I cannot really explain why I have failed to update this blog lately: I know that some people enjoy reading it, and I also enjoy the time it affords me to reflect on events that have occurred recently.
In light of that, and the fact that my absense has probably chased off most of my friends who used to count on the consistantcy of my writing, I will skip a large chunk of my trip here, and just start from the past few days, along with some thoughts on the current situation.
Friday was the first time I had left Efrat in a week. I've been holed up in this beautiful encampment for 7 straight days, studying different bits of esoteric Jewish texts, some short bits of beauty and truth by the emminant Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, and the details of the human endocrine system (MCAT's, here I come!). I went in with the mission to go shopping for the different elements of my family and extended friends. I was mildly successful in this regard, but, after I checked a few people off my list, I (as usual) found myself distracted from this important task, by wandering into one of the greatest used bookstores...ever.
I should preface this by saying I am something of a used bookstore addict. Some people have chocolate, some crack-cocaine, others have their favorite TV show----I have used books. I would even say that it is my "anti-drug", except it has completely taken over, and I would simply call it "my-drug-of-choice." (To anyone keeping track, if you are ever wondering what to get me for a gift, it really is a simple as....a nice used book). Anyway, this used book store was very, very misleading. It was, first of all, tiny: the whole store couldn't have been bigger than 30 ft. by 30 ft. It was, literally, a hole-in-the-wall. Not only this, but about half of the store was taken up by books in Hebrew, a language that, although I have studied it for the bulk of my life, and cannot (for the life of me!) actually read it competantly. Instead, I was drawn to the small corner of English books. What made this corner so amazing, you are probably thinking? *Every single* book on its shelves were books that I either love, or I have wanted to read for some time. Not only did it literally contain every and any book I would want in a library of my own, but they were all lovely hardback editions of the books published back in the days when they knew how to publish a book (ie pre-1960!). To top it all off, none of the books cost more than 40 shekels (~$5).
The excuse I had made myself for entering this bookstore was looking for two VERY OBSCURE books that I did not really expect this place to have. The first was a famous Hebrew-to-English Dictionary compiled in the early 1950's by a famous Professor of Hebrew named Prof. Alcalay. It is considered THE definitive dictionary of classical Hebrew, and it was the key to all my Hebrew-reading problems. The only problem was: it stop being publised in 1965. The other book was a very, very obscure collection of essays written by a famous turn-of-the-century Jewish thinker who went by the pseudonym "Ahad Ha'am" ("One of the People"), aka Asher Ginzberg (). His name kept coming up in discussions with friends of mine, and I had a chance to glance through just this collection of essays, which a friend of mine at Yeshiva happened to have in his library (no small feat, considering Ahad Ha'am's radical nature, and a Hasidic reject to boot).
Do you think I would have gone to these lengths, describing these two very obscure and hard-to-find books if I hadn't, indeed, found them on the shelves of this amazing book store? No. They were both there, in beautiful, very-old editions (I can imagine they are both investments in their own right).
Anyway...I digress. I then hiked up Jaffa Street to Kikar Tzion and, deciding I had had enough of sitting by idley while my brothers were fighting up North, I joined the A.....I mean I donated some blood. I know what all of you at home in the US are thinking: are you crazy, Michael!? How could you risk such a promising, young life, right as it was getting interesting?! Well, I guess I am just an idealist.
By this time, I was hungry, a little woozy from loosing a pint of plasma, eurykothytes, leukocytes, platelets, hemoglobin, assorted amino acids, proteins, and a lot of water (note: My grandmother doubted I would actually do my MCAT studying here in Israel. I love you Mama Reggie, but I have proved you wrong). I was also itching to start reading my new book. So I got lunch at "The Village Green", an amazing vegetarian restaurant, with hippie-watching galore.
I will now do a quick run-through of my Shabbat. Two good friends of mine: Chaim Kutnicki and Samuel "Shmulik" Korb, were coming to spend Shabbat with me at my Yeshiva (where we were having our final "in-shabbat" of the summer). What is important is that I knew Sam was visiting, but I have *completely* forgotten that Chaim was going to be visiting as well. Around 1 PM on Friday, I got a call on my trusty "pelah-phone" (Hebrew for "miracle phone") from Chaim: "Hey Mike, what's up?"....Me: "Not much, Chaim, what's new with you?".....*small talk*....Chaim: "So, you remember that I am staying with you for Shabbat, right?".....Me: "Offfff course! Yeah. Can I call you back in one second...?"
Anyway, it all worked out in the end. The two of them joined me on the bus ride back to Efrat (complete with a long phonecall from Chaim's mother, in which we spent 30 minutes assuring her that the bus to Efrat is, indeed, bullet-proof.
Shabbat was wonderful: full of great food, good prayer, and some very impressive talks from the "Rosh Yeshiva" (lit. "The Head of the Yeshiva"), Rabbi Brovender. He spoke a few times over the course of Shabbat, but the thought that has stuck with me the most was, when talking about the upcoming national-day-of-mourning/Fast Day refered to as "Tisha B'Av" (lit. "The 9th Day of the Month of Av"), segwaying from a rather hilarious account of obscure Halacha that applies to the day, he declared, "...The bottom line is, Shabbat beats out Tisha B'Av. It always will. We might be mourning next Thursday, but---no matter what people try to do to us---we are still here, we are still mourning on this day, when both the first and second temples were destroyed, but we are mourning them ONLY because we never gave up hope that we would return to the land....and here we are."
I will take this chance to segway into a light review of my outlook on the "here we are": i.e. here in The Land of Israel. I don't want anyone to think I have dropped my stalwart, anti-expanstionist tendancies, and joined the cult referred to "Religious Zionism." I am *certainly* a Zionist, though probably closer to Ahad Ha'am's "Cultural Zionism" than anything else. On the other hand, in the last few weeks especially, I have become more and more sensitive to how important Israel is for Jews around the world, both physically and spiritually.
The events of the past few weeks (ie "The War in the North") have been cathartic in a few ways. First of all, it has shown how deep much of the Muslim world's hatred for Israel runs. What has really demonstrated this is something that seems to have been completely looked over in what I have read in the main-stream Western press: the terrorist group Hezbollah stands for NOTHING except the destruction of Israel, hatred of Jews around the world, and hatred of America. Please, do not mix up Hezbollah with other groups such as Hamas. As awful as Hamas is, they at least have a cause (ie the defense of the Palestinian people), and they are (many hate to admit) legitimate, especially now that they are no longer able to kill innocent Israeli in suicide bombings (well....they are still trying, but Israel is doing an amazing job at hampering these efforts, thank G-d).
Hezbollah, on the other hand, started as a defense group for the Shiites living in Southern Lebanon when Israel still occupied that land. When Israel withdrew COMPLETELY from there in 2000, the UN passed a very popular resolution calling for the disarmament of the terrorist group by the Lebanese government. For no good reason, this just never happened (see: 1,403,983 times the UN has been ineffective at doing anything). Hezbollah continued building up arms (supplied by Iran and Syria), against Israel....to prepare for its destruction. Make no mistake: they do not even pretend to be freedom fighters. They just want to kill Jews. Case in point: when Israel bombed one of their military outpost in Lebanon a decade ago, their response was.....to bomb a Jewish community center in Argentina that killed a few dozen Jews. This is not a case of Jewish neuroticism: they simply hate Jews.
Iran is even worse. I am going to stop this rant, because it is going no where, but I think the Western world, but especially Jews, should be frightened of Iran's nuclear program. They are NOT crazy, nor are they stupid. Iran wants to be one of the world's new Superpowers, and they are convinced that having nuclear weapons, as well as a good portion of the world's oil source, will help them acheive that status....and they might be right. Their leader also claims the Holocaust didn't happen, and openly stated that one of his goals as President is to "wipe Israel off the map."
Anyway, Islamic funtamentalism's anti-semitism is nothing new , but I have managed to live my life for the last 22 years believing that it has mostly been eradicated from this world, and that even the Muslim world's deep-mistrust of Israel would melt away once something resembling peace emerged in the region.
Now, I really don't believe that at all. I really don't know what to think. I am saddened by every innocent Lebanese death that has occurred in the last few weeks, but I cannot fight the feeling that....better them than us.
Final thought: the final step in the evolution from "multiple gods" to Abraham's "One G-d" was from the nationalist "our nations god versus your nations god" to the Universalist "G-d". What makes monotheism so important to this world is that, when we believe in and/or pray to that G-d, we are, in some way, praying for the benefit of all humanity. I don't think there is any question that the death of innocent civilians (who are suffering the brunt of the current conflict, whether it be the American civilians who died on September 11th, the Israeli casualities of the many suicide bombings, the innocent Palestinians and Lebanese civilians, etc., etc.) is a blow to this universalist philosophy. I know, from being here for the last 2 months, that Israelis are tired of being killed by fanatical Muslims, but---probably worse---are tired of being forced to kill them. As former Prime Minister Golda Meir said, "We may be able to forgive you for killing our sons, but we will never be able to forgive you for making us kill yours."
Here's hoping that---somehow---we will find a way to some form of peace.
Michael
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
I first want to aplogize for a lack of postings here. I guess this break in posting comes from a lot of sources, but mostly because I've been so busy here with day-to-day dealings that I haven't had time to post.
Which, of course, is a vicious cycle, since now I feel responsible for posting the million-and-one things that I've been up to, and my thoughts on the conflict, but don't have the time.
I will say this (again): I am safe here. I am certainly as safe I was before the rockets started raining down on (Northern) Israel, and probably safer (due to complex set of events that I won't get into). The point is: Israelis are a resiliant people, they would rather pack up their bags and leave than let a bunch of missles ruin their day. They've all served in the military, most have been through this before (think, 1991, Bush #1, Saddam Hussien, scuds all over Israel...). It's simply a different way of living here.
Speaking of which (mom, stop reading...actually, you know all this): I love it here so much. I love the people for their disinterested way of living life, for their livliness, their love of the country, their Mediterrainean beauty, their ability to combine a life that is equal parts 21st century and 1st century. I love the land: tree covered hills, nothern mountains, coastal cities, desert, southern resort cities, ancient-mystical cites, modern cities, desert encampments, West Bank enclaves....all aged thousands of years, connected by a rapid-transit bus system.
Life here is just so much more refreshing than it is in the states. On one hand: of course it feels like that to me, since all I am doing here is learning and visiting people---I have no responsibilities (besides calling my mother once a day), and no worries about anything. However, while I admit this probably has an effect on how I view this country (esp. since I understand that actually *living* here and dealing with the meshugass of the government, and making a living, etc can be overwhelming), I know what I like, and I like Israelis. I am in the camp of religious Jews (see Yeshayahu Leibowitz or Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel) who believe that Judaism has no real concept of holiness of PLACES (ie the physical), and, thus, do not want to claim I find this place more-or-less holy than somewhere else. On the other hand...the people make this place like no other place in the world.
I'll stop with this Israel-love fest.
Everything has been status-quo at the Yeshiva. Still learning the same things with the same Rabbis. While it's a bit late, I am going to try to post some ideas that are brought up in our classes that you can chew over, and possibly add some thoughts to (actually, I will add one of the more interesting ideas I came across last week at the end of this post....be excited!).
I spent last Shabbat (a week ago...July 14-15) in Jerusalem at the apartment of my friend Rachel. Rachel was supposed to have a huge pot-luck dinner with her friends from Pardes (a center for modern Jewish learning...or something like that), and----in an amazing (and ironic/gross) display of disregard for possibly all Jewish ethics---nearly all of these kids backed out of the dinner, leaving Rachel to cook for 15 people all by herself, and the kids who *did* show up did not contribute anything to the dinner, and, before the meal was up, annouced that they were "going to (Jewish name)'s apartment for a get together there" (ie they not only decided that our dinner wasn't good enough for them, but found it important to inform us that they had a better place to go to). I could go on....but I would be doing the entire meal a huge dis-service: I had a wonderful time. The food was amazing, I was around friends (Matt Cons, as well as two friends from Wellesley were also there), and my contribution to the meal (namely: a bottle of vodka) was put to good use. We had some intersting discussions (well....yeah), we sang some beautiful z'mirot, and...had an all-around great Shabbat dinner. Matt Cons and I crashed there for the night.
We woke up the next morning in time for the "Late Minyan", which is apparently a famous minyan in the Baka neighborhood (where Rachel lives), that starts at the late hour of...9:45. Israelis are famous for starting VERY early on Saturday, for no apparant reason that I can tell, besides that of annoying Americans who like to sleep a bit later on Saturdays. Most minyans start between 7-8 AM on Saturday, and are done by 9:30 or 10 (contrast with American Shabbat Services, which tend to start around 9 or 10, and end around noon). Anyway, the "Late Minyan" starts at 9:45, and is a bunch of funny British guys who, like myself, enjoy their weekend beauty sleep. The service was swift, and to the point (just how I like it), and we were out of there by 11:30.
