Back in Action

Naomi and I are finally getting back to our normal sleep cycle: Naomi falls asleep a mere hour or so before I'm ready for bed. Naomi is also managing a progressive morning schedule. She started waking up at 3am, then 3:30, then 4, etc. She's now at 7am. Thank god for that.

I had no problems keeping my typical bedtime of around 11:30, but waking up was another matter. Convincing my Urea cycle that I've changed timezones has been an issue. What's more, having to pee so badly in the middle of the night leads to some crazy dreams. I woke up at 2:30 and didn't know where I was. I convinced myself I was in a Jordanian building without bathrooms and went back to bed. Only twenty minutes later when Naomi got up to pee was I set free from my mental prison.

Despite my best efforts, school has started again. Since all of my classes have all the same people it really doesn't feel like I left. It sounds like classes will be both interesting and impossible, so nothing new. Some of our teachers have been resorting to fear tactics pretty early on: "the last student that didn't attend all the lectures died after a piano dropped on his head." Seems a bit desparate. Housewives desparate.

We also began a several day campaign at home to simultaneously fill our house with a fluffy mess and cut our round poodles back into dogs, topiary-style. This has led to some injuries. Last time it was Levie's leg, which we glued closed and then wrapped so tightly her leg filled with edema: Whoops! This time, Freya's tongue was pursuading the scissors to stop the violence and got snipped. She then proceeded to paint the house a rich crimson. The cruel joke was that I had bathed them less than a day ago AND washed the bedding and both of these things needed to be redone. She's healing fine today and back to her sassy self.

Back Home! Also Things That Are Different Part 4

Finally, back in the country. Allow me to tell you about the 500 lines we had to wait in:

• Waited in traffic to get into Tel Aviv
• Waited in a line of cars to get parking (there is NO legal parking in Tel Aviv - you have to have a sticker!)
• Waiting through security to enter the airport
• Waiting to drop off the rental car
• Waiting through security check-point numero uno
• Waiting to get our bags X-rayed
• Waiting to get up to the ticket counter
• Switching lines and waiting for the next damn window because a family of 67 just cut in front of us
• Switching again because of an incompetent teller
• Waiting to go through security numero dos
• Waiting in the passport line
• Incompetence! New line for passport
• Waiting to get through the THIRD security checkpoint
• Waiting to board the plane
• Waiting to get off the plane
• Waiting through security checkpoint 4
• Waiting through security checkpoint 5
• Waiting to get onto plane 2
• Waiting to leave plane 2 (missing one hat, somehow...)
• Waiting through passport check 2
• Waiting for our bag
• Waiting through customs
• Waiting for our ride
• Waiting through Chicago traffic

Israeli's take their security seriously. Mix this with their rather charming xenophobia and it just sucks. Naomi, with her sleek new Israeli passport and command of the language, gets about a two-second glance and that's it. Me? Two hundred questions, dirty looks, bomb testing; the works. Sometimes Naomi can wriggle me through by taking possession of me - "he's MY HUSBAND." Sometimes not.

We're home though!

My last installment of things that are different:

Street markings

If they were completely different, no problem. But they are exactly the same, except their median line is always white, regardless of if the traffic a lane over is on-coming or the same direction as you. Also, these lines are suggestions and the roads may actually have three unofficial lanes if people feel like passing. And they always do.

Curb markings

All curbs are candy-striped to tell you if you can park there, if they are reserved for buses, etc. I honestly don't know what they all mean. Parking is blue/white, which sucks for me because I always assume it's handicapped and just pass it by.

Tipping

Tips are more like 10%, which is nice. Service is generally not that fantastic, and it's like a team effort - many people help you throughout your evening. You have to ask for the check. If you don't you'll sit there all night being ignored. You CANNOT tip with your credit card, which sucks. It means you pretty much have to carry change at all times. Luckily I had a purse.

Finally, a Jordan I Like

I'd like to thank all of you worriers out there who were sure that we'd die today.

Naomi woke up this morning, a nervous wreck, at 10:45 pm (yeah, the previous day) after going to bed at 9 pm. She then managed to get back to sleep until 2 am, at which point she was up for the day. I managed to sleep in until 4:30, when we actually had to move out. We found the border crossing after a betrayal by the GPS and met up with our group; a small jeep full of people, followed by another jeep full, followed by another and another. In case any of you had thriller-movie-expectations about us being kidnapped by terrorists in a small group, there were 45 noisy Americans, French, and Italians all asking dumb questions. This group was surrounded by 5 other groups just like it. Let's see 250 of us get kidnapped. Honestly, I'd feel sorry for the kidnappers: "Are we going to be able to get pictures of the torture?" "Do we get a meal here in solitary?" "If you're not going to throw away that finger, I'd love to have it as a souvenir." We also had numerous armed guards, most likely for the tour guides to protect their sanity through force.

