I'm not sure really what to post, because there hasn't been anything amazingly noteworthy, just a series of very cool events. So, here goes.

Last week my friend Meredith (who grew up in Cincinnati) made "Skyline Chili" which is apprently a very famous and delicious Chili in Ohio. They sell spice packets, and her family sent her 12 (more than enough for a year's worth of Chili) and she treated some midwesterners, a Floridian, and me, to Chili. It was surprisingly tasty. Really weird though - it's spagwetti, topped with the chili, and then cheese, beans, and onions. Meredith's account (and some very funny pictures) can be viewed here: http://buckeyeinisrael.blogspot.com/

Wedneday we had a song session in Ulpan; each class learned a song and then performed and taught it to the whole group. Kitah Daled learned a song called "Halavai" (which means "I wish/pray") and is by Boaz Sharabi. We also did a dance. Here's a picture of my class dancing and singing:







Thursday afternoon I went to the Museum on the Seam (the Coexistence Museusm to some of you) with Jaclyn and her SO Adam (who I know from Marin; blogged about in early July). The exhibit was called "Heartquake" and was about the "anxiety of the uncanny," something Fruedian to do with cross-cultural anxiety and something or other. It was okay. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to get out of it and a lot of the pieces were very weird. And a little disturbing. Adam's account of the museum, along with some neat pictures, can be seen here: http://adamcarlcohen.blogspot.com/

Thursday was also my friend Ari's erev birthday, and to celebrate a group of us went to a delicious and scrumptious Tapas bar (yes, Jerusalem is becoming even more international and global) for dinner. Then we went to a karaoke bar down the street where a good portion of our class met up with us for an evening of karaoke. Here are some pictures of people at dinner:


Lisa, Jim, Jason


Ari and Jaclyn


Ari and Me


Meredith and Me



Ari, Jaclyn, Lisa, Jim
(I think there was some confusion about where people should have been looking for this picture.)


The next day (Friday) I spent on the beach in Tel Aviv as part of another birthday celebration (during this week in August 8 of my classmates have birthdays. 8 out of 42. Crazy). Tel Aviv is a janky city. It's a lot like LA - a beach city, pretty people, hot and muggy, sprawling, industrial, cosmopolitan, kinda rundown, and it never sleeps. It was weird to be there on a Friday night and not have the city shut down as Shabbat comes in. In some ways, I'm getting very attuned to the onset of Shabbat and how the city settles down. I missed it. Here is the beach at sunset:







Saturday (talking about the city settling down) I left Jerusalem again for a hike, the first "official" big group hike of the year. It was awesome. We went on a tryptch of a hike, to three locations to see different historical ruins in the Judean hills. It was really nice. The best part was we needed to rent cars to get there, and I got to drive one of the cars because I'm 23 and can drive a manual. It was great. I miss driving, but I'm mostly pretty happy to be relying on bus, bike, and feet to get around.

Tomorrow (Tuesday) is the last day of Ulpan. Wednesday we have an all-day tiyul to Tel Meggido as part of our Biblical history class. I'm super excited. Thursday I have off, and then Friday we leave on a backpacking adventure.

Masada Mess - Part II

Continued from: Masada Mess - Part I!

Long story short, we got to Masada about 4:30, about a half hour after David Broza started playing. After being totally exhausted and dehydrated. After the worst bus ride of my life. After getting really pumped about seeing Broza live at Masada.

So we arrive, unloaded ourselves from the bus, and upon walking into the amphitheater, we had a view much like this:



And this:



And this:



We could see the stage clearly – it was a small crowd, no more than 800 people, and so we were definitely close despite our late arrival. For an outdoor concert, the sound was great. The lights, as well, were fabulous. They used Masada as a back drop, and had a whole light/pyrotechnic show on the mountain.