Alright. I need to go to bed, but I will try to do some more updating as the week goes by. I hope everyone in America is doing alright (and dealing with the heat alright). It has been great to hear from all of you (who have written), and especially great to get some feedback/response to the blog.
Anyway, I will leave you with the small Torah thought I promised:
In a class on Halacha, or basic Jewish law, the Rabbi was explaining that a famous posek (well-regarded, famous rabbi who is able to make big decisions regarding Jewish law) made the point that, with all of the intense silliness about kosher-ness in the religious community, there is very clear law in the Talmud that goes like this: If you are invited to a dinner, wedding, bar mitzvah party, or anywhere else food is going to be served, and, when you find out that a certain Rabbi certified the food as kosher, and---either not knowing said Rabbi, or not thinking him "good enough" for yourself---decide to refrain from eating the food, you are committing a HUGE sin, which is much, much worse than actually eating non-kosher. The point here being that you are publically announcing that you find Rabbi so-and-so not up to your standards, and you are publically insulting/embaressing him AND whoever through the party. By the way, he makes the point that you MUST eat at this event. Even if you don't make a big fuss about it, you are still held liable.
The Rabbi (in our class) then went on to tell the story about a big dinner he went to in Jerusalem a few years back, which was obviously kosher, but there were some Haredim (ultra-Orthodox) there who refused to eat. Bottom line: don't lose out on the big picture.
I miss you all,
Michael
Which, of course, is a vicious cycle, since now I feel responsible for posting the million-and-one things that I've been up to, and my thoughts on the conflict, but don't have the time.
I will say this (again): I am safe here. I am certainly as safe I was before the rockets started raining down on (Northern) Israel, and probably safer (due to complex set of events that I won't get into). The point is: Israelis are a resiliant people, they would rather pack up their bags and leave than let a bunch of missles ruin their day. They've all served in the military, most have been through this before (think, 1991, Bush #1, Saddam Hussien, scuds all over Israel...). It's simply a different way of living here.
Speaking of which (mom, stop reading...actually, you know all this): I love it here so much. I love the people for their disinterested way of living life, for their livliness, their love of the country, their Mediterrainean beauty, their ability to combine a life that is equal parts 21st century and 1st century. I love the land: tree covered hills, nothern mountains, coastal cities, desert, southern resort cities, ancient-mystical cites, modern cities, desert encampments, West Bank enclaves....all aged thousands of years, connected by a rapid-transit bus system.
Life here is just so much more refreshing than it is in the states. On one hand: of course it feels like that to me, since all I am doing here is learning and visiting people---I have no responsibilities (besides calling my mother once a day), and no worries about anything. However, while I admit this probably has an effect on how I view this country (esp. since I understand that actually *living* here and dealing with the meshugass of the government, and making a living, etc can be overwhelming), I know what I like, and I like Israelis. I am in the camp of religious Jews (see Yeshayahu Leibowitz or Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel) who believe that Judaism has no real concept of holiness of PLACES (ie the physical), and, thus, do not want to claim I find this place more-or-less holy than somewhere else. On the other hand...the people make this place like no other place in the world.
I'll stop with this Israel-love fest.
Everything has been status-quo at the Yeshiva. Still learning the same things with the same Rabbis. While it's a bit late, I am going to try to post some ideas that are brought up in our classes that you can chew over, and possibly add some thoughts to (actually, I will add one of the more interesting ideas I came across last week at the end of this post....be excited!).
I spent last Shabbat (a week ago...July 14-15) in Jerusalem at the apartment of my friend Rachel. Rachel was supposed to have a huge pot-luck dinner with her friends from Pardes (a center for modern Jewish learning...or something like that), and----in an amazing (and ironic/gross) display of disregard for possibly all Jewish ethics---nearly all of these kids backed out of the dinner, leaving Rachel to cook for 15 people all by herself, and the kids who *did* show up did not contribute anything to the dinner, and, before the meal was up, annouced that they were "going to (Jewish name)'s apartment for a get together there" (ie they not only decided that our dinner wasn't good enough for them, but found it important to inform us that they had a better place to go to). I could go on....but I would be doing the entire meal a huge dis-service: I had a wonderful time. The food was amazing, I was around friends (Matt Cons, as well as two friends from Wellesley were also there), and my contribution to the meal (namely: a bottle of vodka) was put to good use. We had some intersting discussions (well....yeah), we sang some beautiful z'mirot, and...had an all-around great Shabbat dinner. Matt Cons and I crashed there for the night.
We woke up the next morning in time for the "Late Minyan", which is apparently a famous minyan in the Baka neighborhood (where Rachel lives), that starts at the late hour of...9:45. Israelis are famous for starting VERY early on Saturday, for no apparant reason that I can tell, besides that of annoying Americans who like to sleep a bit later on Saturdays. Most minyans start between 7-8 AM on Saturday, and are done by 9:30 or 10 (contrast with American Shabbat Services, which tend to start around 9 or 10, and end around noon). Anyway, the "Late Minyan" starts at 9:45, and is a bunch of funny British guys who, like myself, enjoy their weekend beauty sleep. The service was swift, and to the point (just how I like it), and we were out of there by 11:30.
Alright. I need to go to bed, but I will try to do some more updating as the week goes by. I hope everyone in America is doing alright (and dealing with the heat alright). It has been great to hear from all of you (who have written), and especially great to get some feedback/response to the blog.
Anyway, I will leave you with the small Torah thought I promised:
In a class on Halacha, or basic Jewish law, the Rabbi was explaining that a famous posek (well-regarded, famous rabbi who is able to make big decisions regarding Jewish law) made the point that, with all of the intense silliness about kosher-ness in the religious community, there is very clear law in the Talmud that goes like this: If you are invited to a dinner, wedding, bar mitzvah party, or anywhere else food is going to be served, and, when you find out that a certain Rabbi certified the food as kosher, and---either not knowing said Rabbi, or not thinking him "good enough" for yourself---decide to refrain from eating the food, you are committing a HUGE sin, which is much, much worse than actually eating non-kosher. The point here being that you are publically announcing that you find Rabbi so-and-so not up to your standards, and you are publically insulting/embaressing him AND whoever through the party. By the way, he makes the point that you MUST eat at this event. Even if you don't make a big fuss about it, you are still held liable.
The Rabbi (in our class) then went on to tell the story about a big dinner he went to in Jerusalem a few years back, which was obviously kosher, but there were some Haredim (ultra-Orthodox) there who refused to eat. Bottom line: don't lose out on the big picture.
I miss you all,
Michael
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Israel Update
While I am sure the American media has made the proverbial "mountain out of molehill" out of what is happening here, the situation on the ground for an American tourist (like myself) in-and-around Jerusalem is not so severe. Honestly, I have the same feeling I had during the Hurrican Katrina disaster: the events taking place are so horrible and so close, yet strangley removed from actually affecting me. As much as we are praying for all of the families who lost a loved one, as well as for the captured soldier's safe return, I do not know anyone who is involved in what is going on, since most people I deal with here are American.
Anyway, today is the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz. It is remembered as the day that the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem, which began the three-week seige of the city that eventually led to its destruction (on the 9th of Av). It also commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, saw the golden calf, and broke the two tablets. Really, the Jewish people could probably pick any day of the year, and find some terrible event that occurred on that day, and have a fast.
On the other hand, it's amazing to think that, as tragic as tyesterday's attacks in Northern Israel were, we live in a era where we have a very strong, secure country where Jews can live without the fear of large scale tragedies, as our grandparents, and generations before them were used to.
I wish everyone who is fasting an easy fast.
Best,
Michael
[Update: I take back not knowing anyone directly affected by this. An old friend of mine, Bezalel Friedman (on active duty as a paratrooper) is being sent to the front.]
While I am sure the American media has made the proverbial "mountain out of molehill" out of what is happening here, the situation on the ground for an American tourist (like myself) in-and-around Jerusalem is not so severe. Honestly, I have the same feeling I had during the Hurrican Katrina disaster: the events taking place are so horrible and so close, yet strangley removed from actually affecting me. As much as we are praying for all of the families who lost a loved one, as well as for the captured soldier's safe return, I do not know anyone who is involved in what is going on, since most people I deal with here are American.
Anyway, today is the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz. It is remembered as the day that the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem, which began the three-week seige of the city that eventually led to its destruction (on the 9th of Av). It also commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, saw the golden calf, and broke the two tablets. Really, the Jewish people could probably pick any day of the year, and find some terrible event that occurred on that day, and have a fast.
On the other hand, it's amazing to think that, as tragic as tyesterday's attacks in Northern Israel were, we live in a era where we have a very strong, secure country where Jews can live without the fear of large scale tragedies, as our grandparents, and generations before them were used to.
I wish everyone who is fasting an easy fast.
Best,
Michael
[Update: I take back not knowing anyone directly affected by this. An old friend of mine, Bezalel Friedman (on active duty as a paratrooper) is being sent to the front.]
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I just ate three huge slices of cheese pizza, and, for some reason, remembered that I need to update this blog. I am not exactly sure what one has to do with the other, though I speculate that increase in cheese in my system created a balance of geometery and theology. Either that, or my arteries are too clogged to do anything but sit in front of this computer and update whoever-it-is-that-reads-this as to what is going on here.
Actually, I have decided to write about what it is I am doing on a day-to-day basis here, instead of the funny little trips I take on the weekends.
I learn Torah. I am using the word "Torah" here liberally, to encompass everything from the 5 Books of Moses, to the Talmud, to the commentaries on the commentaries that are still being written today [note: Judaism is, contrary to Ahad Haam's opinion, a living, organic conversation.] I came here primarily to brush up on my Hebrew and Aramaic skills, as well as to pick up a little philosophy and have a few interesting discussions on the side.
Every morning here in the beautiful Judean Hills, we have a Gemara (Talmud) class at 9 am taught by Rabbi Yitchak Blau, of "Torah U'Madah" fame. He gives us a source sheet that we (my "study group", or chevrusah) pour over for 2 hours, trying to translate the (many) words we don't understand, and come up with any questions we might have during lecture. At 11, we have lecture, where Rabbi Blau stands in front of us and we begin a discussion about the topic at hand. We are currently finishing up the first chapter of "Makot" (pronounced "Mah-coat"), which is a tractate in the Talmud that deals with crimes that should incur either lashes or capital punishment. Up until now, we have mostly dealt with the case of lying witnesses ("eidim zommemim"), who are to be punished with whatever punishment their false testimony would have brought upon the defendant about whom they were testifying. This, naturally, becomes interesting when they were testifying in a capital case. The chapter works its way up to the end, in which there is the famous discussion between the Rabbis about the philosophy behind the death penalty; basically, the argument revolves around two ideas: Should the death penalty ever, really, be carried out, or is it just a theoretical construct that the insanely strict laws regarding how to get a kosher testimony in a capital case technically rule out? And, more importantly, what is the point of capital punishment? Is it for deterence, retributive justice, or for theoretical justice? Though the Talmud doesn't phrase it in exactly this language, much of these questions (and Rabbi's interesting thoughts on them) are found in Rabbinical exegesis, commentary, etc.
After this, we have lunch, and then about an hour break before Mincha, the afternoon prayer.
After Mincha, I usually learn with one of the school's rabbinical students-cum-Rabbi, Rabbi Gabe, in the Or HaChaim's commentary on the Weekly Torah portion. The Or HaChaim was a 18th century Rabbi and mystic who was born (I think) in Spain, moved around different Mediterranean countries, until finally ending up in Israel (where he died). He was famous for many things besides his very poetic commentary on the Torah, such as his correspondence with the Baal Shem Tov (the founder of the Chasidic movement, also a mystic), and their attempt to meet up in Israel (which the Baal Shem Tov failed to do). Anyway, his commentary is famously poetic, and, thus, both beautiful and famously difficult to understand. It is a commentary that has not been properly translated into English (that I know of), and probably shouldn't be (since most of it would be lost in translation). Which is why I am having Rabbi Gabe help me through the basic grammer and vocabulary of it, in the hopes that I will be able to continue studying it either on my own, or with a bit of help when I am back in Boston.
Also, in the afternoon, I have an assortment of classes, depending on the day of the week. They range from classes on Halacha to classes on Torah to classes on Jewish Philosophy (which is my favorite, taught by Rabbi Brovender). In the philosophy class, we are reading Rambam's (Maimonedes) introduction to the Mishna, which is fascinating both for its rugged simplicity, and well as still-radical-today ideas (ie no miracles ever "break" the laws of Nature, the way to get closest to G-d is through study of Philosophy, including non-Jewish philosophers (he was a huge fan of Aristotle)).