It took Naomi approximately 3 years to get through the border. Everybody wants to know why she has two passports. They also want to know why she doesn't have her Israeli passport out. Then they want to know why she has it out. To add extra comedy to the situation the tour guides took all of our passports to speed things along and when they handed them back the had lost her's. We got the same crap on the way back, only this time, since Naomi knew it would happen, she abandoned me to get in the next line, leaving a suspicious guard looking through my passport and then flagging me for a bomb risk. (Oh boy, this blog is now on every watch list for keywords...)

Petra is really frickin' beautiful. The entire city is both an architectural and sculptural marvel, since every building is carved out of the canyon wall. In non-American countries the rules are very relaxed so you can go into most of the buildings and climb around and stuff. We have pictures of one of us or the other standing in front of things - the postcard pictures were nicer. That's all I'm saying about Petra the place.

Petra the experience was funny. When we pulled up we parked with an additional 20 buses, putting the totals at around 1000 slack-jawed tourists walking around getting fleeced by the local merchants. Our tour consisted of at least three groups of Pinks (defined, as before, as the people who ruin the tour). The worst Pinks were a pair of Americans; the kind that really make you embarrassed for the country and any association they can claim to you. They brought 5 full suitcases on the trip. Yup, ALL of their stuff. Parents and teachers are liars: Stupid questions exist and are rampant in places like these. Scenario - Tour guide says fact. Halfway through, Pinks interrupt and ask the question the guide was in the middle of answering. They then criticize the guide for not being informative.

Inside of Petra you can also ride type of creature you wish. They had donkeys, camels, horses, tigers, unicorns, etc. They used to only have camels and donkeys. Then came the scene from Indiana Jones where they all ride horses into Petra. Now there are horses for everyone! They are also banned from Petra proper.

Okay, bed.

Sweatin' in the Desert

Ah, it's good to see that people are reading my blog and that I'm not just writing for personal gratification. A special thanks to nobody for leaving comments. I hope you're enjoying your weekend.

Off we went this morning, bright and early, to the Dead Sea. Allow me to do some simple math for you:

43 C (the temperature) is about 109.4 F

That being said, the Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth. This has perks. Apparently, once you're about 400m below sea level, most of the UV rays have dissapated, so burns are hard to acheive. So Naomi and I did some floating in the Salt Sea (as it's known here). The water is really unique in a way that pictures can't capture. Because the bottom of the Dead Sea is covered, not with sand, but salt, it's a very milky-blue/green that is quite beautiful. When you move your arms, they leave this very odd turbulence in their path, like oil in water. It also leaves your skin feeling really greasy. Floating in the Dead Sea is quite amusing for exactly one minute. Then every mucous membrane exposed to the water starts to burn like the fire of a thousand suns. All the kids at the beach were huddled around the showers crying and grabbing their groins. I was right there with them. It was a lot of fun.

Next stop, the En Gedi (pronounced Anne Geddess - I was confused too). This kibbutz is built right beside an oasis. We all know what they are, but until you see an absolute wasteland desert with a lush tropical paradise complete with waterfall you don't really understand how great they are. We walked the paths where King David hid from some army and tried to avoid the French tourists. It was very picturesque.

We drove past Mesada on the way to En Gedi, and on the way back we decided to stop. I like ruins, but something about walking around in a shadeless plateu seemed less than appealing in 110 F heat. That was, until I realized just how high up that sucker was. Mesada, for those who haven't wikied it yet, is a fortress built on top of a high plateu by King Herod in something like 30 BC. It was this massive walled complex with two palaces. It was later (maybe 50 years later) used as a last refuge for Jews during the Roman war on Jews. This is the war that brought down the Second Temple and ruined Jerusalem (again). The Jews were purged from the holy land, and some of them fled to this fortress to defend themselves. The Romans sent a legion and after an incredible fight the remaining Jews (some 2000) decided to kill themselves rather than live as slaves. You take this cable car up and you can walk around the ruins, which is very cool. You can also look down below and see spots the Roman's camped during the seige (because they built small forts every time they stopped for the night). We roasted along with a million Chinese tourists.

On the way to where we're staying (which has internet!), we passed a sign saying "Lot's Wife" with an arrow pointing to a hill which I'm guessing was salt. We also passed Mount Sodom, so we got to see where everything was laid waste. It hasn't really got back on it's feet yet.

We are now staying at a family friend's place in this tiny little village in the desert. Maybe 50-100 houses. Very small. Tomorrow, Petra! Oh yeah, and no pictures because we forgot our cord.

