Thanksgiving Comes Early

Tonight I thought I'd make a list of a few things in Jerusalem that make my heart glad.

First, a big one:  I'm thankful to be alive.  I don't just say that as a reminder to ease the worries of my gentle grandfolk.  Nor do I say it in a chirpy poetical sense -- no, I really mean it: I'm glad to be alive.  Because tonight I was washing up after dinner with flatmate M and mid-conversation she yelps "No no no no! Not that one!" and snatches the cloth I'd been using to wipe down spoons from out of my fingers.  "That cloth is the one I use for economica! You know, what is the English word for economica... detergent?"  And she pulls out from under the sink a tub of industrial strength cleaner;  I take a whiff and -- oh yes -- pure bleach.

That's right folks, for 13 days now I've been using extremely minimal amounts of water (because it's a precious resource in Israel. I was only doing my part for conservation of course, to say nothing of expediency...) and the offending bleach-soaked cloth to wipe down the plates and spoons and teacups of three adults.   M and I laughed about it, but deep down I think we also died a little.

Okay.  Moving on to lighter things:

-- I really enjoy the dates here.  Calm yourself, you romance-eager nosy-nosers, and allow me to finish --  I mean dates as in the fruits, not the nuts. No wait, I didn't mean it that way! I meant nuts as in crazies.  You know, the random dudes who materialize ex nihilo and ask me to have a drink with them. (On a side note: one day, perhaps soon, I'll be courageous enough to say "yes"to one of these people.  And then proceed to order the most expensive single-malt whiskey on the shelf.  This is, in case you were wondering/judging me, one of the very small ways in which I extract recompense from the universe for the palpable existence of gender bias against women in academia. It is, therefore, entirely legitimate for me so to act.)

-- There is a cultural center and communal courtyard (holy alliteration, batgirl!) just behind our building.  On Fridays there is a small open-air market there, where people hock jewelry, grind coffee, display stitch-work, and sell vegetables, goat cheeses, challah for the sabbath and marvelous plump fruits.  If we're lucky they set up load speakers and blast the cats out of the courtyard with good ole American jams from either the 1960s or 1980s (yes, only those two decades).

On other nights when I get home from the university, I will hear the tune of a waltz or big band brass coming from the wide-open windows of the center.  If I crouch on the balcony just right, I can watch through the trees as a roomful of my neighbors twirl and glide in each others' arms.  It makes me deeply happy.  And of course on Sabbath there is lovely sad singing in that very room.

-- Cat-watching on the lawn outside my office is swiftly becoming my favorite recreational sport.  There is no end to the strangeness, and hilarity, of scattered handfuls of flinching, dodging felines as they prowl the grass for bits of wayward falafel.

-- Speaking of my office, I am thankful for it, and here 'tis:

Lovely, no? Though at present it has what Jennie B would call "an embarrassment of book space".  Shortly to be solved, however: much of Gerald Holton's academic library will soon be shelved there.  (At which point, I ain't gonna lie, I'll sit in my leather chair across from those erstwhile-empty shelves now teeming with excellent history and philosophy and physics literature and fan my fingers together whilst croning "Welcome, my prettieeeeees".  Incidentally, this is the same manner in which I plan to greet PhD students who wander into my office.  I mean "our" office.  Yes.)

 And for the nerds out there, if you direct your attention to the left of the picture you see a microfilm machine (my own! my preciousssss) sitting atop the cabinets which contain Hebrew University's oh-so-microfilmy set of the Archives for the History of Quantum Physics (or "AHQP", for those who wish to impress at cocktail parties).  I can't wait to play with it all.  Yes, yes, I have digital access to the AHQP already... but I can't resist getting my little grubby fingers on the physical stuff of it (ah, strike that-- clean fingers. Recall  that nontrivial volumes of bleach have been handled by yours truly in recent days...).  Mircofilm.  It's hardcore vintage library geekery, and all you hipsters can shuffle on off to Buffalo.  It's like owning your dad's 8-track player and accompanying 8-track cassette of The Doors.  In short, excellent good fun.