At night, I usually review some of the vocabulary I had learned that day, and then go and study MCATs. Before I hurt my leg, I would also play soccer or basketball before dinner. That's about it.
Tomorrow, I am going with one of my friends at the Yeshiva (a very interesting kid who seems to have an intensely deep knowledge of Jewish texts, secular philosophy, literature, American pop-culture, and Japanase animae) to see Matthew Barney's (Bjork's husband) movie called "Drawing Restraint 9". I have heard both that it is amazingly wonderful and the worst movie ever. There is apparently almost no dialogue, and the entire film takes place on the last whaling ship in the world, and it stars....Matthew Barney and Bjork, with a soundtrack by Bjork. So....yeah. I am sure I will have something to write about that.
Thursday is 17th of Tammuz, which is a minor fast day on the Jewish calender that commemorate the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem before the destruction of the first temple at the hands of the Babylonians under the rule of Nebechanezzer. Thursday morning is also the bris of my friend Jake Solomon's new baby boy. And Friday is the bris of Rabbi Gabe's first born son. A lot of happiness and sadness in the course of a few days!
It's great hearing from those of you who have written. I hope all of you have having a wonderful summer, and I look forward to seeing those of you that I will see once I return to the states.
All the best,
Michael
Actually, I have decided to write about what it is I am doing on a day-to-day basis here, instead of the funny little trips I take on the weekends.
I learn Torah. I am using the word "Torah" here liberally, to encompass everything from the 5 Books of Moses, to the Talmud, to the commentaries on the commentaries that are still being written today [note: Judaism is, contrary to Ahad Haam's opinion, a living, organic conversation.] I came here primarily to brush up on my Hebrew and Aramaic skills, as well as to pick up a little philosophy and have a few interesting discussions on the side.
Every morning here in the beautiful Judean Hills, we have a Gemara (Talmud) class at 9 am taught by Rabbi Yitchak Blau, of "Torah U'Madah" fame. He gives us a source sheet that we (my "study group", or chevrusah) pour over for 2 hours, trying to translate the (many) words we don't understand, and come up with any questions we might have during lecture. At 11, we have lecture, where Rabbi Blau stands in front of us and we begin a discussion about the topic at hand. We are currently finishing up the first chapter of "Makot" (pronounced "Mah-coat"), which is a tractate in the Talmud that deals with crimes that should incur either lashes or capital punishment. Up until now, we have mostly dealt with the case of lying witnesses ("eidim zommemim"), who are to be punished with whatever punishment their false testimony would have brought upon the defendant about whom they were testifying. This, naturally, becomes interesting when they were testifying in a capital case. The chapter works its way up to the end, in which there is the famous discussion between the Rabbis about the philosophy behind the death penalty; basically, the argument revolves around two ideas: Should the death penalty ever, really, be carried out, or is it just a theoretical construct that the insanely strict laws regarding how to get a kosher testimony in a capital case technically rule out? And, more importantly, what is the point of capital punishment? Is it for deterence, retributive justice, or for theoretical justice? Though the Talmud doesn't phrase it in exactly this language, much of these questions (and Rabbi's interesting thoughts on them) are found in Rabbinical exegesis, commentary, etc.
After this, we have lunch, and then about an hour break before Mincha, the afternoon prayer.
After Mincha, I usually learn with one of the school's rabbinical students-cum-Rabbi, Rabbi Gabe, in the Or HaChaim's commentary on the Weekly Torah portion. The Or HaChaim was a 18th century Rabbi and mystic who was born (I think) in Spain, moved around different Mediterranean countries, until finally ending up in Israel (where he died). He was famous for many things besides his very poetic commentary on the Torah, such as his correspondence with the Baal Shem Tov (the founder of the Chasidic movement, also a mystic), and their attempt to meet up in Israel (which the Baal Shem Tov failed to do). Anyway, his commentary is famously poetic, and, thus, both beautiful and famously difficult to understand. It is a commentary that has not been properly translated into English (that I know of), and probably shouldn't be (since most of it would be lost in translation). Which is why I am having Rabbi Gabe help me through the basic grammer and vocabulary of it, in the hopes that I will be able to continue studying it either on my own, or with a bit of help when I am back in Boston.
Also, in the afternoon, I have an assortment of classes, depending on the day of the week. They range from classes on Halacha to classes on Torah to classes on Jewish Philosophy (which is my favorite, taught by Rabbi Brovender). In the philosophy class, we are reading Rambam's (Maimonedes) introduction to the Mishna, which is fascinating both for its rugged simplicity, and well as still-radical-today ideas (ie no miracles ever "break" the laws of Nature, the way to get closest to G-d is through study of Philosophy, including non-Jewish philosophers (he was a huge fan of Aristotle)).
At night, I usually review some of the vocabulary I had learned that day, and then go and study MCATs. Before I hurt my leg, I would also play soccer or basketball before dinner. That's about it.
Tomorrow, I am going with one of my friends at the Yeshiva (a very interesting kid who seems to have an intensely deep knowledge of Jewish texts, secular philosophy, literature, American pop-culture, and Japanase animae) to see Matthew Barney's (Bjork's husband) movie called "Drawing Restraint 9". I have heard both that it is amazingly wonderful and the worst movie ever. There is apparently almost no dialogue, and the entire film takes place on the last whaling ship in the world, and it stars....Matthew Barney and Bjork, with a soundtrack by Bjork. So....yeah. I am sure I will have something to write about that.
Thursday is 17th of Tammuz, which is a minor fast day on the Jewish calender that commemorate the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem before the destruction of the first temple at the hands of the Babylonians under the rule of Nebechanezzer. Thursday morning is also the bris of my friend Jake Solomon's new baby boy. And Friday is the bris of Rabbi Gabe's first born son. A lot of happiness and sadness in the course of a few days!
It's great hearing from those of you who have written. I hope all of you have having a wonderful summer, and I look forward to seeing those of you that I will see once I return to the states.
All the best,
Michael
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Last Week (Part II)
I have some free time to write now that I sprained my ankle. At least I hope it is only sprained.
I left off when I met the 3 kids (Daniel, the Austrailian; Brad, the UPenn kid; and Elana, Daniel's friend) in front of the Jaffa Gate, along with my friend Matt Cons. We walked from the Old City to "Machane Yehuda" (also known as "the Shuk", or market), which is a huge, sprawling market with fresh vegtables, fish, baked goods, sweets, clothing....you name it. It is a series of kiosks situated on two sides of a walkway, with many parallel walkways, and lots of twists and turns. It is always crowded with people from every walk of Jerusalem life: Chasidic Jews, Fransican Monks, Right-Wing Settler Jews, tourists....everyone yelling, shoving, haggling over anything and everything. Since the market is near the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods in Jerusalem, most of the stuff is kosher. Including the Indian Restraunt ("Chadra") that is hidden in a tiny nook in the middle of the market.
This place was amazing. It is run by about 5 people who are all the same (Israelis who look like they spent at least 3 years in India on serious drugs---complete with dreadlocks and spaced-out gazes), and the food is all vegetarian, and cooked from things that they buy in the market that surrounds the restaurant. Basically, for lunch we payed 25 shekels ($5.25), and we got a huge tray of sauses, naan bread, vegetable curries.....and it was all-you-can-eat, so if you finish the tray, they fill it back up.
The best part of it is, they set up the tables outside the little hole in the wall they call the restaurant, and so we get to "people watch" around the Shuk while enjoying our (amazing) Indian food. This place has apparently become a weekly tradition for my friend Daniel, who not only brought the four of us along, but was met up by 5 other Austrailian friends of his who were in Jerusalem (probably a good percentage of the Aussie expatriot community in Israel). The whole experience was hilarious---I could barely understand what these Austrailians were saying, the spaced-out hippie waitress kept messing up our order, crazy Jews were arguing over the funniest things at the different booths around us, and I was (as usual) making a huge mess with all of the food.
Eventually, as most meals end with me, I decided to get a haircut (alright---that's NOT normal, but it really had gotten out of control). The actual inspiration was that the kiosk to the immediate right of the Indian restaurant was a barber. When I was (finally) done with my food, I walked over, and, in the worst Hebrew ever, asked if if could get a trim. The guy gave me a funny look, and then looked around, and---realizing I wasn't a native Hebrew speaker---decided he would pantomime to me that he was CLOSED (note: even though my Hebrew was bad, he could have just said in Hebrew, "No. We are closed." But, as is the normal Israeli attitude toward Americans, he decided he would treat me like a child). Still feeling confident after 3 trays of delicious Indian food, I convinced myself that, if there is one barbershop in this market, there must be at least one more that isn't closing right now.
After about a 3 minute walk, I did, indeed, find an open barbershop. For 35 shekels ($7.30), the guy pretty much shaved my head. It actually looked pretty good, besides the fact that he didn't even wipe all the hair off of my face before he threw me out of his chair for the next customer. Satisfied, I met up with the group once more (which had dwindled down to Daniel and Brad, since everyone else was off to their respective Shabbat destinations), and we headed for the Central Bus Station, where Daniel was taking me to some family's house for Shabbat, and Brad was catching a ride back to the Yeshiva.
Let me remind you of what was going on in Gaza, as well as the fact that the Rabbi at our Yeshiva had spent 12 minutes lecturing us the day before about NOT TAKING RIDES WITH PEOPLE YOU DON'T KNOW. Now, to an American, this seems logical: hitchhiking is just plain stupid in America, land of crazies and lord-knows what else. But to an Australian Oleh, who had spent the last year in Israel, you might as well have told him to stop breathing---that is HOW he travels.
That said, I convinced him that we should take the bus to Elkanah, our destination for the Sabbath. After a lot of back and forth, he finally relented, and we got the bus that I thought would take us there. After making my ritual call home (as I do every Friday), I quickly fell asleep. About 20 minutes later, Danial wakes me up and tells me this is our stop. We get off....at a highway junction in the middle of nowhere. I ask him, "Where is their house?" half joking, half wondering how long I am going to need to shlep the huge backpack I am carrying. He says (with his Aussie twang), "Oh, you know! We-ah jus walkin' over to theh tremping (Isreali word for hitchhike) spot." I politely reminded him of my desire to NOT "tremp", and his response was, "Oh. No worries. The dividin' fence cuts the highway off a few miles down, so no A-rabs can get here anyway."
I should first of all note that I was told Elkanah (our destination) was a "suburb of Petach Tikvah" (which is a suburb of Tel Aviv). Though this was not a lie, I had no idea of tiny the distance from the West Bank to Tel Aviv was, and, although on a clear day you can see the Mediterranean from the hilltops of Elkanah, it is squarely behind the "Green Line," though (thankfully) on the "right" side of the new security fence.
Anyway, completely furious at this kid for dragging me into some awful situcation, we very quickly got a ride from a very polite Israeli couple going to Elkana for Shabbat as well, bought some flowers at the point we were dropped off in front of the city (where we became very impressed at ourselves for figuring out that if we bought two bunches of the monochromatic flower bunches, we could mix them up to make a much nicer array of flowers. We chose red and yellow, and very quickly pointed this out to the family when we arrived at their house, ie that we had mixed them up ourselves...).
Still a bit mad at this kid, we showed up at the house (the name on the door said "Ashoel's" in Hebrew, but I later found out it was pronouned with Yeminite pronunciation, which sounded something like "Ashwa'al's"). The family was an amazingly welcoming group of Yemini Jews, of the more rightwing, religious bent. Daniel knew the family because the oldest daughter, Shimrit, had done her Israeli Civil Service as a "messenger" for Israel in Austrailia, where she had helped set up Zionist Youth groups. She apparently also served some time in Atlanta, but he English was a very silly mix of Australian and Israeli accents. It actually sounded a little like the way Indian people sound when they are from India and talk with a (sort of) English accent. Her younger sister, Sharon (pronouned like the Prime Minister, not the American way), had done her time in Toronto, so she, too, knew English (sort of). The rest of the family included their father, mother, the oldest (and only) brother, who was married, and two younter sisters, ALL of whom live in the same house, and NONE of whom spoke more than two words of English.
Which should have been alright, except understanding Hebrew, and understanding the way that native Israelis speak in their house are completely different things. So basically Danial, Shimrit, and Sharon acted as translators for bulk of the weekend. Which was absolutely amazing. This family was a very stereotypical (at least in my mind) Israeli family, complete with hilarious political arguments over the dinner and lunch table that I understood about 1/10th of. I could go on....but I will try to just sum up the weekend as best I can.
Friday night dinner lasted until about midnight (note: I was still very, very tired from not sleeping the night before, so....this was a bit difficult). I could go on talking about how amazing this Yemini food was (and the amazing amounts of it), but it would just make all of you so jealous. So I will just refrain.