Broza himself, well, he was awesome. The last (and first) time I saw him was on Yom Haatzmaut in Kikkar Zion, in 2005. How can you top that performance? Sunrise concert at Masada - betach! He was rocking out. He plays a mean acoustic guitar, really rips into his songs. I'm not very familiar with his catalog, but all of his songs have heavy political and social connotations while rocking out. He played with this fabulous percussionist and bassist, and often the three of them were joined by lots of guests: a mondolin player, a violinist, and a group of young-hip-hippie looking musicians and singers who rocked and danced with Broza for the last few songs of the set.

And during the concert, the sun came up, and it got lighter and lighter until, during the set closure of “Under the sky” (his best song, in my opinion) while 15 or so musicians totally jammed and rocked out, the sun appeared over the Jordanian horizon. It was incredible.

It looked something like this:



And this:



And this:



And this:



The bus ride home was uneventful, although it was substantially longer than the ride there (traffic? The bus driver fucking with us?). Mostly we slept. I napped and then did a crossword. We got back to HUC around 9AM, and like the diligent student I am, I went to class. Most of the group went to sleep. But I pulled through, like the youthful all-nighter puller I am (yeah right). There was some interesting side effect, though, about being really tired. I talked a lot in class. My mind stopped thinking and I just talked. I made a lot of mistakes, but I used my Hebrew, and used it a lot more today. And hopefully more tomorrow.

So that’s my David Broza-Masada mess. On the bus ride to the show, Ari and I discussed whether this story would be funny, something to laugh at, something amusing, to us in the near future. We decided it would be memorable, but not amusing. And two days after, it still isn't funny to me. But it can be funny to you.

Masada Mess – Part I

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with David Broza, but he’s an Israeli singer-songwriter with mad guitar skills, known across three continents (Asia, Europe, and North America) for writing and singing songs in three languages (Hebrew, Spanish, and English). I’ve heard him referred to as “the Israeli James Taylor,” “the Israeli Dave Matthews,” and “the Israeli Paul Simon.” Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s simply David Broza.

Last night, I had the incredible opportunity to see him perform a sunrise concert at the base of Masada (at the Roman ramp) – starting at 3:30 AM and going until the sun comes up. I wavered back and forth whether to go; the tickets and transportation costs were expensive (for Israeli standards) but it seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. After some convincing by my compadres, I decided to go. I mean, who wouldn't? And I don’t think I could have imagined it would have been as wild a night/morning as it was.

Eleven of us from school went to the show. The plan was to meet in front of HUC at 1AM, get on a rented mini-bus, arrive at Masada when the doors open at 2:30, get good seats, hang out, and then enjoy the amazing show. Then get back on the mini-bus, drive back to school, and either go to class or take a nap.

Easy enough.

At 1 AM, we’d all shown up (on time, which was a bit of a miracle in and of itself) at HUC, coffee, beer, ice cream, snacks, blankets, and cameras in hand, waiting for the mini-bus and driver to show up. Lisa, our fearless coordinator of the evening, called the driver. He said, “Oh, I’m coming, five more minutes.” Five minutes pass. Then ten. We call again.

“Oh, the police have pulled me over and I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

So now we’re in a whole other sort of balagan (mess). Sydney’s boyfriend, who is Israeli, asks, “Wouldn’t it be funny if he gets arrested?” About ten minutes later, he calls the driver back, and the driver tells him that he is arrested and going to jail, but no to worry because the bus company is sending a new driver.

Rock on.

There’s a lot of groaning and sighing – but this is Israel, what should we expect? That everything would go to plan?

Meredith and Josh head to the nearby gas station, pick up a bottle of vodka and pomegranate juice, and while we’re waiting, there’s some toasting to David Broza and our arrested driver. Jim and I work on a crossword. Ari takes pictures, then a nap. Nobody frets.

Around 2:30, the new driver arrives, and is told when we get into the car we need to go to the West Entrance. He says fine, and off we go. The first part of the ride is good, smooth and easy. To get to Masada from J’lem you have to drive through the West Bank, which at 3 AM is empty and beautiful. There’s a full moon, so the desert is lit up from above. The driver is going very fast, but the road is mostly straight so it’s fine. We nap, chat softly, await our arrival. We should be there just in time for the concert to start.