The window in my office faces just such an angle that if the wind is coming down from the hills in just such a way, you can hear the über-talented kids over at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance practicing their respective arts.  Well, I haven't exactly heard the dancers.  But plenty of opera and piano and the occasional tenor saxophone strain reaches the airwaves proximate to my window. Youths who love classical music! It's enough to turn my heart all akimbo.  

Here are a few other pictures of the Givat Ram campus, for your partakin':

 

Main entrance to the campus (also below)

Two tomcats roaming my office building, up to no darn good.

Oh, and what's this I see directly across the hall from my office? 

Mmm.  Soak up the genius.  Oh, and mom-- I finally asked today where the actual, coffee-stained, ink-blotted tear-soaked sweat-dampened Einstein papers and letters were.  And they're in a super-secret temperature-controlled, idiot-proof room adjacent to the archive. They only take The Originals out for special exhibits or visiting foreign dignitaries.  So come on over, famous folks, and I'll get you and me both a special tour.  I'm looking at you, Huda bint Abdullah Al Shaikh, wife of the late Sultan bin Abdulaziz Al Saud -- I know that you both read this blog and deeply desire to see Einstein's original papers.

The Levi Building (where I work), through the trees.

Also on campus is the National Library, which extends over the hillside (see below)  

I suppose that's a pretty good list of thanksgiving for today.  Here's to discovering still more tomorrow...

Several Thousand Words' Worth

Jerusalem Railway Bridge

Model of Second Temple Jerusalem @ Israel Museum.
(Height of the temple walls ~ 2 feet)

"What is this? A center for ants?"

Monastery of the Cross

On the Street Where I Live

Two soldiers walk toward Mount Zion (Church of the Dormition visible at top) 

Dusk over the Valley of Hinnom (for its dark history, click here)

Yemin Moshe and the Montefiore Windmill

Inside the Old City

Church of the Holy Sepulchre (including the Immovable Ladder).  This church
sits atop Golgatha, the traditional site of Jesus' crucifixion.  It is also said to be the place of Jesus' burial. 

The pictures to the right and below are of The Stone of Anointing.  Crusaders thought this stone was where Jesus' body was laid while prepared for burial.




The stone was surrounded by people kissing it, rubbing it with cloth, and pouring personal objects on it (icons, rosaries, wallets, etc.) in order to receive blessings.

In a chapel several stories  below street level you can see stone scratchings made by the first Crusaders. 

Outside the Old City, Zion Gate

As I walked the parapets of the Old City last night, I turned a corner and there it was: the Dome of the Rock.
It looked dusty.  I wanted to dust it.

Men praying at the Western Wall

The Western Wall divided: women on the right, men on the left. 

The portion of the western wall extending beneath street level.
Many people believe this portion of the wall is nearest the original site of the Holy of Holies

Tunnels under the Western Wall

Looking down to the bedrock of ancient Jerusalem

Jerusalem at Night: Present Day

Jerusalem at Night: Jesus' Day 

An Animated Guide To Socially Acceptable Personal Space Thresholds In Various Cultures

The British:

The British, after a pint:

The French, with Foreigners:

Americans, with Anyone:

Nigerians:

Israelis:

And, the effects of the latter on a borderline introvert like myself:

Once I get used to it, it'll be fine. In fact, I'm a pretty touchy-feely person myself.  Then it'll feel more like this:



It's all just a wee bit overwhelming given my most recent Foreign Country of Residence, which lies at the other end of this little spectrum.

Anyway, I hope to get pictures of the city up soon. For now I can rely on naught but my own whimsy to fill these blog posts, for my camera battery has died a terrible and irrevocable death (I, however have not, dear Grandparents). Until I find a new one...