I was all ready to go to bed, when Shimrit proposed we go for a walk around town (pretty much what all Israelis do on Shabbat), and we make the grueling hike up and down the town's hills. When we were getting back to their house at around 1:15 in the morning, half of the town must have still been outside: the older men and women shuffling around, the younger married couples shmoozing about the latest town gossip, and all of the kids forming little circles at different strategic points, close-to or far-away from the appropriate cliques.
I was woken up at 7 AM for the early minyan (oh sleep!), which I sat zombie-eyed through, and then went back to the house to wait around until lunch was ready to be served. Lunch lasted three hours, was even more delicious than the night before, and included a hilarious episode of the family yelling at each other in frantic Hebrew over the LEVEL of Olmert's (the Israeli Prime Minister) incompetance, as well as complaints regarding the fact that, if Israel were allowed to behave like the US (viz. Iraq), that there would be no Palestinian issue. The best part of the entire thing was when Sharon remarked, "I wish George Bush was our President." At which point I spit out the food that was in my mouth, and Daniel's mouth fell open (in case you didn't realize, Aussies apparently all dislike their own Prime Minister (Howard) almost as much as they hate Bush). With the both of us looking at her, she said, "If Bush were president, we wouldn't listen to what other countries said." I nearly fell over in my chair, and Daniel, laughing, remarked, "That's probably true, but he wouldn't listen to his own people, either."
I got a kick out of this.
Finally, falling into the deepest food-and-sleep-deprived coma of my life, I slept until about 6 PM, was immediately forced to take another walk around the beautiful city. Not only that, but I got a first-hand tour of the "security fence" separating the town of Elkanah with the neighboring Palestinian village. I should note that by "neighboring", I mean that there is one point in the "fence" that they had to resort to using the huge, 25 foot tall concrete barriers, to separate the two towns, because, if they weren't there, you could literally reach out the window of the Israeli house and touch the Palestinian house. This was the REAL barrier, too---not like the puny fence near the family I stayed with in Jerusalem---it had barbed wire on top, a huge ditch on the Palestinian side (to prevent a car from ramming through the fence), and a dirt road on the Israeli side for partrols, along with the huge concrete blocks where necessary. When I asked about the possiblity of tunneling (like in the Gaza incident) they noted that the hills were made out of a very stiff rock, that would be nearly impossible to tunnel through without serious dynamite, which would not be too useful for any type of secrecy.
Anyway, as Shabbat ended, we ate the traditional 3rd Meal (I gained like 40 pounds, by the way), and then Shabbat was over. After a lot of haggling, Shimrit convinced Daniel that we should all go play billiards. Since Daniel and I needed to get back to the Yeshiva that night (since we had classes in the morning), he found a friend who was driving from Jerusalem to Efrat, so that we could stay out a bit later than the usual last bus (midnight). We thought she was taking us to a billiards place in Jerusalem, but, instead, she took us to Tel Aviv. Which was fine. We played some pool, and watched the Brazil vs. France World Cup game (a freaking steal by France, who upset the very, very heavily favored Brazilian team). We took the last bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem (and watched an episode of "American Dad", which, along with "The Daily Show", Daniel has developed a taste for).
We got to Jerusalem, ate some pizza, and then wandered around trying to kill time before Daniel's friend was suppossed to meet us. We ran into a friend of Daniel's (some British kid who had broken glasses, no shoes, skraggly hair, and a beard coming off of his chin that must have been about 8 inches long). I forgot his name, but he was wandering around with some other British guy, some Jewish guy from Dallas who was wasted, and a kid from Duke who later revealed that he had sued his father in the state of North Carolina for the right to be Jewish.
I am just going to wrap it up here. Our ride finally came, and we got back to Efrat around 4 in the morning. I need to go to sleep now, too. Anyway, I was suppossed to be going to Ben Gurion International Airport tomorrow morning to welcome my good friend Sam Korb as a new "oleh" (someone becoming a citizen of Israel) to the country, but, because my foot is messed up, it appears that I am going to need to miss out on the fun.
Hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July, and that the weather is half as good there as it is here.
Best,
Michael
I have some free time to write now that I sprained my ankle. At least I hope it is only sprained.
I left off when I met the 3 kids (Daniel, the Austrailian; Brad, the UPenn kid; and Elana, Daniel's friend) in front of the Jaffa Gate, along with my friend Matt Cons. We walked from the Old City to "Machane Yehuda" (also known as "the Shuk", or market), which is a huge, sprawling market with fresh vegtables, fish, baked goods, sweets, clothing....you name it. It is a series of kiosks situated on two sides of a walkway, with many parallel walkways, and lots of twists and turns. It is always crowded with people from every walk of Jerusalem life: Chasidic Jews, Fransican Monks, Right-Wing Settler Jews, tourists....everyone yelling, shoving, haggling over anything and everything. Since the market is near the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods in Jerusalem, most of the stuff is kosher. Including the Indian Restraunt ("Chadra") that is hidden in a tiny nook in the middle of the market.
This place was amazing. It is run by about 5 people who are all the same (Israelis who look like they spent at least 3 years in India on serious drugs---complete with dreadlocks and spaced-out gazes), and the food is all vegetarian, and cooked from things that they buy in the market that surrounds the restaurant. Basically, for lunch we payed 25 shekels ($5.25), and we got a huge tray of sauses, naan bread, vegetable curries.....and it was all-you-can-eat, so if you finish the tray, they fill it back up.
The best part of it is, they set up the tables outside the little hole in the wall they call the restaurant, and so we get to "people watch" around the Shuk while enjoying our (amazing) Indian food. This place has apparently become a weekly tradition for my friend Daniel, who not only brought the four of us along, but was met up by 5 other Austrailian friends of his who were in Jerusalem (probably a good percentage of the Aussie expatriot community in Israel). The whole experience was hilarious---I could barely understand what these Austrailians were saying, the spaced-out hippie waitress kept messing up our order, crazy Jews were arguing over the funniest things at the different booths around us, and I was (as usual) making a huge mess with all of the food.
Eventually, as most meals end with me, I decided to get a haircut (alright---that's NOT normal, but it really had gotten out of control). The actual inspiration was that the kiosk to the immediate right of the Indian restaurant was a barber. When I was (finally) done with my food, I walked over, and, in the worst Hebrew ever, asked if if could get a trim. The guy gave me a funny look, and then looked around, and---realizing I wasn't a native Hebrew speaker---decided he would pantomime to me that he was CLOSED (note: even though my Hebrew was bad, he could have just said in Hebrew, "No. We are closed." But, as is the normal Israeli attitude toward Americans, he decided he would treat me like a child). Still feeling confident after 3 trays of delicious Indian food, I convinced myself that, if there is one barbershop in this market, there must be at least one more that isn't closing right now.
After about a 3 minute walk, I did, indeed, find an open barbershop. For 35 shekels ($7.30), the guy pretty much shaved my head. It actually looked pretty good, besides the fact that he didn't even wipe all the hair off of my face before he threw me out of his chair for the next customer. Satisfied, I met up with the group once more (which had dwindled down to Daniel and Brad, since everyone else was off to their respective Shabbat destinations), and we headed for the Central Bus Station, where Daniel was taking me to some family's house for Shabbat, and Brad was catching a ride back to the Yeshiva.
Let me remind you of what was going on in Gaza, as well as the fact that the Rabbi at our Yeshiva had spent 12 minutes lecturing us the day before about NOT TAKING RIDES WITH PEOPLE YOU DON'T KNOW. Now, to an American, this seems logical: hitchhiking is just plain stupid in America, land of crazies and lord-knows what else. But to an Australian Oleh, who had spent the last year in Israel, you might as well have told him to stop breathing---that is HOW he travels.
That said, I convinced him that we should take the bus to Elkanah, our destination for the Sabbath. After a lot of back and forth, he finally relented, and we got the bus that I thought would take us there. After making my ritual call home (as I do every Friday), I quickly fell asleep. About 20 minutes later, Danial wakes me up and tells me this is our stop. We get off....at a highway junction in the middle of nowhere. I ask him, "Where is their house?" half joking, half wondering how long I am going to need to shlep the huge backpack I am carrying. He says (with his Aussie twang), "Oh, you know! We-ah jus walkin' over to theh tremping (Isreali word for hitchhike) spot." I politely reminded him of my desire to NOT "tremp", and his response was, "Oh. No worries. The dividin' fence cuts the highway off a few miles down, so no A-rabs can get here anyway."
I should first of all note that I was told Elkanah (our destination) was a "suburb of Petach Tikvah" (which is a suburb of Tel Aviv). Though this was not a lie, I had no idea of tiny the distance from the West Bank to Tel Aviv was, and, although on a clear day you can see the Mediterranean from the hilltops of Elkanah, it is squarely behind the "Green Line," though (thankfully) on the "right" side of the new security fence.
Anyway, completely furious at this kid for dragging me into some awful situcation, we very quickly got a ride from a very polite Israeli couple going to Elkana for Shabbat as well, bought some flowers at the point we were dropped off in front of the city (where we became very impressed at ourselves for figuring out that if we bought two bunches of the monochromatic flower bunches, we could mix them up to make a much nicer array of flowers. We chose red and yellow, and very quickly pointed this out to the family when we arrived at their house, ie that we had mixed them up ourselves...).
Still a bit mad at this kid, we showed up at the house (the name on the door said "Ashoel's" in Hebrew, but I later found out it was pronouned with Yeminite pronunciation, which sounded something like "Ashwa'al's"). The family was an amazingly welcoming group of Yemini Jews, of the more rightwing, religious bent. Daniel knew the family because the oldest daughter, Shimrit, had done her Israeli Civil Service as a "messenger" for Israel in Austrailia, where she had helped set up Zionist Youth groups. She apparently also served some time in Atlanta, but he English was a very silly mix of Australian and Israeli accents. It actually sounded a little like the way Indian people sound when they are from India and talk with a (sort of) English accent. Her younger sister, Sharon (pronouned like the Prime Minister, not the American way), had done her time in Toronto, so she, too, knew English (sort of). The rest of the family included their father, mother, the oldest (and only) brother, who was married, and two younter sisters, ALL of whom live in the same house, and NONE of whom spoke more than two words of English.
Which should have been alright, except understanding Hebrew, and understanding the way that native Israelis speak in their house are completely different things. So basically Danial, Shimrit, and Sharon acted as translators for bulk of the weekend. Which was absolutely amazing. This family was a very stereotypical (at least in my mind) Israeli family, complete with hilarious political arguments over the dinner and lunch table that I understood about 1/10th of. I could go on....but I will try to just sum up the weekend as best I can.
Friday night dinner lasted until about midnight (note: I was still very, very tired from not sleeping the night before, so....this was a bit difficult). I could go on talking about how amazing this Yemini food was (and the amazing amounts of it), but it would just make all of you so jealous. So I will just refrain.
I was all ready to go to bed, when Shimrit proposed we go for a walk around town (pretty much what all Israelis do on Shabbat), and we make the grueling hike up and down the town's hills. When we were getting back to their house at around 1:15 in the morning, half of the town must have still been outside: the older men and women shuffling around, the younger married couples shmoozing about the latest town gossip, and all of the kids forming little circles at different strategic points, close-to or far-away from the appropriate cliques.
I was woken up at 7 AM for the early minyan (oh sleep!), which I sat zombie-eyed through, and then went back to the house to wait around until lunch was ready to be served. Lunch lasted three hours, was even more delicious than the night before, and included a hilarious episode of the family yelling at each other in frantic Hebrew over the LEVEL of Olmert's (the Israeli Prime Minister) incompetance, as well as complaints regarding the fact that, if Israel were allowed to behave like the US (viz. Iraq), that there would be no Palestinian issue. The best part of the entire thing was when Sharon remarked, "I wish George Bush was our President." At which point I spit out the food that was in my mouth, and Daniel's mouth fell open (in case you didn't realize, Aussies apparently all dislike their own Prime Minister (Howard) almost as much as they hate Bush). With the both of us looking at her, she said, "If Bush were president, we wouldn't listen to what other countries said." I nearly fell over in my chair, and Daniel, laughing, remarked, "That's probably true, but he wouldn't listen to his own people, either."
I got a kick out of this.