We get to Masada at 3:20, except wait! We’re at the East Entrance, the one where the snake trail and the gondola lead to, the one at the base of the Dead Sea. It’s closed. And we have to go all the way around the mountain. Of course, the driver has no idea how to go, the road is very, very windy, everybody is tired and cranky, and we’re late. And getting later.

As we drive and drive and drive, heading through the curvy mountain roads in the west bank of the Dead Sea, driving through Arad (Arad? Really?), Lisa feels very ill. Jim starts to feel ill. Lisa almost vomits a few times. Leslie curses at the driver. Ari and I, in the back of the bus, bounce around. There’s a very loud game of “Twenty questions” which no one can seem to hear the answers to, and so drones on and on. And on.

Will we get there in time? Will anyone throw up? Will I ever get some sleep? Will we ever have a good time?

Tune in tomorrow for: Masada Mess – Part II!

Tisha B'Av

Tisha B'Av is a weird holiday.

Tisha B'Av is a weird holiday normally, and I think it's even weirder in Jerusalem. Tisha B'Av is the Ninth of Av, and it is the day when the first Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, the second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, the Bar-Kokhba Rebellion was quashed in 135 CE, the edict for expulsion from England in 1290 was ordered, and the day the edict for expulsion from Spain in 1492 was ordered. Lots of bad things. One little day.

It's doubtful that all of these things happened on the same day (there are other tragic events in Jewish history that occurred on Tisha B'Av as well), but what the day represents, to me at least, is a day of collective Jewish mourning for all of the atrocities in our history. It's intense, to say the least. Traditionally, you're supposed to fast for the full day (it's the only other 26 hour fast apart from Yom Kippur), behave as if you're mourning (no entertainment, no washing, no study, etc) and you're supposed to read the Aicha (the book of Lamentations).

What makes it a weird holiday is few-fold. First, the "mourning" type prohibitions go out after middday, so while you "can't" study or work or sit in chairs etc before noon, in the afternoon (while you're still fasting), you can resume business as usual. Additionally, Tisha B'Av is NOT a chag. It's not a day of rest. In Jerusalem, that means the buses run, markets are open, taxis charge weekday rates, etc. Kosher restaurants are still closed though.

And then, since I'm at HUC, there's the Reform aspect. The Reform movement has, historically, had a very weird relationship with Israel/Zionism, and therefore has an even weirder relationship with Tisha B'Av. It is a holiday where we mourn the loss of Jewish sovereignty in Jerusalem, both in a political and religious sense. "Well, Jerusalem is back in Jewish hands. So what is there still to mourn?," the Reform movement asks. It’s a valid question. So while we had Tisha B’Av service Saturday night and some programming Sunday, there was also class on Sunday.

Tisha B'Av is also one of the holidays that gets a short shrift in Jewish education, because it's in late summer when schools are not in session (the exception is for camps, and there were a lot of interesting stories I heard this year of people's experiences observing and leading Tisha B'Av programs), so growing up I had zero relationship with the chag. As an adult, I've begun to create my own customs and observances, reformulating the traditional observances to fit where I am, physically and spiritually.

This year, Tisha B'Av was this past Sunday (so it started Saturday night as Shabbat went out). I fasted. Saturday night we had a service, and then a walk to the Kotel, which was awesome (if I can use that word). There were throngs and throngs of people there, huddled in little groups chanting Aicha by the Kotel. It was mostly Haredim, but there were also soldiers and secular looking Israelis and Dati-Leumi and some Christians. And as we left, there were hoards of people coming in, just waves and floods of people with strollers and children and couples and families and tourist groups. It was totally mind-blowing. The Kotel itself, well, it hasn’t changed much in 2000 years.