Oh! Another little item of update before I finish reading the Koran (yes, I started this afternoon. More anon...): My recent and prodigious struggles with the one bus company operating in Jerusalem have inspired roommate M and I to declare war: we've lodged formal complaints with the business using M's contacts, and have threatened to take my story to the press if the company doesn't respond. It... takes some explanation.   I'll tell y'all about it some other time, but for now suffice it to say that while I promised I'd do my best to stay out of jail while abroad, I never said I wouldn't stir up a little media attention... 

Herding Cats

My loves, forgive my absence.  What happened was not death (Gram and Gramps, like the Jasmine I am in bloom), but the beginning of the fall semester at Hebrew University.

Which meant the end (or temporary postponement) of exciting, thrilling, wonderful, romantic adventure and the beginning of a period of homesickness, frustration, paperwork, legion expenses, etc.  In other words, the end of the honeymoon and the beginning of life in a city, and at a university.

The first few days of the semester were pretty rotten because of internal bureaucracy.  Unlike in Scotland where a postdoc is considered faculty, here I am considered a "student".  While this made the whole visa process infinitely easier, it means that the administration (few of whom speak English and even fewer of whom care for my charm and humor but instead could use a long night of sleep in a dark and cool place.  Being an administrator at a huge international university at the beginning of a school year must be a job with the level of stress and thanklessness reserved for airline front-desk workers and high school football referees.) -- it means that the admin considers me on a par with the swarms of 17-yr-old, first-time-away-from-home little fresh-faced big-eyed bushy-tailed kiddos running around in the sunshine all over both of the main campuses.  While I do love college kids -- I wanna spend my life working with them-- I have a couple of letters after my name and a note from the Dean of my college here saying I am actually faculty, and that means someone, somewhere, should try to help me get in the system.  But instead I was treated like one of the cat herd, and bumped from campus to campus, from building to building until I starting losing it yesterday in the office of a feisty little woman named Orit, who decided to variate from the norm and try to help me.  Bless you, Orit, may the hordes of undergrads treat you kindly in recompense.

But, today things are on the mend.  I am making headway -- I have food, shampoo, an office with internet I can access... I can actually begin my work! Hurray! I smiled as I walked to the cafe for lunch a while ago, but my cool, calm demeanor  (new look for me this week!) was shattered pretty suddenly when I accidentally stepped on a kitten.

Remember how I said I was surprised to see dirty scraggly cats all over the old city?  Well, they aren't just in the old city-- they are everywhere.  I mean it, people: imagine that instead of sea gulls in Aberdeen or pigeons in New York or...Cubs fans in Chicago, there are cats everywhere. EVERY WHERE.  At first I wanted to pet and cuddle them all, but then I made the aforementioned SAT-like realization that

cats: Jerusalem :: pigeons: New York City

and of course pigeons in New York City = winged rats.  With the small difference that I do see baby cats all over in Jerusalem but you never really see baby pigeons in NYC. I leave this enigma to posterity for solving.

Here at the Givat Ram campus there is a lovely green space where people sit in the sun or in the shade of a very old tree with their friends, good food...and a herd of cats.  Today I counted 15 cats and 2 kittens swarming the lunch-goers on the lawn, just in the short space between my office building and the cafe.  It's nuts-o I tell you.  Nuts-o.  They even wander into the buildings sometimes.  I sort of hope that a few come to my lecture next week.

Anywho, that's it for now.  Tonight I am going to Tel Aviv (again!) because my new roommate M knows the family of a young concert pianist who is playing there.  The mother is actually giving me a ride to and from her son's concert! Her son is Jewish, and he and a very good friend and co-concert pianist who is Palestinian joined forces to become a concert piano duo.  They are awesome.  I can't wait.  Expect pictures soon!

Ezekiel and the Norwegians

Shabbat Shalom!