To the South!

This title is really more for tomorrow. We're going on a 3-day free-for-all into southern Israel: the Negev desert. Thank god we have a car and a borrowed GPS system.

We paid another visit to Naomi's grandma today. It was an interesting experience for me because it pointed out how much better my hebrew has gotten without my knowledge since I got here. I was able to utter several useful comments during the conversation. This was the bigger score for me; I UNDERSTOOD the conversation. Awesome. Baby steps.

To underline my further strides in Hebrew we took a trip to a market on Carmel mountain. I was just as disappointed as all of you to find out this mountain, like all others, is just rock. :/ We went from shop to shop looking at odds and ends. This was an Arab market so it had slightly different stuff than an Jewish market - more antiques, scarves, and curved daggers. It's been really hard this trip to avoid buying a weapon. I also passed up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to buy a life-size brass tiger. You readers are hopefully beginning to get a picture of just how awesome the inside of the Whalen house would be if it were in Israel.

I bought Aladdin pants. They are aquamarine so they are actually a cross between Aladdin pants and scrub pants, which makes them more awesome. They are also a bit longer in the legs. These pants have a enormous waist which makes them great for feasting as well. Naomi wouldn't let me buy a velvet fez.

To ramble back to the point I was trying to make (before I wasted everyone's time by vividly painting a scene in everyone's imagination not unlike the master writers of old): I furthered my Hebrew education by haggling in the market. Thanks to my constant attempts to try to pay for things I am actually pretty good at counting in Hebrew. I used this new-found power along with thriftiness and tips given to me by my many Israeli friends:

1. Never act interested in what you are haggling about
2. Never mention the price they have listed
3. Always mention a price you saw somewhere else
4. Never ever speak English

A lot of this is surprisingly easy with the level of Hebrew I have. Since I don't understand half of what the shop owners are saying, it's very easy for me to act disinterested (like trying to get Freya to do anything). It's also easy to come up with the price I'm willing to pay for something because I have time to think of the number. Once haggling starts, I can't just shout out a new number because I don't remember how to say it so I have them right where I want them. Also, everyone here thinks I'm German until I say an English word which is a nice touch. Once I fully release my midwestern dialect, though, it's all over. In fact the crisp, rigid Iowa accent is so infectous our friend Elinor wrote us the other day saying she has been getting mistaken for a tourist. Hah.

To the North!

So yesterday's tour of Haifa was so-so. Omri took this as a personal challenge to make today better. We picked up a full-fledged tour guide from the Ariav: Tour Guide Omri (TGO). TGO had a big day for us, full of action and adventure.

The Grotto

First stop, the grotto. A grotto is a natural formation where waves have cut into the cliff-side and created a natural splashy cave thing. Basically the same environment where One-Eyed Willy hid his pirate ship in Goonies. The grotto was on the border of Lebanon, so Omri stepped up the awesome with a large amount of military knowledge about the area - all hush-hush, I'm affraid. Sorry. We grabbed a local beer at a pub with a fine view. We also learned about the giant railroad that the British built during WWII. The line was built to run from Israel to Europe and tunneled all over the damn place. During the war with Lebanon - I think the Independence one - the british blew up a bridge so that it couldn't be used against Israel. Now the railroad is just this awesome walkway. In one of the tunnels they built a little movie theater that you could watch an educational feature about the place. Sorry Mark and Kristin, you would have loved this place.

Acko (probably spelled wrong)

A city built around an old Napoleon fort. This place was awesome and I would have loved to walk around for a long time because it wasn't a tour site, per se, so you could do whatever you wanted. There were kids jumping off the old wall into the sea and climbing over everything. I would have given Jordan's right leg to grow up in such a playground. Our goal was also to eat The World's Best Hummus at a local place (this is according to everyone I've spoken to in Israel). Unfortunately, we got to the door right after it closed. No exceptions. None. Except for TGO. Badass. I once again embraced being too full to function and ate and ate and ate. Almost as good as Pita Pita. ;)

The North

TGO busted out all sorts of knowledge about the area as we took a long mountainous drive through the north. Where the villages were. Where the borders were. Where battles were fought. Where missles landed. TGO also brought us to several scenic spots that were probably the best Make-Out Points in the world.

Druz Villages

TGO bought a 2 disc CD set of an Israeli musician for us to listen to as we traveled, thus giving us a soundtrack for our trip. He also explained some of the lyrics to me: "You see, now he's saying his heart has cracked." "This is where his girlfriend dies" "Here he was just dumped and he hates his life." A really uplifting album. He also had us make an emergency stop to try Knafa. I don't know what it is. I don't know what it's made of. I don't want to know. It's FANTASTIC. We had to get more when we finished. We flattered the owner so much with our raving about this marvel of food technology that he gave us free coffee to help us enjoy. It was the Lemonana of food.