I didn't study - or go to class - in the morning. My feeling was class was the equivalent of work, and to do that on Tisha B’Av didn’t jive for me. I did go to the programming, which was fascinating, and the mincha service, and finished my fast. I’m still wrestling with this holiday; it’s a tough one to get a hold on. But hopefully I can find a way to figure out my own relationship to it, and then bring that into the classroom, so my kids don’t get the lack of Tisha B’Av education that I did.

Beit Cafe

Last night was our first Beit Café, a combination talent show/tzedakah auction/potluck dinner on the lawn overlooking the Old city. I was tapped to be on the planning committee and jumped in with a ferocity in event planning I didn’t know I had in me. Normally, I’m content to let other people plan big group events, it just isn’t my thing. After having done Beit Café, and even though it was a huge success, I’m totally content to not do hard-core event planning for a long, long time.

I was in charge of the auction/Tzedakah/money/alcohol part of the evening (it was a potluck dinner, with a 20 NIS entrance fee, including an open beer/wine bar). Good jobs for me. The money rasied from the entrance and auction was going to the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism (IMPJ) who is in a huge financial crush and unable to pay the progressive Rabbis in Israel. It wasn’t too much work putting everything together (a silly skit in front of our class, some e-mails, making some lists, calling a few people), until the day before when everything exploded. Getting the booze. Making silent auction sheets. Cataloging the items. Setting stuff up.

The evening itself was a lot of fun. I have a lot of talented classmates. It was nice, for part of the evening, after collecting money and setting up the auction, to not have to do anything, and just be able to eat and enjoy the show. Our MCs were awesome, hilarious; they wrote a parody song to the tune of “Under the Sea” called “At HUC.” There was some beautiful singing, a very creepily-neat retelling of Poe’s “The Raven,” and I told The Clown Joke. It went over okay; I think people either were too sober (it was towards the end of the evening, and people were tired too) or the general sense of humor/patience is not at the same level as The Clown Joke. I’ve also never told it on a stage, and I think it works better in a small group setting. But that was a lot of fun.

There was also a moment when Amy, a friend and our “resident pervert,” secretly raised 200 NIS for me to take my shirt off. And so, like a good sport, I did. Thanks Amy.

Mamma Mia!

Here I go again.

My Shabbat was atypical, at least as typical means of the last three weeks (this is my fourth Shabbat in Israel! Meshugah!).

I woke up bright an early Saturday morning, not to go to services, but to go on a hike with the HUC hiking group. There were five of us – Amy, Ari, Jim, and myself, and the hiking leader, an awesome man named Jay Shir (ironically, he is also the choir director… get it?) who it seems has forgotten more about hiking and backpacking throughout the Middle East, central and eastern Asia than I’ll ever know. He has these crazy stories about backpacking through Turjkmekistan or Croatia and meeting a goatherd and drinking Sheep-soiled water and getting altitude sickness and losing his tent and eating weird caper berries, etc. He is, as Ari says, HUC’s resident badass.

We went to an area south west of Hadassah Hospital (where the Chagall windows are) and hiked down in a wadi called Wadi Katlav, then along the base of the wadi, past abandoned mandate-era train stations, and then up another mountain to a Sheik’s Tomb, and then up another precipice called Har Torah (with a ט not a ת) which was the view-highlight of the hike. Then we hiked back down a little, and then back up to the road where we finished the hike at a rest stop with very cold drinks. It was another reminder how much Israel's climate resembles California's climate: we ran into wild fennel, blackberries, oak trees (which, DSA, you'll be happy to know I identified purely by smell and seeing leaves on the ground), manzanita trees, and wild sage.

The hike was about 12 km round trip and we did it in about 4 hours. It was semi-strenuous, but an incredibly hot day, and so after the first leg, we were all soaked in sweat. Jim said he drank 5 liters during the day. I drank about half that. But, you get the idea. So why do it? Well, it was great to get out of Jerusalem. It was “praying with our feet.” It felt great, after drying off. And, then there’s this:



The picture doesn't really do it justice, but come on: mamma mia!