This afternoon I had rose petal tea, spice cake and fresh dates with my future flat-mate. (By the way, dates here are...extraordinary.  The best way to describe them is to imagine caramel...as a fruit. (Just think about it). )

Yes, I have found an apartment!  It's in the German Colony, a super-hip little area with its own shops, cafes, restaurants, post office, cinema showing obscure artsy-fartsy fabulousness...and of course my new residence.  I can't tell you how happy I am about having a place to call mine.  I've been living out of suitcases since mid-May now.  I want to hang up my clothes, you know?  Leave some things on the nightstand.  Have my toothbrush on its own wee shelf.  Make a mess I don't have to clean up. That sort of thing.

Except that I might not get to move in for 2 more weeks (eek). And even then, I will have some common rooms with an amazing woman (we'll call her M.) who is a lover of all the arts, a dancer and photographer herself, single and a little bit older, and who owns this enormous lovely modern flat. She's divided it into two mostly-separate spaces.   There are big exotic plants and lots of light and books all over the walls and, oh yes-- a piano! When I saw that lovely instrument resting against the living room wall, I knew M and I were destined to be roommates.

So we had tea today and got to know each other. Tomorrow night she has organized a concert in Tel Aviv for a young opera singer  and is going to take me along.  We've already made a million plans to see exhibitions, galleries, dance, theatre, movies, and of course music together.  I'm in heaven.  And M has a vast network of cool, über-hip artsy friends. Instant friends! (Via the commonly known Transitive Property of Roommate Friend Groups).  I plan to win them over through unabashedly nerdy adoration of their chic lifestyles.  Ask me in a few months how that's going...

M had a dinner invitation to get to, and so did I -- no one eats alone on Shabbat -- so I left the apartment and walked to the B&B I'm staying at for now.  It's only 10 minutes from my new place, and it's a huge house owned and run by several Norwegian Christian couples.  They are incredibly dear people, and they invited me to have Shabbat dinner with them.   We shared a good, hearty Norwegian meal and afterwards sang and played piano and guitar for each other.  I played Grieg on the piano, which I think you'll agree was très à propos.

At one point during the evening, a man came in and was welcomed with rapt attention.  He began telling a very long story which of course I couldn't understand (being in Norwegian) but it was something grave.  I gathered this because the women in the room made various gasping noises and shook their heads solemnly, while the men looked down at their toes and remained dead silent.
After it was done, everyone sat quietly for a long time.  Eventually I leaned to the man next to me and asked "What on earth was that about? You all seem very upset."

He told me.  Apparently about a month ago (and someone in the U.S. please tell me this was on the news and I just missed it-- I can't believe I heard about it for the first time tonight!) some 40-odd European countries started building legislation which would prohibit circumcision on (supposedly) medical grounds.  It now looks like this law (or whatever it is) is very near enactment.  What this means is a forced exodus of the Jews in these countries, who will most likely flood Israel.

Again:  over 40 European countries are moments away from voting in a law that would effectively expel all practicing Jews from those countries.

The man who had joined us (apparently high-up in the government here) reported that President Peres had written a personal letter to a prominent figure in Norwegian politics, begging the Norwegian to do all that was within his power to stop this law from coming into effect.  But anti-semitism is very much on the rise, and it is driving these laws. They are going to expel the Jews, and do so "legally".

I really can't believe this, even as I type it.  The Norwegian Christians sitting around the living room with me, who had been laughing and talking, drinking their coffee and eating their cakes, now sat silently praying -- they are great friends of Israel, these Christian people, and they are so broken-hearted about the rise of anti-semitism in Norway and in various other countries, that it took a little old woman's mention of Ezekiel to provide some hope.

See, Ezekiel the prophet foretold the return of Jews to their God-given land.  And while many believe that this prophesied return from exile was fulfilled at the end of the Babylonian captivity, some believe that it will be fulfilled a second time, and this instance of the Jews returning to Israel will mark the imminence of Christ's second coming.  Here's a passage to this effect (Ezekiel 34, NIV):

11 “‘For this is what the Sovereign Lord says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. 12 As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness. 13 I will bring them out from the nations and gather them from the countries, and I will bring them into their own land. I will pasture them on the mountains of Israel, in the ravines and in all the settlements in the land. 14 I will tend them in a good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel will be their grazing land. There they will lie down in good grazing land, and there they will feed in a rich pasture on the mountains of Israel." 