Our day ended with a drive back to Haifa and TGO giving us an account of the land's rich history, heritage, and struggles. Well done, Omri.

Worst Tour Guide on the Face-ball of Israel

When last we met, Naomi and I were about to dine with the Ariav family. We did. And it was fantastic. We went to a restaurant with a fabulous view of Haifa from the mountain-top (not to be confused with muffin-top...I've been doing a lot of walking thank you very much!). They pulled out all the stops. At one point we had some 75 different little plates of food in front of us. We absolutely ROLLED out of the dining experience as new members of the Ariav family. Tali, our new sister, will be thrilled.

Our next day - Haifa tour - was in the hands of Omri Ariav. We picked him up around 11 am and walked to our first stop; the Bahai Gardens. This garden is the signature of Haifa - a giant, 18-tiered garden cascading down the mountain. Apparently Bahai is a new religious movement started around 175 years ago. I'll leave you to Wikipedia it. The garden was wonderful. 700 steps in all, but you get to go DOWN, so it wasn't like being at the gym. I've posted a picture or two that do it no justice. Since it's a religious place women have to cover their shoulders. Naomi is simply never prepared for this and we almost couldn't go in. Omri sprinted down the street to a barber shop to find a shawl while a girl in line with us offered a shirt. Omri sprinted back: you can thank the IDF for his physical prowess.

A panoramic lunch. Omri, attempting to eat light, ordered the "concert salad". I have a picture of it. It also came with two loaves of bread. He muscled through half of it while Naomi and I laughed.

Omri then proceeded to take us around Haifa. After our near-miss with the garden and our tour during the hottest part of the day, Omri took us to an Arab market that was probably amazing when it was open. It was just a dirty alley on Thursday.

No problem! We'll head to the beach to catch a beautiful sunset. Cloudy. We did enjoy a nice time sitting in a cafe (sponsored by Camel cigarettes). Honestly, when I write about it, the day was pretty great; the running joke during the day was that Omri was a terrible tour guide. We all enjoyed the gag at his expense but he did fine. Besides, part two of the tour was a total success and makes Omri into a tour-guide extraordinaire.

Viva la Haifa

There comes a time in one's life when you need to set aside childish things and move on. The Ulpan is one of those things. So I said my goodbyes and learned my last Hebrew word EVER and walked out the doors a fluent Israeli. Having mastered a language so thoroughly put me in the mood for adventure, so Naomi and I packed up and left our tiny Tel Aviv apartment behind.

We now have a car. Such a wonderful thing in America. Such a horrifying experience in Israel. I believe, down to the very bottom of my heart, that every Israeli driver wants to die. This, and only this, can explain the road system in Israel. The streets here are absolutely immaculate; virgin to a single flake of the road-destroying snow that erases Iowa's highways year after year. Each street has a fresh coat of painted guidelines, lane markers, and other helpful bits of information. Israeli drivers could care less. A road with two lanes could easily be three, they say, and why not park in the middle of the street? Scooters slither between bumpers that are so close a single molecule of oxygen has to turn the skinny way to get through. And now I have to drive in this. Awesome.

We are now safe and sound in Haifa. We are staying for a week at a family friend of the Slutzki clan. Their house is glorious, like the halls of one of Yoni the Great's many summer palaces. We're really living now.

Haifa itself is a very beautiful city. We toured it in the fashion of any tourist: We got ridiculously lost trying to use a terrible map and Google directions and drove down every street until we found a house we could break into and stay at for the week. It was mere coincidence that this house was the same one from the directions. Mazel tov!

We're going out with the Ariav right now, so I'm done. I will post pictures when I get less lazy.

Ah yes, and our internet connection is now "Very Good". :)

Last week of learning EVER...for one week

Last week of class. I've moved to the back row in class, showing my unwillingness to learn a lot this last week of class. Unfortunately, There are only 30 people in class so the instructor can single me out anyway. Which she does. Constantly. Allow me to explain the mechanics of this.

Like my mother after any sort of large family gathering involving my uncle, my teacher calls me Brian. For some reason, rather contrary to my survival instinct, I have decided to correct her every time she calls me Brian instead of just keeping my mouth shut and blending in. This has led to sort of a class joke and thus endeared me to her. She seems to find great joy in saving the scandalously difficult questions, paragraphs, and other terrible in-class exercises for yours truly. This makes class a real delight.