Motzi Shabbat, there was another movie night. This time to see Mamma Mia! I really have no words; I put the exclamation point because it's part of the title although my preference would have been a sad emoticon. I was very excited, and after about 3 minutes I knew exactly what I was in for. I think most people felt about the same about the horrid dreckiness and schlock of the movie, with some redeeming quality from the music. But it was, on the whole, dreadful. At the same time, it was nice to keep up the cultural connection with America: how can I forget you?

land of some sort of delicious food

Israel, as we know from biblical readings, is the land of milk and honey. It is, also, apparently the land of wine, cheese, olive oil, spices, and Viagra tea.

This past Friday was another tiyul (the Hebrew word for “field trip,” “excursion,” or “hike.” It’s pretty multi-purpose word.) organized by the HUC interns and Jason, one of my classmates. This one was a wine tasting trip, which made me very excited. Jason is a wine aficionado and put a lot of man-hours into constructing a great itinerary exploring four wineries in the Judean hills south of Jerusalem (Israel’s version of Santa Barbara to the Galilee’s Napa). Each winery was chosen as representing different styles and approaching to wine productions and marketing.

The first winery we went to was called Ella Winery, and is conveniently located in the Elah Valley, the location of David’s legendary battle with Goliath. At the winery we received a tour of the production area by a slightly snooty Israeli Olah who continually reminded us that Ella Winery makes “kosher, premium wine.” And then she extolled the virtues of what it means to make wine that is both kosher and premium. Ultimately, she poured for us a Sauvignon Blanc, a Cabernet Sauvignon, and a Muscat (very popular in Israeli wine culture). The wines were fine, nothing to write home about, but definitely not terrible. The winery itself – with its décor, location, view, production style, attitude, and taste of wine – could pass for a low end California winery, and so in that respect it was much better than other Israeli wine. And it’s kosher. We had a choice of buying a bottle or paying for the tour, so everyone bought a bottle – I bought a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc which was light and refreshing, a good bottle for a Jerusalem afternoon.

The next winery was not as exciting. It was called Mony and it was located in an old monastery, which was a cool idea but not so neat to hang out in. The wines were nothing remarkable, but on the tasting bar they had olives, pita, zatar, and amazing olive oil. So I bought a bottle of olive oil, as it was both delicious and cheaper than the olive oil available in the stores here. Outside by the bus there was a terraced picnic table area with clumps of grapes draped on the terrace, and we picked grapes and enjoyed the view. They were very sweet and tasty grapes.



Me picking grapes

Our third stop was down the road apace – two stops on one property. Tavlin is a restaurant that grows and markets their own spices/teas/rices/cheeses in an attached spice store. We arrived, eager and hungry, and while we waitied for our table reservation to clear itself up, we wandered into the spice shop. It was overwhelming at first. Initially, it was just the smell, which hit my nose with a big puff of Spice! that totally caught me unaware. And then my eyes opened and I saw rows and rows of this:



It was like something out of an Arabian night or an Israeli novel . Just rows and rows of incredible rich colors and smells and textures. I could have walked around that store for hours. We realized that our lunch reservation was actually a reservation for a spice lecture, so we went to a separate room and received a cup of delicious fruit tea while an adorable British Olah lectured us on the benefits of spices – they add colors, taste, and aroma to food. Then she delved into individual spice traits: Turmeric is nature’s antibiotic, black cumin is nature’s penicillin, their special Viagra tea (it’s actually called Viagra tea) works for both men and women, and green tea is good for your heart.



The benefits of turmeric root

After a talk such as that, we mulled around the spice store (I bought tea, turmeric, and a tea infuser) before settling down to eat. Lunch was a very delicious dairy meal, and afterwards, as we slowly ran out of time, there was a rush to finish to fit in the last winery. As it turned out, the winery, Flam, wasn’t actually open, so we didn’t go, but it was all right because the spice store more than made up for more Israeli wine.

And it’s something to go back for again, as if I need a reason to return to that sumptuous spice store.