But there is more.  The old woman reminded us that there is also a prophesy that some Israelites will not wish to return and so must be brought back by force (I think she was referring to Ezekiel 17?).  Perhaps, the Norwegians speculated, through this new anti-semitic legislation God will bring great good-- the Jews will seek refuge in Israel.  Of course, the thought implicit here is that at this time, another prophesy will come to fruition, namely that the Jews will come to recognize Yeshua (ישוע) as the Messiah.

In all, a pretty interesting afternoon.  You see, everyone here is fully and presently aware of the power of faith, and it is too deeply imbued in all things to be ignored.  All things come to be seen and interpreted through a unique Jerusalem lens.   

-E

p.s. Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you haven't been going nutty these last few days.  I am alive, and my heart feels very big in this place.

Hot Time in the Old Town

My hotel is a just a holler away from Herod's Gate into the Old City, and so I've spent several hours wandering in there in the last day. The place is a fortress, and it was unreal to be inside.  I took some pictures, but they so abysmally fail to capture the aura that I'll have to put that off for a while.

Here are some of the highlights from my wanderings (haven't made it to the Temple Mount yet...in good time):

Things I did not expect:
-- to find the old city chock full of dirty kittens.  (I wonder if there were kittens around in Jesus' time, and if so, what they thought about...all that. Same question re the crusades.  It's just sort of funny to imagine the Knights of Templar cuddling up with a calico fluffball after a hard day of slaughter.)
-- to be pelted with pebbles by a small Arabic boy, who shouted at me as I walked past
-- to find the bazaars full of so much Western jangly crap
-- how small and crowded everything felt
-- how crazy tourists are even in the most sacred of places.  Three little boys ran into me (just after the pebble incident.  Which by the way, just amused me a little) and I asked if they would show my to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  Which they did, at break-neck speed, weaving and bobbing through the markets. We got to the Church and the boys pointed to the door and then rubbed their fingers together in that internationally-recognized sign for moola.  I gave them 25 shekels (about $7, those little punks) and walked inside.  Madness ensued.  This particular Sacred Spot gets its own post, after I've been there  a few times.
--to get asked on a date by a young Asian man just inside Jaffa Gate.  In fact, here's the entire conversation for your amusement (and also to answer the question, why doesn't Elise go on very many dates --answer: because I usually get asked by strange guys out of nowhere, with no context, and, because, well, read on):  Let's call the dude "Norman".

Norman: [approaching out of nowhere]: "Hello, where are you from?"
Me: "Uh, here. I live in Jerusalem.  Just moved here from the States."
Norman[completely dead-pan]: "You are very different, you are beautiful.  Will you have   a drink with me?"
Me [incredulously]: "Wait, what? How am I different from the thousands of other Western tourists here? [I sweepingly gesture to all the thousands of other Western tourists         loitering around] What are you selling?"
Norman: "You stand out.  Have a drink with me.  You are intelligent."
Me: "Wait a second, why do you think I'm intelligent? How could you possibly know that?"  [notice that I oh so humbly accept the premise]
Norman: "You moved to Jerusalem, so you are intelligent."
Me: [this is the worst reason I've ever heard.  But I try to be a bit charitable since I'm probably throwing him off his game. So I say, with great deal of charm] : "That's not a reason to think a person is intelligent.  How is it even relevant where...
Norman [cutting me off]: "Have a drink with me."
Me: "Seriously, what are you selling?"
Norman: [blank stare]
Me: "Um, okay.  Can you give me a good reason why I should have a drink with a total stranger? I mean, I know you think I look nice, but what will I get out of it?"
Norman: [blank stare]
Me: "Okay, well, thank you for your offer, I'm flattered, but I..have to go."
Norman [runs away, ducking behind David's Tower just in time to hide the onset of audible weeping].

Okay, so that last little bit didn't happen.  But the rest did.  Go ahead and judge me now.  