The Ulpan is an interesting micro-culture and gives many insights as to the bizarre lifestyle of the city's inhabitants. Class starts at the sweet hour of 9 am. Usually by this time there are about five of us students actually present. We have class for an entire hour before being given a half-hour break. This ridiculous span of time is necessary for the ritual morning snack. For some odd reason the school sells these mammoth 16" subway sandwiches. I remind you that this is 10 am and that half of the students have been up less than an hour. Half of the students go outside to smoke and eat their goliath "snacks" while the other half eat them indoors. You can get coffee if you want, which comes in a giant Reese's Peanut Butter Cup wrapper, or you can go down to one of the many coffee shops nearby.

By the time you get back to class you've forgotten what language you are attempting to learn, which is unfortunate because the second hour is always focused on the history of some obscure Jewish person from 800 years ago. This wouldn't be bad accept that each new personality involves a host of special terms. I am well-equipped to converse over topics like 11th century city fortifications, 19th century Israeli fashion, 13th century omens, etc. This is what I call "the lost hour", because I am not capable of understanding anything. Which of course baits the teacher into asking me in Hebrew if I understand the ramifications of a 40 day siege on Jerusalem's food supply.

By the time we get our second break - 10 minutes this time - most of the students have arrived. This wave of arrivals overlaps the wave of early departures. People are just SO busy what with the beach being 100 ft from the front door. I can never really remember the last hour because of all the lacunar strokes I had during the previous, but I'm sure it goes quite smoothly.

* * *

Naomi and I have still been wringing some tourist stuff out of the city. We fully engaged in our first sunset here in Israel, which Naomi described best as "the least spectacular sunset ever". The mood was right and the setting impeccable - a fancy restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean - but right as the sun was dipping near the horizon the Only Cloud In Israel puffed into being and completely eclipsed our view. Awesome.

Today we visited Tel Aviv University, on foot. It was WAY too hot for this approach. Also our map doesn't feel this part of Tel Aviv is important and thus decided to cut it off, so we had to ask for directions while I stood there wearing my purse. *slow head shake*

We managed to tour the campus and visit our friend Elinor in her astrology lab (oh, she's gonna be pissed!). We got a fine view of the city from her building. We left her working, like a sucker, and strolled through the park along the Yarkon River until we hit the boardwalk, which was really cool and completely unknown to Naomi and me. This afforded us a real sunset, though that damn cloud came out again and blocked the horizon. It was still stunning.

Two days left in Tel Aviv.

Captions:

A couple of photos for my upcoming New Age album (Reflections, Quiet Yearning, Remembrance, and Waves of Infinite)

Sweet weekend

My confidence is back up to its usual position of "near-cocky" after having a full day off from the Ulpan. I am also fully rested thanks to not having to get up before sunrise (for Jerusalem) or right after (Naomi decided that Skyping at 7 am was a good idea for some reason...). All things are possible now.

Naomi and I have gotten very bold with our abilities to navigate Tel Aviv and have been going on excursions "map free". I realized a couple of days into our trip that I have been carrying around a small travel bag laden with a camera/sunblock/map/keys/signal mirror/compass/sextant and various other tools while Naomi has been carrying around a hair tie. In essence, Nomes tricked me into carrying a purse. Because it's so damn hot during the day, I can never get rid of the purse, either; even when I set it down I am left with a giant purse-shaped sweatmark on my shirt. Naturally, not taking a map around allows me to regain some of my masculinity by never having to ask anything but the sun where we are. I'm so tough!

We wandered Yafo again on Friday. Our map doesn't even show Yafo. Despite our rather commando departure to the old city we managed to stumble upon the well-established Flea Market. The market is a very emotional experience, at least for me. They have all sorts of little knick-knacks that I would never ever want. But they also have stuff that I never knew I needed until I saw it, and all of it would never make it back to America. They had a PILE of swords that looked like Green Destiny and they were all authentic Chinese swords from at least 100 years ago. They also had a full-out canon that would have tipped my bag over the 50 lbs. limit by enough to make the plane function like a car. They also had a store filled with giant fiberglass animals and statues. All awesome. If only Rina had been there to bargain for me.