Finally, falling into the deepest food-and-sleep-deprived coma of my life, I slept until about 6 PM, was immediately forced to take another walk around the beautiful city. Not only that, but I got a first-hand tour of the "security fence" separating the town of Elkanah with the neighboring Palestinian village. I should note that by "neighboring", I mean that there is one point in the "fence" that they had to resort to using the huge, 25 foot tall concrete barriers, to separate the two towns, because, if they weren't there, you could literally reach out the window of the Israeli house and touch the Palestinian house. This was the REAL barrier, too---not like the puny fence near the family I stayed with in Jerusalem---it had barbed wire on top, a huge ditch on the Palestinian side (to prevent a car from ramming through the fence), and a dirt road on the Israeli side for partrols, along with the huge concrete blocks where necessary. When I asked about the possiblity of tunneling (like in the Gaza incident) they noted that the hills were made out of a very stiff rock, that would be nearly impossible to tunnel through without serious dynamite, which would not be too useful for any type of secrecy.
Anyway, as Shabbat ended, we ate the traditional 3rd Meal (I gained like 40 pounds, by the way), and then Shabbat was over. After a lot of haggling, Shimrit convinced Daniel that we should all go play billiards. Since Daniel and I needed to get back to the Yeshiva that night (since we had classes in the morning), he found a friend who was driving from Jerusalem to Efrat, so that we could stay out a bit later than the usual last bus (midnight). We thought she was taking us to a billiards place in Jerusalem, but, instead, she took us to Tel Aviv. Which was fine. We played some pool, and watched the Brazil vs. France World Cup game (a freaking steal by France, who upset the very, very heavily favored Brazilian team). We took the last bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem (and watched an episode of "American Dad", which, along with "The Daily Show", Daniel has developed a taste for).
We got to Jerusalem, ate some pizza, and then wandered around trying to kill time before Daniel's friend was suppossed to meet us. We ran into a friend of Daniel's (some British kid who had broken glasses, no shoes, skraggly hair, and a beard coming off of his chin that must have been about 8 inches long). I forgot his name, but he was wandering around with some other British guy, some Jewish guy from Dallas who was wasted, and a kid from Duke who later revealed that he had sued his father in the state of North Carolina for the right to be Jewish.
I am just going to wrap it up here. Our ride finally came, and we got back to Efrat around 4 in the morning. I need to go to sleep now, too. Anyway, I was suppossed to be going to Ben Gurion International Airport tomorrow morning to welcome my good friend Sam Korb as a new "oleh" (someone becoming a citizen of Israel) to the country, but, because my foot is messed up, it appears that I am going to need to miss out on the fun.
Hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July, and that the weather is half as good there as it is here.
Best,
Michael
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Last Week in Israel (Part 1)
Yeah, it has been quite a while since I actually gave an update of what is going on here in Israel. I am sure that most of you that don't live under a rock know about the offensive in Gaza ("Operation Desert Rain"). I just want to start off by repeating that I am very safe here, and that while there have been small changes in normal day-to-day life (in the form of adding extra prayers for the captured soldier, to having to change my plans for Shabbat due to my friend not being given the weekend off from his base), everything else has stayed the same, and there is no reason to be any more worried about my well-being then you are used to.
Anyway, I will only give a very quick summary of last weekend (June 21st-23rd), since the weekend that just passed is fresh in my mind, and I want to share it as quickly as possible.
On Thursday afternoon, I left Efrat early in order to catch the 5 PM kickoff time for the US-Ghana World Cup game, which ended in disappointment (US' elmination from the tournament). I met up with my good friend Matt Cons (fellow MIT student, AEPi Brother), who is studying at a Yeshiva in Jerusalem called Ohr Sameyach. After watching the game, and then drowning our sorrows in a few more beers, we went and drowned our sorrows in some wonderful Shwarma off Ben Yehudah street.
Afterwards, we met up with fellow MIT student Chaim Kutnicki, who is working at the Technion (in Haifa) for the summer. After wandering around downtown Jerusalem for a while, we split with them, to go meet up with even MORE MIT students: Sam Korb and Josh Sklarsky, both of whom were town for the Meeting of the Elders o...I mean, the World Zionist Congress, as official delegates. We met them at the penultimate American bar in Jerusalem, Mike's Place, where they were showing the Brazil v. Japan game (4-1 defeat by the Brazilians, naturally). Having no other place to stay, and having (somewhat intetionally) missed the last bus back to Efrat, I rudely invited myeslf to stay in Sam's hotel room (at the Hotel Renissance), which he gratiously allowed, and was quite a nice break from sleeping on the slabs of wood we call beds here at the Yeshiva.
The next day, we walked clear across the city of Jerusalem, to get to Emek Refaim, to return to the delicious "Coffeeshop" I talked about a few weeks ago. On the way, we got to see the Hebrew University campus, the hip (?) neighborhood of Rehovot, and lots of Israelis laughing at how tired we looked from a stroll across the city. We had lunch, took a taxi back to the hotel, and parted ways (note: Sam was returning to America for about a week, only to fly BACK to Israel to make Aliyah this coming Thursday! Mazal Tov!).
I met up with my friend Herschel at the bus station, and we got the last bus back to Efrat before Shabbat. Shabbat was IN the Yeshiva last week, and there is not too much to say about it. A Rabbi connected with the Yeshiva, Rabbi Fink, gave various words of wisdom over the course of the day. I slept a lot.
That's about it for last week. I will not skip to this most recently passed Thursday.
After a grueling game of soccer, I got a ride with one of the Rabbinical students and his wife into Jerusalem, around 8 PM. After getting in, I had 15 minutes to kill before meeting up with my friend Rachel Lando, so I bought a beer and a pack of gum, and sat down in the middle of a promenade, and took in the cool Jerusalem night, filled with people relaxing on what is basically a weekend night. Rachel is studying at Pardes, which is a very open-minded, traditional instituation in Jerusalem dedicated to teaching religious Jewish texts in a more academic manner. Rachel is studying there (I think) as part of her Jewish Studies major at Wellesley, or maybe just because she is interested....but I think it's for credit.
Anyway, she met me at the center of Emek Refaim (I really like this street, if you haven't noticed), and we went back to her apartment. She is renting a room in an aparment with two Orthodox girls, neither of whom seems to be actually staying there this summer: one of them was moving out for the summer on Thursday, and the other one apparently is never there anyway. Adding to that that the apartment is well-located, and, compared to the trailer I'm currently living in, is a luxurious manision, I would say that Rachel has got a pretty good deal. There is also a display case in her aparment displaying the largest number of shot glasses I have ever seen in one place: there were probably about 200 different shot glasses in the display case, which was quite confusing to me because I couldn't help but think: who is doing this much drinking in this apartment? And: who needs more than two shot glasses, one for you and your friend to say a l'chaim?
Anyway, a little buzzed from the gross Israeli beer I had drank on the curb, I sat and chated with Rachel's boyfriend, my good friend Eitan Reich, who is currently holed up in provincial San Fransisco, working for some company called Google (I hear they're some sort of internet company). He told me all about the free food, the free movies (to see "An Inconvienient Truth"....which would NEED to be free for me to see), and the free trips to theme parks (all during working hours, no less) that his job has provided for him, which I told him was nothing compared to the schwarma he wasn't eating there (and I AM eating here). We then talked about his future trip to Israel (at the end of July), and what we were planning on doing when he came (besides eat schwarma). Alright, enough about our internet conversation.
Rachel and I walked all the way (20 min) from her apartment to Kikar Tzion (Zion Square), where we met up with Matt Cons (see above), and Rachel and I greeted with the official "MATTT COOOOOONS" yell that...is had become a rather silly tradition at our fraternity. We were all very hungry, so after wandering around the various food places available in downtown Jerusalem (that range from a baked potato restaurant, to a hippie/Vegetarian place, to Burger King, to schwarma, to sushi....all of it kosher), we finally settled on the famous "Burgers Bar", which has some wonderfully large hamburgers and french fries. Two of Rachel's friends from Wellesley, Hannaheller and Yael, joined us at the Burger Bar and a little while later, we left....
...only to run into a huge posse of AEPi guys (including one Joel Miller, former AEPi Northeast Consultant, ie the guy who annoyed me all the time while I was President). Well, it wasn't exactly a run in with them---I had found out that Joel would be there a few weeks ago, had called him, and arranged to meet him that night. But still, Jerusalem is the kind of place were you can run into all of the people you don't really expect to run into, and so I was probably trying to exaggerate this effect. My sincere apologizes, but I hope you get the point.
Me, Matt Cons, Joel, Rachel, her two friends, and a posse of about 12 very "fratty" looking guys made our way over to the trendier side of Jerusalem (read: where you can hang out with Isrealis, and not just American tourists...like ourselves), and got a table, a round of beers, and about 5 hookahs for all of us.
Things get hazy around this point, but I remember lecturing the "new Joel" (a guy named Adam) about what needs to happen around our house to make it a better place in the years to come. I think I also lectured some guys about spending time at the "Aish" Yeshiva (because they brainwash people...which is true), and I bored Rachel with a sortment of topics that I am sure she couldn't have cared less about. Also, at some point, the AEPi guys called up their friend, "Rabbi Sam" to come hang out with us. "Rabbi Sam" turned out to be a girl that Rachel knew from Sunday School in Miami, who was studying to be a Reform Rabbi in Jerusalem. Another instance of this "Jerusalem Syndrome" (not to be confused with the actual, clinical "Jerusalem Syndrome", where people believe themselves to be actual or reincarnations of characters from the Bible).
Anyway, once again, I did not have a place to stay. I had orginally thought I would be able to sleep on the couch at Rachel's luxurious apartment, but her roomates were not having it (ie a boy on their couch). So I had to appeal to Joel to let me stay at his place, which he assented to, only to later remember that the Rabbi in charge of their trip had forbid the bringing of guests to where they were staying (it's a long story why there was a Rabbi involved here....but I will spare you the details). After a lot of drunk arguing between the lot of them, they decided that there would be no problem with me staying at their place (after all, they had an extra bed), but that I would have to be awake and out of the place by 7 AM. I should note that this arguing was taking place at about 3 AM. Realizing that, as a beggar, I could not also be a chooser, I thanked them very much, and followed them back to the Old City, amid talks of fraternity politics and whatever else it is the frat guys talk about.
They were staying in what is called "The Diaspora Yeshiva", which is a thinly veiled outpost of Aish HaTorah (the organization I earlier noted for their brainwashing, a comment which I stand by), and it was literally situated in the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. Though it was beautiful there, it was rather spartan, but I very quickly passed out.
True to my word, I woke up a few hours later, thanked Joel for the accomodations, and made my way to the Western Wall, the most obvious place to go find a minyan at 7 in the morning. Not fully awake, wandered around in circles for a while, and somehow found myself outside of the Old City walls, where there were about 10 different police squads getting in formation for the day: I guess there was increased security around the city due to the operation in Gaza. The "increased security" (as I later saw it) seemed to consist of having a huge number of police people standing around EVERYWHERE YOU WENT, as well as a "checkpoint" into the city where they were interrogating people on the basis of how dark their skin was, which really didn't seem to be too effective, but....they are the pros.
I prayed at the Western Wall, and then found a little cafe and had some breakfast. Having made plans to meet my friend from the Yeshiva who had invited me to accompany him to a friends house for Shabbat, I had some time to kill, so I sat by the Jaffa Gate and took in the sites, and, more importantly, the people: Hasidic Jews, non-Hasidic-religious Jews, non-relgious Jews, non-relgious Muslims, somewhat-religious Muslims, Israeli police, Israeli soldiers, all of different colors and stripes. Also, I ran into none other than Matt Cons at the gate, who was going to enjoy the Jerusalem morning, only to be pulled aside by me.
After talking for a while, my friends showed up at the gate, too: there was Daniel, the Austrailian who recently made Aliyah, and with whom I was tagging along with for Shabbat, Brad, another kid from the Yeshiva who studies at UPenn the rest of the year, and a girl named Elana, who was from Chicago and was friends with Daniel. They had just been to the "Arab Shuk" or Arab market in the Old City, where Daniel, in an attempt to bridge the cultural divide between Austrailians and Arabs, had taken to drinking coffee every Friday morning.
...and I will need to finish this later. Sorry to leave you hanging, but I need to go do some MCAT studying. Hoepfully, I will finish this tomorrow.
Best,
Michael
Yeah, it has been quite a while since I actually gave an update of what is going on here in Israel. I am sure that most of you that don't live under a rock know about the offensive in Gaza ("Operation Desert Rain"). I just want to start off by repeating that I am very safe here, and that while there have been small changes in normal day-to-day life (in the form of adding extra prayers for the captured soldier, to having to change my plans for Shabbat due to my friend not being given the weekend off from his base), everything else has stayed the same, and there is no reason to be any more worried about my well-being then you are used to.
Anyway, I will only give a very quick summary of last weekend (June 21st-23rd), since the weekend that just passed is fresh in my mind, and I want to share it as quickly as possible.