So much for surprises.  How about Things I did expect:
 -- the wonderful smell: warm pita bread, coffee, cardamon, cinnamon and pomegranates being mashed for juice
-- the feeling of stepping into the Old City and being transported back thousands of years (except for all the aforementioned crap. Nothing ruins old-world ambiance like a whole shop of Hello Kitty paraphernalia)
-- multitudes of tourist groups elbowing and jockeying for a space
-- to get lost, often. And how! Good thing is, if you stick to one direciton you eventually hit a wall with, like, battlements and such.  Big Hint.
--lots of nuns.  Everywhere.  And monks.
--to get hassled by Arab shop-keepers for my height and eye color.  They really think I'll buy their crap if they call me "Miss America"?  Pishaw.  Not...likely.

Well, long day tomorrow -- my first tour of campus, and a few meetings with apartment people.  Wish me luck...

Dust and Ants

During a coffee break this morning I stepped out onto the balcony for some sun and there I beheld two fascinating things: Thing One was the ominous sight of the Judean desert shrouded in a sort of pink-gray-taupe haze -- and this was no man-made phenomenon. Thing Two was a woman kneeling in the grass in front of the hostel, scooping ants into an ancient ram's horn with fierce concentration.

I was intrigued by this bizarre little tableau, so I took myself and my mug of instant coffee (beggars can't be choosers) and we went down to investigate. I asked the woman what in the name of Odin's beard she was doing, and she explained that the horn was new (and extremely expensive). It's the kind of horn people sound during prayer in this ancient land, as they've done for millennia (let's sit and contemplate that for a moment).

Since the horn was very new, it had a terrible odor -- remnants of the animal's flesh and blood still clung to the insides of the instrument.  Which is gross, and yet at the same time kind of bad-ass. Instead of using a chemical to clean the (extremely expensive, she reiterated) horn, she decided to let nature do the work: she was introducing the ants to an excellent and abundant food source by ushering them inside the alien object that had so mysteriously landed amidst their bustling metropolis. She told me "They are busy gathering their food for winter now and I want them to feed on this horn, it is very good for them! Also it will take away the odor for us." Which is gross, and yet at the same time entirely bad-ass. I tried to tell this woman she was my new hero, but instead she turned away to gaze at the hills, and explained for me Thing One: "There is a dust storm coming," she said.  "I could already this morning feel it in my eyes."

To which I unhesitatingly blurted out: "There's a dust storm coming here? Right now? Wow, how exotic!"She just laughed -- partly out of amusement, partly out of the wisdom that knows I'll be singing a different tune when it takes 5 shampoo cycles before I get all that sand out of my hair.

She went inside (presumably to avoid the impending storm) but I lingered for a while.  I knelt down in the grass with my coffee cup and tried to divert unsuspecting worker ants toward the bountiful riches of the alien object.  I tried unsuccessfully for several minutes to transport the more competent-looking ants directly into the mouth of the horn using a palm twig.  Finally, one precocious ant decided to cling ferociously to the airborne twig long enough to be introduced to the mysterious cave.  He paused to look at me for a moment, and in that glance I'd like to think I perceived sincere, ant-ish gratitude for rescuing him from a life of monotonous toil and granting him the opportunity to win favor with his people by leading them forth to untold treasure.  And in another tick, he turned and scrambled down into the depths.

I noticed then that without any help from me a single, itty bitty ant had managed to find my coffee and apparently was enjoying the taste more than I.  The air was becoming grittier by the moment, so I took one last swig of the stuff (which was, I confess, only improved by the ant-protein supplement) and headed indoors to wait out the storm.

I had more fun in those five minutes playing in the dirt with the ants than I'd had all morning. Playfully choosing for this one a life of valor and heroism, and for that one a swift and inglorious death-by-Nescafé... it made me recall the sentiments of one of Carl Sagan's fictional scientists: "It was vaguely burdensome, being responsible by your innocent actions for the fates of unknown worlds."