I have an emaculate tan...in a tshirt. I have done such a fantastic job preserving my shimmering whiteness that I have absolutely no swimsuit tan line. My beach time here has more than doubled my beach time over the course of my life. This is partly because people we know here like to go to the beach, partly because Naomi likes the beach, and partly because I can read my giant Neal Stephenson book there - under sunscreen, shade from an umbrella, and the watchful eye of Naomi. When I remove my shirt in Tel Aviv its like I'm making a statement: In twenty years my body will still be a beautiful green grape compared to the raisin bodies of you beach-dwellers. Naomi and our friend Elinor have taken to keeping me untouched. Today I was reading on a blanket on my stomach and they made me apply new sunscreen and get an umbrella because they were sure they were watching me turn pink. When we got home this afternoon and I had a slight burn on my shoulders Naomi looked like she had somehow failed as my solar guardian.

yer-ru-sha-lime

Some Jerusalem fun facts to consider (fresh from wikipedia):

In Hebrew, Jerusalem is pronounced Yiroshalime

Jerusalem is somewhere around 6000 years old beating Jaffa by a cool 2000 years

Jerusalem has been besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, and captured/recaptured 44 times

Jerusalem has been destroyed twice

Okay okay okay; there's a lot going on in Jerusalem. We took an official tour so we wouldn't miss anything. The company assembled a motley crew: we had a large contingent of French people - two of whom I will be referring to as the Pinks - along with a couple of Americans who asked a lot of obvious questions. A lucky squad, us. Naomi informed me that the tour guides spent some time discussing us in Hebrew - she's like a spy in this country! I'm going to step-by-step this tour because there was a lot of interest. I brought out the Canon to help myself fit in as a tourist while Naomi faithfully documented with the little digital for viewers like you. We forgot to dump the Canon's pictures before we left IC so I spent some time methodically deleting 600 pictures of our dogs.

The younger Pink decided to start the trip off right by vomitting into a plastic bag and then holding it in her lap like a newly purchased goldfish. It smelled fantastic. Our tour went for the jugular. We ascended the Mount of Olives where Jesus went skyward and got a view of the Old City. (Jerusalem is a huge city with an old city built in the center and surrounded by a massive wall. The old city is where the action is.) From there we could see sites where all three monothiestic religions began. And a camel. And a swarm of people trying to sell us stuff. There was a scenic lookout, but otherwise this was just a typical neighborhood. So into the Old City we go. The Pinks got lost and we had to go find them.

The rule in the Old City is simple. If you have money and you want to build a house, feel free, but you must pay to have archeolgists dig up the site first. If they find stuff then yay Jerusalem but sucks to be you. The Old City is old. The Jewish quarter however, was recently rebuilt after it was destroyed (because that's what Jerusalem does - it get's destroyed) in 1948 by Jordan (not Whalen). The tour showed off the oldest of the five gates into the city, the something something Gate. The gate has a full flight of stairs down to it, and there is a sub-gate with another flight of stairs going down to IT. The guide pointed out that this is because everytime something gets built it's over top of something else. In a 6000 year old town that's a lot of layers. It pays to keep this in mind as you go because things that were once at street level, like older streets, are now in pits. Things that were once high up on a hill, like the crucifixion, are now up a short flight of stairs.

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher (Golgatha)

The last five stations of the cross. This area is run by Greek Orthodox, but the church errected here actually has wings for five separate churches. They have relics ALL OVER this church, and they are all adorned with amazingly ornate decor and lines of worshippers/tourists. Naomi and I walked up to where Jesus was crucified, where he was cleaned after dying, where he was buried, and where Mary watched the whole thing. The whole church was quite intense, as were many of the visitors who would lay themselves prostrate upon these things. Because we are who we are, Naomi and I also got a nice series of pictures trying to open a HUGE oak door.

Wailing Wall (Western Wall)

This experience is different from the Christian one. The wall is a happening place to be. For those not in the know; when old Israel was in existence Jerusalem was the capital and Soloman built a temple. It was destroyed, so the Jews built a Second Temple. The romans came and knocked that one over. All that's left is a wall. The Jews have stated that they won't go into the lower part of the temple until the messiah comes, so the pray through the wall into the Holiest of Holies. There were easily a thousand Jews from various backgrounds and countries, and me. The wall is segregated so Naomi and I parted ways. You write a wish on a piece of paper and stuff it into the wall. I wrote my wish (not telling) and brought it all the way down and realized I was the only one without a kippah (Yamulka in yiddish). I was already bristling with fear about breaking some taboo and being beaten by a mob I went back and got a rent-a-kippah cardboard thing that my mohawk fought valiently to reject. The wall is filled with people praying and reading the Torah at it. Since the Torah is the word of God it seems a bit like getting a Stephen King book and then going to his house and reading it out loud to his front door, but I'm no theologist. I stuffed my paper in the wall triumphantly and walked maybe three feet before I was stopped. Shit! They know I'm a fraud! The man took my hand, asked me where I was from, and then offered to say a prayer with me at the wall. Couldn't hurt. So he did, and showed me the actions and gave me a tutorial and then asked for money. I just don't blend in around here.

The Pinks were late getting to the bus and held up the tour.