On Thursday afternoon, I left Efrat early in order to catch the 5 PM kickoff time for the US-Ghana World Cup game, which ended in disappointment (US' elmination from the tournament). I met up with my good friend Matt Cons (fellow MIT student, AEPi Brother), who is studying at a Yeshiva in Jerusalem called Ohr Sameyach. After watching the game, and then drowning our sorrows in a few more beers, we went and drowned our sorrows in some wonderful Shwarma off Ben Yehudah street.
Afterwards, we met up with fellow MIT student Chaim Kutnicki, who is working at the Technion (in Haifa) for the summer. After wandering around downtown Jerusalem for a while, we split with them, to go meet up with even MORE MIT students: Sam Korb and Josh Sklarsky, both of whom were town for the Meeting of the Elders o...I mean, the World Zionist Congress, as official delegates. We met them at the penultimate American bar in Jerusalem, Mike's Place, where they were showing the Brazil v. Japan game (4-1 defeat by the Brazilians, naturally). Having no other place to stay, and having (somewhat intetionally) missed the last bus back to Efrat, I rudely invited myeslf to stay in Sam's hotel room (at the Hotel Renissance), which he gratiously allowed, and was quite a nice break from sleeping on the slabs of wood we call beds here at the Yeshiva.
The next day, we walked clear across the city of Jerusalem, to get to Emek Refaim, to return to the delicious "Coffeeshop" I talked about a few weeks ago. On the way, we got to see the Hebrew University campus, the hip (?) neighborhood of Rehovot, and lots of Israelis laughing at how tired we looked from a stroll across the city. We had lunch, took a taxi back to the hotel, and parted ways (note: Sam was returning to America for about a week, only to fly BACK to Israel to make Aliyah this coming Thursday! Mazal Tov!).
I met up with my friend Herschel at the bus station, and we got the last bus back to Efrat before Shabbat. Shabbat was IN the Yeshiva last week, and there is not too much to say about it. A Rabbi connected with the Yeshiva, Rabbi Fink, gave various words of wisdom over the course of the day. I slept a lot.
That's about it for last week. I will not skip to this most recently passed Thursday.
After a grueling game of soccer, I got a ride with one of the Rabbinical students and his wife into Jerusalem, around 8 PM. After getting in, I had 15 minutes to kill before meeting up with my friend Rachel Lando, so I bought a beer and a pack of gum, and sat down in the middle of a promenade, and took in the cool Jerusalem night, filled with people relaxing on what is basically a weekend night. Rachel is studying at Pardes, which is a very open-minded, traditional instituation in Jerusalem dedicated to teaching religious Jewish texts in a more academic manner. Rachel is studying there (I think) as part of her Jewish Studies major at Wellesley, or maybe just because she is interested....but I think it's for credit.
Anyway, she met me at the center of Emek Refaim (I really like this street, if you haven't noticed), and we went back to her apartment. She is renting a room in an aparment with two Orthodox girls, neither of whom seems to be actually staying there this summer: one of them was moving out for the summer on Thursday, and the other one apparently is never there anyway. Adding to that that the apartment is well-located, and, compared to the trailer I'm currently living in, is a luxurious manision, I would say that Rachel has got a pretty good deal. There is also a display case in her aparment displaying the largest number of shot glasses I have ever seen in one place: there were probably about 200 different shot glasses in the display case, which was quite confusing to me because I couldn't help but think: who is doing this much drinking in this apartment? And: who needs more than two shot glasses, one for you and your friend to say a l'chaim?
Anyway, a little buzzed from the gross Israeli beer I had drank on the curb, I sat and chated with Rachel's boyfriend, my good friend Eitan Reich, who is currently holed up in provincial San Fransisco, working for some company called Google (I hear they're some sort of internet company). He told me all about the free food, the free movies (to see "An Inconvienient Truth"....which would NEED to be free for me to see), and the free trips to theme parks (all during working hours, no less) that his job has provided for him, which I told him was nothing compared to the schwarma he wasn't eating there (and I AM eating here). We then talked about his future trip to Israel (at the end of July), and what we were planning on doing when he came (besides eat schwarma). Alright, enough about our internet conversation.
Rachel and I walked all the way (20 min) from her apartment to Kikar Tzion (Zion Square), where we met up with Matt Cons (see above), and Rachel and I greeted with the official "MATTT COOOOOONS" yell that...is had become a rather silly tradition at our fraternity. We were all very hungry, so after wandering around the various food places available in downtown Jerusalem (that range from a baked potato restaurant, to a hippie/Vegetarian place, to Burger King, to schwarma, to sushi....all of it kosher), we finally settled on the famous "Burgers Bar", which has some wonderfully large hamburgers and french fries. Two of Rachel's friends from Wellesley, Hannaheller and Yael, joined us at the Burger Bar and a little while later, we left....
...only to run into a huge posse of AEPi guys (including one Joel Miller, former AEPi Northeast Consultant, ie the guy who annoyed me all the time while I was President). Well, it wasn't exactly a run in with them---I had found out that Joel would be there a few weeks ago, had called him, and arranged to meet him that night. But still, Jerusalem is the kind of place were you can run into all of the people you don't really expect to run into, and so I was probably trying to exaggerate this effect. My sincere apologizes, but I hope you get the point.
Me, Matt Cons, Joel, Rachel, her two friends, and a posse of about 12 very "fratty" looking guys made our way over to the trendier side of Jerusalem (read: where you can hang out with Isrealis, and not just American tourists...like ourselves), and got a table, a round of beers, and about 5 hookahs for all of us.
Things get hazy around this point, but I remember lecturing the "new Joel" (a guy named Adam) about what needs to happen around our house to make it a better place in the years to come. I think I also lectured some guys about spending time at the "Aish" Yeshiva (because they brainwash people...which is true), and I bored Rachel with a sortment of topics that I am sure she couldn't have cared less about. Also, at some point, the AEPi guys called up their friend, "Rabbi Sam" to come hang out with us. "Rabbi Sam" turned out to be a girl that Rachel knew from Sunday School in Miami, who was studying to be a Reform Rabbi in Jerusalem. Another instance of this "Jerusalem Syndrome" (not to be confused with the actual, clinical "Jerusalem Syndrome", where people believe themselves to be actual or reincarnations of characters from the Bible).
Anyway, once again, I did not have a place to stay. I had orginally thought I would be able to sleep on the couch at Rachel's luxurious apartment, but her roomates were not having it (ie a boy on their couch). So I had to appeal to Joel to let me stay at his place, which he assented to, only to later remember that the Rabbi in charge of their trip had forbid the bringing of guests to where they were staying (it's a long story why there was a Rabbi involved here....but I will spare you the details). After a lot of drunk arguing between the lot of them, they decided that there would be no problem with me staying at their place (after all, they had an extra bed), but that I would have to be awake and out of the place by 7 AM. I should note that this arguing was taking place at about 3 AM. Realizing that, as a beggar, I could not also be a chooser, I thanked them very much, and followed them back to the Old City, amid talks of fraternity politics and whatever else it is the frat guys talk about.
They were staying in what is called "The Diaspora Yeshiva", which is a thinly veiled outpost of Aish HaTorah (the organization I earlier noted for their brainwashing, a comment which I stand by), and it was literally situated in the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. Though it was beautiful there, it was rather spartan, but I very quickly passed out.
True to my word, I woke up a few hours later, thanked Joel for the accomodations, and made my way to the Western Wall, the most obvious place to go find a minyan at 7 in the morning. Not fully awake, wandered around in circles for a while, and somehow found myself outside of the Old City walls, where there were about 10 different police squads getting in formation for the day: I guess there was increased security around the city due to the operation in Gaza. The "increased security" (as I later saw it) seemed to consist of having a huge number of police people standing around EVERYWHERE YOU WENT, as well as a "checkpoint" into the city where they were interrogating people on the basis of how dark their skin was, which really didn't seem to be too effective, but....they are the pros.
I prayed at the Western Wall, and then found a little cafe and had some breakfast. Having made plans to meet my friend from the Yeshiva who had invited me to accompany him to a friends house for Shabbat, I had some time to kill, so I sat by the Jaffa Gate and took in the sites, and, more importantly, the people: Hasidic Jews, non-Hasidic-religious Jews, non-relgious Jews, non-relgious Muslims, somewhat-religious Muslims, Israeli police, Israeli soldiers, all of different colors and stripes. Also, I ran into none other than Matt Cons at the gate, who was going to enjoy the Jerusalem morning, only to be pulled aside by me.
After talking for a while, my friends showed up at the gate, too: there was Daniel, the Austrailian who recently made Aliyah, and with whom I was tagging along with for Shabbat, Brad, another kid from the Yeshiva who studies at UPenn the rest of the year, and a girl named Elana, who was from Chicago and was friends with Daniel. They had just been to the "Arab Shuk" or Arab market in the Old City, where Daniel, in an attempt to bridge the cultural divide between Austrailians and Arabs, had taken to drinking coffee every Friday morning.
...and I will need to finish this later. Sorry to leave you hanging, but I need to go do some MCAT studying. Hoepfully, I will finish this tomorrow.
Best,
Michael
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Pictures from Israel (First of Many)
These two Yids smiled for the picture, but that is not the only reason I included this. It reminds me of everything in Bnai Brak.
This is during the Chupah. If you look close enough, you can see Tzvi chanting, and the thing coming out of the right side of the picture is the hollywood movie camera I was talking about. I wish I had gotten a better picture of this thing. It was hilarious.
I don't know exactly what it is about this photo, but I like it a lot. It might be that it captures something about the wedding, but it could also be the gold hue that is vaguely reminiscient of Jerusalem.
This is what the dancefloor at the wedding looked like. I would say that, being there, it had equal parts ecstasy and darkness. And lots of energy.
That's me and Mr. Uzan. And a beer.
That's all for now. I'll put up more later.
Michael
These two Yids smiled for the picture, but that is not the only reason I included this. It reminds me of everything in Bnai Brak.
This is during the Chupah. If you look close enough, you can see Tzvi chanting, and the thing coming out of the right side of the picture is the hollywood movie camera I was talking about. I wish I had gotten a better picture of this thing. It was hilarious.
I don't know exactly what it is about this photo, but I like it a lot. It might be that it captures something about the wedding, but it could also be the gold hue that is vaguely reminiscient of Jerusalem.
This is what the dancefloor at the wedding looked like. I would say that, being there, it had equal parts ecstasy and darkness. And lots of energy.
That's me and Mr. Uzan. And a beer.
That's all for now. I'll put up more later.
Michael
Monday, June 26, 2006
Wedding---Part III
Alright, I am *really* going to try to finish this now. There are so many other things to write about, so....
I Left off at Mr. Uzan lecturing me about moderation, in English that he hadn't used in probably 7 or 8 years (at one point, his wife came over to say hello, and remarked, "Oh no! Not in English!"...I am not sure whether she was disappointed that I still can't speak Hebrew very well, or if the sound of the language brings up bad memories).
All of this was still in front of the Chupah (the wedding canopy). After a while, I had totally given up hope in following which part of the ceremony they were in, though I did catch some of the part of the "hakafot", or the bride walking 7 times around the groom to, apparently, symbolize how the groom is the center of her universe [note: I find this idea absurd]. I was trying to get a look at the bride, but the veil did its job, and, to be honest, I never actually got to see her: as soon as they broke the glass, before everyone could yell "Mazel Tov!", Tzvi and Rechele were wisked off to the "Yichud Room".
What is that? Well...according to Jewish Law, for the wedding to be completely Kosher, it needs to consumated...so to speak. Back in the day, they provided a place with some privacy ("yichud" is hebrew for "alone") in which to do this. I am told that these rooms are no longer used for this function, and that the bride and groom use this time to have a breather, have a few drinks and a few bites to eat before they have to go out again and entertain all of their guests. Of course, since I have not had a marriage myself, this is all hearsay.
For the next 45 min....we ate. Contrary to warnings from my Modern Orthodox friends in Jerusalem, the food was not bad at all...it was really amazing, actually....
Let me stop here and note that, up until this point, there has been nothing very different in my discription of the wedding from other religious Jewish weddings (besides the huge, Hollywood camera constantly blocking my view of the action).
Let me fill in the rest of the story:
I cannot remember if I mentioned it (and I am too lazy to check), but Bnai Brak (the city where the wedding was held) is not only the most relgious city in Israel, but it is also the poorest. Walking around the city after the wedding, I could really see how...slummy...the city seemed: very crowded city blocks, houses with makeshift walls/roofs, dirtiness, etc. I only note this because, although the wedding hall was a veriable diamond in the rough (it was *very* fancy), probably due to poor utilities maintanence in the area, there were "rolling blackouts" all throughout the wedding: every 25 minutes or so, all of the lights in the place would go out, the band's music would stop (besides the drummer and horns, for obvious reasons), and, most importantly, the air conditioning would shut down.