Dome on the Rock

Not so much a tourist playground so we saw it at a distance. It's fancy.

The Pinks were late getting to the bus and held up the tour.

Yad ViShem

Literally Hand and Name. The Holocaust Museum. It would be a further breech of the levity of my blog to go into detail, but it was very moving. The most moving part was at the end when you go into an enormous round room and they have floor to ceiling shelves of books with names of people who died and a giant, gaping hole in the floor that looks 50' down into a reflecting pool. You could look up names: 1002 Slutzkis and 102 Spalters (Rina's maiden name).

The Pinks were late getting to the bus and held up the tour.

Captions:

1. Naomi at the Western Wall

2. Me at the tomb of Jesus (the lighting is ruined by the flash, but it was very dark and pious)

3. Naomi wearing the biggest Synagog in Jerusalem as a hat

4. Me with camel

Things that are different, Part III

Going against all previous plans, I am not even close to fluent in Hebrew yet. Every once in a while I get a glimmer of the ultimate awesome, but most of the time I just back myself into corners that only English can rescue me from. I have been put in charge of several important interactions. I pay for things, order the check at restaurants, and other day to day things. I printed out a couple of Bauhaus architecture walking tours before we left and I have been in charge of saying the addresses as well as saying the date the building was built in Hebrew. I assure you all that a four digit rolls off my tongue about as quickly my dad recalls the name of one of my friends, so you know Naomi has some patience of steel. *sorry dad* We have also started a ritual game where, as we walk home for the evening, I tally the day's purchases, in Shekels (meaning we get into the hundreds pretty quickly), in Hebrew, out loud with no paper, to make sure we have not been over-spending. Luckily our walks are long.

The Ulpan has been pointing out several small differences in the way Hebrew is constructed compared to English. Since I'm a beginner and have NO grasp of complex sentence structure I basically speak like a caveman. This is enhanced by the fact that there are no Hebrew words for "is" and "are". An example:

ENGLISH: The tree is nice.

HEBREW: The tree nice.

I've come a long way and can now talk about my wants and needs with easy. "I want book." Hooray.

A couple of other oddities about the language: Hebrew reads from right to left, but numbers in a Hebrew sentence read left to right. Date ranges read right to left. So a sentence with a date range, for example the dates that Mark Twain was born on and died on, has you switching the direction you read multiple times. To the casual English reader it also looks like he was born in the future and lived his life backwards. My life, ? - 1980, makes it look like nobody knows when I was born but I will die in 1980. This fun syntax was only compounded by a typo in our book making it look like somebody was born in the year 9878.

Israeli currency is also flat-out cooler than ours. We all remember that, in essence, American currency is green. Sure, they've added a couple of drab pinks and blues in sort of a Pleasantville way, but it's still just green. Israeli money, by contrast, would be more expensive to counterfit than it would be to earn, what with today's printer ink costs. It folds like crap, though, so whatever shape your Shekels arrived into your hot little hand is the same shape they'll be in forever.

Naomi and I have been walking all over town and slowly working through the suggested cuisine in town. We decided to try to get to bed early on Monday night and unfortunately thought we could accomplish this by going to a movie. This works great unless you go to Harry Potter 6. Movies are just as expensive here only you pay in Shekels which makes it seem more expensive. You also have reserved seats in the theater, like going to a play. In a movie of waning popularity like HP 6 you end up with 15 people sitting awkwardly close together. It was fun for two minutes or so to try to learn Hebrew from the subtitles but I ended up just ignoring them. Sadly, my lazy-ass brain is starting to do this with all the Hebrew signs around town if I'm not paying close attention.

Overall, Naomi and I have been relaxing a bit this last couple of days. Both of us have been working hard at our respective vocations and we've been in town long enough that some of the newness has worn off. I'm covering three days with this blog for this reason and because tomorrow we are going on a 10 hour tour to Jerusalem, which I'm sure I will have plenty to write about.

Weekend condensation

Since I've been falling a bit behind, I will condense the rest of our weekend into one entry. This is easy to do at this point because I don't remember what we did which day at this point anyway.

Naomi and spent Saturday the way it should be spent - relaxing like mad. I don't think I put on pants until around 3pm. Unfortunately, all great things must come to an end and I had to suit up to go on a tour of Yafo (Jaffa) with Udi, Shlomet and their son Etai (most likely spelled wrong). Yafo is part ancient city and part old city. The ancient part involves the sea port from which Jonah departed from in order to give a whale dyspepsia. The old city was built by Napolean. We walked around the area sticking our heads into things, climbing up things, walking around things and the general stuff tourists do that make them look like roaming cats. We then departed for Herzliya, where Udi and Schlomet had prepared a nice dinner for us. We then hit the marina at around 10:30pm, which was just like every other marina I've ever been to (because I've never been to another marina). We came home tired as hell and slept like the dead.

Oh dear god, Sunday is Monday here so I had to go back to class! Like a two year old child just learning to speak, a couple of words started to pop out at me allowing me to keep my head above water. After listening to others in the class give a rousing report on the socio-economic conditions of their cities, I was given a chance to speak about Iowa City: "In Iowa City, it's not big or small. There is a university. Iowa City IS university. There is sun, but rain. Iowa City has trees and plants." A neat summary of our fair city, to say the least.

Naomi and I decided to go back to Yafo and take another look around. We left at 4pm which isn't a great time to walk in Tel Aviv. After a sweaty 6K walk we managed to get to Yafo, at which point we decided to not look around and instead explore a cute neighborhood nearby called Neve Tsedek. More walking ensued, along with some window shopping. We finally headed to our evening destination at 9pm, a bar called Norma Jean with a large array of monastic beers from all over the world. We met Elinor and called Yoni the Great down from his celestial palace and set about trying to drink all of them. Yoni told us stories about time of old when he used to wrestle dragons and how he once swam up a waterfall just to prove he was faster than gravity. The evening was mine, however, after I conquered a beer flight of 6 beverages, each 200mL (which, since I'm American and don't understand the metric system, I read as "some" beer). It turns out it's a bit more than "some", especially with the Herculian alcohol content of monastic beer. I was hiccuping nearly the entire 3 mile walk home. We made plans for later this week with Elinor and parted ways with Yoni the Great, who was off to battle all of France until right before we leave the country.

Finally, back in action

Without having any particularly good reason for my absence, I'm back. Learning of the popularity of my blog from twos of fans, whom I will now refer to as my Legions of Fans because it has a much better ring to it, it would be a crime for me not to write more about journeys through Israel.

Where to start? We had a pretty sweet weekend. Liberated from my class for the weekend and Naomi unfettered by work for the same reason, we took off like the children of summer. After rolling out of bed at a luxurious 9 am to find Naomi circuit training in the apartment and showering off the last of my language school woes we contacted a girl named Elinor. Elinor is our most obscure contact yet: She is the daughter of Shlomet's brother's girlfriend, which in Israeli terms means she's practically our sister. She is also handily the first Israeli astrophysicist I have met, though only by ten minutes as we were joined by her friend. We watched jazz in the park. It takes being in another country to realize that jazz is truly American (it's one of the good things we export), and all of the songs I recognized and some I had played before. After my third application of sunblock in as many minutes we decided to head for cooler locations and got lunch. Her friend departed and we blew our ram's horn, which calls Yoni the Great from his mountain kingdom. Yoni, Elinor, Naomi and I had fantastic seafood followed by gelato, both of which I manged to get all over me during the meals. Yoni, upon his white stallion, challenged me to what ended up becoming a who-can-finish-"x"-faster game, where x is defined as anything you can finish. This titanic struggle still continues.

Yoni the Great was required to write a sonnet in order to win a damsel's heart so he had to take his leave of us. We came back to our apartment to recharge so that Elinor could show us Tel Aviv after 12pm, a feat Naomi and I had yet to pull off.

A bit on Tel Aviv nightlife. The evening starts at 10 p.m. and rolls into the morning. Most people don't go out to eat much before then, so it's been very easy for Naomi and I to eat pretty much anywhere without a wait. There are many different ways to keep yourself entertained. We have seen: Groups of shirtless men playing intense table tennis in the public parks, bonfires on the beaches, hopeless tourists wandering the boardwalk, dance clubs, and pick-up bars. Elinor thought the scene we needed to learn the most about was the last one. Pick-up bars are built for human contact. They are small, crowded and loud. We went to a rather hip one on Rothschild, which is a swanky street. This bar was previously an apartment, thus making it a perfect place for a pick-up bar. Imagine creating a box that was 20' per side. Now imagine creating another box that was 19' 10" and placing it inside. This is the configuration of the bar we were in: the inner box was the bar and the 2" perimeter was the space that 100 young people were awkwardly crowding around. This King Aurther's Round Table approach to bars is brilliant because everyone can just sit and check everyone else out. Naomi, Elinor and I managed to secure a space near a load-bearing pillar so we had a make-shift barrier to help us against the press.

My favorite part of the evening was when somebody's dog, I don't know who's, started wandering around our area. You had to love this dog because normally it would have the run of the place because it's small and agile, but this dog had an Elizabeth Collar on (the Cone of Shame from "Up", if you'd rather). This poor cone-headed dog kept trying to get around and just running into people's legs. Adorable.