This is the most important because, even though the weather in Efrat is basically a perfect 67-80 every night/day, on Israel's Mediterranian coast (where Bnai Brak is located), it is about 95 there during the day, and pretty hot even at night. And in a room full of about 400 people, air conditioning matters.
Needless to say, after the food had been served, I headed for the Bar to see what they had in terms of cold beverages, and found Sam and Yisroel there with some Goldstar's ("The Beer the Chosen People Choose"). I joined in, and some more conversation took place that it would probably be better not to publish here. After a few rounds (and about 3 blackouts), Tzvi was ushered into the wedding hall on the shoulders of dozens of black-suited Yeshiva boys, who only wished they were in his position [note: there seems to be some taboo about recently married religious Jews attending weddings, because it seemed pretty clear that almost none of the guests his age were married, even though it would be safe to assume that many of his friends are, indeed, married]. This is when the serious dancing started. By serious, I mean SERIOUS. Besides your routine groom-on-chair dances, circle dances, fast-circle dances, really-fast-circle dances, really-really-fast-circle dances, there were plenty of the "perfom-for-the-groom-silly" dances, "dress-up-like-a-clown-silly" dances, "weird-pseduo-worshiping-the-groom" dances, dances with fireworks, and the list goes on. Impressively, Tzvi never really stopped dancing, which annoyed me a little since I never got to congratulate him. I mostly watched while the dancing was going on, commenting on the different dances with Sam, and occassionally joining in myself. At one point, Sam was asked to dance, but refused, pointing to the huge semi-automatic weapon slung over his shoulder. After a few more beers, someone prodded him again to join in, and he decided that he would need to get at least one dance in at his cousin's wedding...so he left me holding the standard Israeli issue M16. I will probably never hold a gun that big for the rest of my life (at least I hope I never have to).
(By the way, I forgot to mention that the ENTIRE wedding was seperated into male and female sections---even for eating. Though most Orthodox weddings lack mix dancing (and, no, what happens in "Fiddler on the Roof" does not actually happen at any weddings I have been to...I doubt Perchik would be able to fool any modern day Rabbis into dancing with the bride...or that they would take it with as much of a sense of humor as the Rabbi does in the play/movie), it is highly unusual for the eating part of the wedding to be seperate. I honestly think this is silly for many, many reasons, but the biggest two are the following: being at a Jewish event, where there is lots of food and happiness, is really, really awkward without having women there to put the men in their place. Sitting at the table, trying to make conversation...is just really weird without women there. I can't put my finger on it...but....whatever. Also, I feel that having more natural settings for ultra-Orthodox bachlors and bachlorettes to meet would not be a bad thing at all. Clearly, they feel that it is.)
Oy. Rather than spend countless more hours describing the wedding in an effort to convince you that this wedding was stranger than anything I will probably ever attend (besides, I imagine, how strange my own wedding will be...), I will try to wrap it up in a few more paragraphs.
The dancing DID NOT STOP, even when most of the guests were beginning to leave. Finally, Shawn emerged from the black mob that was the dance floor, and informed me that we had 12 minutes to get to another bus stop across town that would take us back to the Yeshiva. We hailed a cab, and got there just in time.
The busride back! Oh my...if you can imagine how funny the busride there, try to imagine what it was like to be on the same bus with about 80 WASTED Yeshiva students. As I sat down (next to a kid from Johannesburg, who was not impressed with my advetures in his own country that I regaled him with later), the guy sitting behind me was this British Rabbi (very, very drunk), who started asking me all types of questions. I would certainly classify this guy as a "happy" drunk, as every thing I said to him led to a new blessing on my head, and a few requests for blessing from me ("Your name is Star? You should be as important and bright and close to G-d as the stars in the sky!" and such stuff). I could only handle so much of this, and I passed out after about 10 minutes of this conversation.
Shawn was nice enough to let me stay at his Yeshiva for the night, since I missed the last bus back to Efrat.
Whew! That is all. Now I can get back to updating you on the day-to-day accounts of what is going on here. Hope everything is going well back home. Also, please don't worry about all the news items about Israel. Though everyone in the country is praying for the safe return of the kidnapped soldier (Gilad ben Aviva), everything else here is status quo.
Michael
Alright, I am *really* going to try to finish this now. There are so many other things to write about, so....
I Left off at Mr. Uzan lecturing me about moderation, in English that he hadn't used in probably 7 or 8 years (at one point, his wife came over to say hello, and remarked, "Oh no! Not in English!"...I am not sure whether she was disappointed that I still can't speak Hebrew very well, or if the sound of the language brings up bad memories).
All of this was still in front of the Chupah (the wedding canopy). After a while, I had totally given up hope in following which part of the ceremony they were in, though I did catch some of the part of the "hakafot", or the bride walking 7 times around the groom to, apparently, symbolize how the groom is the center of her universe [note: I find this idea absurd]. I was trying to get a look at the bride, but the veil did its job, and, to be honest, I never actually got to see her: as soon as they broke the glass, before everyone could yell "Mazel Tov!", Tzvi and Rechele were wisked off to the "Yichud Room".
What is that? Well...according to Jewish Law, for the wedding to be completely Kosher, it needs to consumated...so to speak. Back in the day, they provided a place with some privacy ("yichud" is hebrew for "alone") in which to do this. I am told that these rooms are no longer used for this function, and that the bride and groom use this time to have a breather, have a few drinks and a few bites to eat before they have to go out again and entertain all of their guests. Of course, since I have not had a marriage myself, this is all hearsay.
For the next 45 min....we ate. Contrary to warnings from my Modern Orthodox friends in Jerusalem, the food was not bad at all...it was really amazing, actually....
Let me stop here and note that, up until this point, there has been nothing very different in my discription of the wedding from other religious Jewish weddings (besides the huge, Hollywood camera constantly blocking my view of the action).
Let me fill in the rest of the story:
I cannot remember if I mentioned it (and I am too lazy to check), but Bnai Brak (the city where the wedding was held) is not only the most relgious city in Israel, but it is also the poorest. Walking around the city after the wedding, I could really see how...slummy...the city seemed: very crowded city blocks, houses with makeshift walls/roofs, dirtiness, etc. I only note this because, although the wedding hall was a veriable diamond in the rough (it was *very* fancy), probably due to poor utilities maintanence in the area, there were "rolling blackouts" all throughout the wedding: every 25 minutes or so, all of the lights in the place would go out, the band's music would stop (besides the drummer and horns, for obvious reasons), and, most importantly, the air conditioning would shut down.
This is the most important because, even though the weather in Efrat is basically a perfect 67-80 every night/day, on Israel's Mediterranian coast (where Bnai Brak is located), it is about 95 there during the day, and pretty hot even at night. And in a room full of about 400 people, air conditioning matters.
Needless to say, after the food had been served, I headed for the Bar to see what they had in terms of cold beverages, and found Sam and Yisroel there with some Goldstar's ("The Beer the Chosen People Choose"). I joined in, and some more conversation took place that it would probably be better not to publish here. After a few rounds (and about 3 blackouts), Tzvi was ushered into the wedding hall on the shoulders of dozens of black-suited Yeshiva boys, who only wished they were in his position [note: there seems to be some taboo about recently married religious Jews attending weddings, because it seemed pretty clear that almost none of the guests his age were married, even though it would be safe to assume that many of his friends are, indeed, married]. This is when the serious dancing started. By serious, I mean SERIOUS. Besides your routine groom-on-chair dances, circle dances, fast-circle dances, really-fast-circle dances, really-really-fast-circle dances, there were plenty of the "perfom-for-the-groom-silly" dances, "dress-up-like-a-clown-silly" dances, "weird-pseduo-worshiping-the-groom" dances, dances with fireworks, and the list goes on. Impressively, Tzvi never really stopped dancing, which annoyed me a little since I never got to congratulate him. I mostly watched while the dancing was going on, commenting on the different dances with Sam, and occassionally joining in myself. At one point, Sam was asked to dance, but refused, pointing to the huge semi-automatic weapon slung over his shoulder. After a few more beers, someone prodded him again to join in, and he decided that he would need to get at least one dance in at his cousin's wedding...so he left me holding the standard Israeli issue M16. I will probably never hold a gun that big for the rest of my life (at least I hope I never have to).
(By the way, I forgot to mention that the ENTIRE wedding was seperated into male and female sections---even for eating. Though most Orthodox weddings lack mix dancing (and, no, what happens in "Fiddler on the Roof" does not actually happen at any weddings I have been to...I doubt Perchik would be able to fool any modern day Rabbis into dancing with the bride...or that they would take it with as much of a sense of humor as the Rabbi does in the play/movie), it is highly unusual for the eating part of the wedding to be seperate. I honestly think this is silly for many, many reasons, but the biggest two are the following: being at a Jewish event, where there is lots of food and happiness, is really, really awkward without having women there to put the men in their place. Sitting at the table, trying to make conversation...is just really weird without women there. I can't put my finger on it...but....whatever. Also, I feel that having more natural settings for ultra-Orthodox bachlors and bachlorettes to meet would not be a bad thing at all. Clearly, they feel that it is.)
Oy. Rather than spend countless more hours describing the wedding in an effort to convince you that this wedding was stranger than anything I will probably ever attend (besides, I imagine, how strange my own wedding will be...), I will try to wrap it up in a few more paragraphs.
The dancing DID NOT STOP, even when most of the guests were beginning to leave. Finally, Shawn emerged from the black mob that was the dance floor, and informed me that we had 12 minutes to get to another bus stop across town that would take us back to the Yeshiva. We hailed a cab, and got there just in time.
The busride back! Oh my...if you can imagine how funny the busride there, try to imagine what it was like to be on the same bus with about 80 WASTED Yeshiva students. As I sat down (next to a kid from Johannesburg, who was not impressed with my advetures in his own country that I regaled him with later), the guy sitting behind me was this British Rabbi (very, very drunk), who started asking me all types of questions. I would certainly classify this guy as a "happy" drunk, as every thing I said to him led to a new blessing on my head, and a few requests for blessing from me ("Your name is Star? You should be as important and bright and close to G-d as the stars in the sky!" and such stuff). I could only handle so much of this, and I passed out after about 10 minutes of this conversation.
Shawn was nice enough to let me stay at his Yeshiva for the night, since I missed the last bus back to Efrat.
Whew! That is all. Now I can get back to updating you on the day-to-day accounts of what is going on here. Hope everything is going well back home. Also, please don't worry about all the news items about Israel. Though everyone in the country is praying for the safe return of the kidnapped soldier (Gilad ben Aviva), everything else here is status quo.
Michael
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Continuation of Last Post...
[Yeah, that post was pretty awful. I hope this one is better.]
According to the wedding invitation, the "chupah" (actual wedding ceremony) started at 6:30, and Jerusalem is about an hour away from Bnai Brak. At around 6:15, I got on a chartered bus in front of the Yeshiva that was actually going to another wedding in Bnai Brak, full of these Yeshiva students. I won't go into too much detail about this bus ride, except to note an interesting event that occured: about 15 minutes into the bus ride, the driver mysteriously pulled to the side of the road. Everyone was yelling (in Hebrew and many, many differnet English accents) to figure out what the deal was. It turned out that he pulled over to let some important Rabbi onto the bus (who's entrance onto the bus caused complete silence, and everyone stood up). After he sat down, some guy shoved a microphone in front of the Rabbi's mouth, and the Rabbi proceeded to give a d'var Torah (sermon) for about 20 minutes, a sermon I could not understand in the least.
Anyway, we finally got to Bnai Brak around 7:30 (remember, about an hour after it was scheduled to start), and, when we finally found the wedding hall, the ceremony still had not begun.
I am going to be honest: there is no way I can completely describe what this wedding was like, even if think you know since you have been to a religious Jewish wedding before; no---this had to be one of the strangest scenes I have come across in a while. The Chupah was taking place in what appeared to be an open-air lobby (open air in that it had no ceiling), but otherwise looked like a regular building. A huge, white canopy was set up in the center of the room. In front of the canopy, all of the guests were amassed in no particular formation, and in the middle of this blog of mostly black suits and hats was a MASSIVE boom and camera---like what you would see on a Hollywood movie set: it was about 30 feet long, and was moving around the room, capturing the "action" of the wedding. Add to that, that among the guests, besides men in all black, most of the women wearing what appeared to be a kind of fake-silk dress that managed to cover everything but their face, and throw in a small clump of guys in white shirts and white kippahs, and a few Israeli soldiers with their M16's slung across their backs, and about 50billion little kids running around, and you start to have a picture of what was going on.
Suddenly, the groom's procession (which really just included my friend, Tzvi, his mother and father, and 15 Rabbis) came out of nowhere and charged to the middle of the room to the Chupah, the Hollywood camera capturing the entire charge. When many of the Rabbis forming this contingent melted away into the rest of the black of the crowd, Tzvi, his parents, and what I will assume were the two Rabbis officiating the wedding were left up under the Chupa, with Tzvi chanting something, which I will completely guess were Tefillim (Psalms), since that seems to be the general rule among the very religious when they are trying to keep focused on certain things.
Soon, a second mass of people erupted out of one of the other doors in this lobby, only this group was almost completely made up of women, many of whom were crying (they were happy...?). At this point, I had already worked my way around the crowd, and had realized that one of the Israeli soldiers was Sam, the groom's cousin and a friend of mine, and added to this crew was the brother of the groom, Yisrael, a 17 year-old rebel of sorts. While all of the above is going on around us, we had the following conversation:
-Me: So, Yisrael, I am embarresed to be asking, but could you tell me what the Bride's name is?
-Yisrael: Umm. No. I don't really know it. [At this point I realize this 17 year old is piss drunk]. Hmmm. No.
-Me: That's funny. Seriously, I was just wondering...
-Yisrael: No. I really can't remember. Maybe it's Sarah or something [note: I found out later it was "Rechele"]...no....Well, I don't even think that Tzvi knows her name.
[We all laugh]
-Sam: So...Yisrael. You're going to be an uncle again in, what, 9, 9-and-a-half months from now?
I will actually stop this conversation at this point to protect him from any embaressment. Needless to say, it was hilarious and completely inappropriate---either for a wedding, or any 17 year old. But Sam and I got a kick out of it. Yisrael left, and I caught up with Sam about his venture in the Israeli army (he is serving in the town of Ramalah (in Palestinian controlled West Bank; it's actually the unofficial capital of the Palestinian Authority). A few days before the wedding, the big news in Israel was that Israel was handing over some weapons to the Palestinians (under Abbas' control), with the "promise" that they wouldn't be used against Israelis. Sam had actually been in the unit that delivered the guns.
At this point, I ran into a huge number of faces that I hadn't seen in over 6 years, some more: a few old middle school teachers (Mr. and Mrs. Uzan, Mr. and Mrs. Edelstien), a father of a friend (Dr. Friedman, father of Bezalel Friedman, who is apparently now doing officer training in Shcem, in the West Bank), and lots of other people from the past. Last time I had been in Israel, I had stayed with the Uzans for about two weeks, and really hadn't communicated with them since. As Mr. Uzan put it (in broken English): "Keeping up with people....it is....you know?...a luxury."
He proceeded to lecture me, making sure that I hadn't gone "overboard" with my religiousness, that I am still close with my family, and that I shouldn't consider moving to Israel (this probably deserves a seperate discussion of its own, which I hope to give in the future). Needless to say, he was pretty much the same.
Well.....I need to get back to doing some work. I will wrap up this wedding description in the next post (hopefully), and then move on to tell of the other interesting things that have happened since then (including the events surrounding watching the America-Ghana soccer game, running into a bunch of MIT kids in Jerusalem, trekking clear across the city with one of them, and Shabbat at my Yeshiva).
Best,
Michael
[Yeah, that post was pretty awful. I hope this one is better.]
According to the wedding invitation, the "chupah" (actual wedding ceremony) started at 6:30, and Jerusalem is about an hour away from Bnai Brak. At around 6:15, I got on a chartered bus in front of the Yeshiva that was actually going to another wedding in Bnai Brak, full of these Yeshiva students. I won't go into too much detail about this bus ride, except to note an interesting event that occured: about 15 minutes into the bus ride, the driver mysteriously pulled to the side of the road. Everyone was yelling (in Hebrew and many, many differnet English accents) to figure out what the deal was. It turned out that he pulled over to let some important Rabbi onto the bus (who's entrance onto the bus caused complete silence, and everyone stood up). After he sat down, some guy shoved a microphone in front of the Rabbi's mouth, and the Rabbi proceeded to give a d'var Torah (sermon) for about 20 minutes, a sermon I could not understand in the least.
Anyway, we finally got to Bnai Brak around 7:30 (remember, about an hour after it was scheduled to start), and, when we finally found the wedding hall, the ceremony still had not begun.
I am going to be honest: there is no way I can completely describe what this wedding was like, even if think you know since you have been to a religious Jewish wedding before; no---this had to be one of the strangest scenes I have come across in a while. The Chupah was taking place in what appeared to be an open-air lobby (open air in that it had no ceiling), but otherwise looked like a regular building. A huge, white canopy was set up in the center of the room. In front of the canopy, all of the guests were amassed in no particular formation, and in the middle of this blog of mostly black suits and hats was a MASSIVE boom and camera---like what you would see on a Hollywood movie set: it was about 30 feet long, and was moving around the room, capturing the "action" of the wedding. Add to that, that among the guests, besides men in all black, most of the women wearing what appeared to be a kind of fake-silk dress that managed to cover everything but their face, and throw in a small clump of guys in white shirts and white kippahs, and a few Israeli soldiers with their M16's slung across their backs, and about 50billion little kids running around, and you start to have a picture of what was going on.
Suddenly, the groom's procession (which really just included my friend, Tzvi, his mother and father, and 15 Rabbis) came out of nowhere and charged to the middle of the room to the Chupah, the Hollywood camera capturing the entire charge. When many of the Rabbis forming this contingent melted away into the rest of the black of the crowd, Tzvi, his parents, and what I will assume were the two Rabbis officiating the wedding were left up under the Chupa, with Tzvi chanting something, which I will completely guess were Tefillim (Psalms), since that seems to be the general rule among the very religious when they are trying to keep focused on certain things.
Soon, a second mass of people erupted out of one of the other doors in this lobby, only this group was almost completely made up of women, many of whom were crying (they were happy...?). At this point, I had already worked my way around the crowd, and had realized that one of the Israeli soldiers was Sam, the groom's cousin and a friend of mine, and added to this crew was the brother of the groom, Yisrael, a 17 year-old rebel of sorts. While all of the above is going on around us, we had the following conversation:
-Me: So, Yisrael, I am embarresed to be asking, but could you tell me what the Bride's name is?
-Yisrael: Umm. No. I don't really know it. [At this point I realize this 17 year old is piss drunk]. Hmmm. No.
-Me: That's funny. Seriously, I was just wondering...
-Yisrael: No. I really can't remember. Maybe it's Sarah or something [note: I found out later it was "Rechele"]...no....Well, I don't even think that Tzvi knows her name.
[We all laugh]
-Sam: So...Yisrael. You're going to be an uncle again in, what, 9, 9-and-a-half months from now?
I will actually stop this conversation at this point to protect him from any embaressment. Needless to say, it was hilarious and completely inappropriate---either for a wedding, or any 17 year old. But Sam and I got a kick out of it. Yisrael left, and I caught up with Sam about his venture in the Israeli army (he is serving in the town of Ramalah (in Palestinian controlled West Bank; it's actually the unofficial capital of the Palestinian Authority). A few days before the wedding, the big news in Israel was that Israel was handing over some weapons to the Palestinians (under Abbas' control), with the "promise" that they wouldn't be used against Israelis. Sam had actually been in the unit that delivered the guns.
At this point, I ran into a huge number of faces that I hadn't seen in over 6 years, some more: a few old middle school teachers (Mr. and Mrs. Uzan, Mr. and Mrs. Edelstien), a father of a friend (Dr. Friedman, father of Bezalel Friedman, who is apparently now doing officer training in Shcem, in the West Bank), and lots of other people from the past. Last time I had been in Israel, I had stayed with the Uzans for about two weeks, and really hadn't communicated with them since. As Mr. Uzan put it (in broken English): "Keeping up with people....it is....you know?...a luxury."
He proceeded to lecture me, making sure that I hadn't gone "overboard" with my religiousness, that I am still close with my family, and that I shouldn't consider moving to Israel (this probably deserves a seperate discussion of its own, which I hope to give in the future). Needless to say, he was pretty much the same.
Well.....I need to get back to doing some work. I will wrap up this wedding description in the next post (hopefully), and then move on to tell of the other interesting things that have happened since then (including the events surrounding watching the America-Ghana soccer game, running into a bunch of MIT kids in Jerusalem, trekking clear across the city with one of them, and Shabbat at my Yeshiva).
Best,
Michael
Friday, June 23, 2006
Bnai Brak Wedding/Apologies/Shabbat Shalom
To everyone who has grown to count on a regular update of this blog, I apologize for the absence of a post in the last few days. I really have been anxious to write about my experience at the wedding (which was wonderful), but have not found enough time to write about it. I am going to start now, and, if I don't finish, you will have to forgive me if I write in installments.
So....the wedding. I guess I can start by repeating the basics: an old friend from middle school, Tzvi Hasten, got engaged to a girl named "Rochele" (though I have still have no idea what her last name is...), who is from the ultra-ultra religious city called "Bnai Brak". When I told some of the more Modern, Liberal religious Jews I have met in Israel where I was going, they made faces and made comments like "I was dressed in a black suit, had a beard...and still felt like a Chilonee (deragatory Hebrew term for a secular Jew)", or "Make sure you eat dinner before you go to the wedding because the food will be awful" or other statements like that.
I can safely say that, although the wedding was unlike much of what I have ever experienced, it wasn't what I expected at all.
First of all, I really was worried that people would be pissed at me for not being dressed in a black suit and black hat (the uniform of ultra-religious Jewish men), or even that I was wearing a shirt that had color in it (again, when I find a computer that can handle it, I will post some pictures from the night, and other times)......alright. I will stop with all these preambles, and get down to what, actually happened.
To get to the wedding, I had arranged ahead of time to meet another friend who I had gone to Middle School with who was going. This kid, Shawn "Adi" Roland, also became religious in Middle School, except he went "all the way" with it, and has been holed up in a Yeshiva in Jerusalem since he graduated from Jewish High School. It's hard to explain exactly what this Yeshiva was like. It is called Chochvei Torah (not to be confused with Yeshivat Chocavei Torah (YCT) in New York, that is known for being a bastion of liberal/Modern Orthodoxy), and walking into the Beis Midrash (the "House of Study", which is basically the really big room full of benches, books, and "bochers" (people studying Torah)) was like walking into 17th Century Poland, except for a cell phone here and there. Nothing else had changed: everyone was dressed THE EXACT same way: white shirts, black pants, buzzed hair cut, and most had glasses. And there were about 120 men sitting in this room, chanting in the melodic sing-song of Talmud study. The room itself was also imposing: it was about three stories high, with very tall windows, an Aron (the place where the Torahs are kept) that was just as tall, and concrete walls that had been white-washed. There was also a smell, but it is the smell of everywhere in Israel that is packed too tightly with people (mostly buses), since, for some reason Israelis don't believe in deoderant.
Damn. I haven't even gotten to the wedding yet, and I need to go shower (and put on deoderant....) before Shabbat starts. I promise to finish this exciting story as soon as I human can.
Until then, I would just like to thank everyone who has written comments or sent me emails---as much fun as I am having here, it is so nice to hear from all of you, and remember that as nice as it is here, I have a place to call home back there.
Shabbat Shalom, and have a wonderful weekend.
Michael
To everyone who has grown to count on a regular update of this blog, I apologize for the absence of a post in the last few days. I really have been anxious to write about my experience at the wedding (which was wonderful), but have not found enough time to write about it. I am going to start now, and, if I don't finish, you will have to forgive me if I write in installments.
So....the wedding. I guess I can start by repeating the basics: an old friend from middle school, Tzvi Hasten, got engaged to a girl named "Rochele" (though I have still have no idea what her last name is...), who is from the ultra-ultra religious city called "Bnai Brak". When I told some of the more Modern, Liberal religious Jews I have met in Israel where I was going, they made faces and made comments like "I was dressed in a black suit, had a beard...and still felt like a Chilonee (deragatory Hebrew term for a secular Jew)", or "Make sure you eat dinner before you go to the wedding because the food will be awful" or other statements like that.
I can safely say that, although the wedding was unlike much of what I have ever experienced, it wasn't what I expected at all.
First of all, I really was worried that people would be pissed at me for not being dressed in a black suit and black hat (the uniform of ultra-religious Jewish men), or even that I was wearing a shirt that had color in it (again, when I find a computer that can handle it, I will post some pictures from the night, and other times)......alright. I will stop with all these preambles, and get down to what, actually happened.
To get to the wedding, I had arranged ahead of time to meet another friend who I had gone to Middle School with who was going. This kid, Shawn "Adi" Roland, also became religious in Middle School, except he went "all the way" with it, and has been holed up in a Yeshiva in Jerusalem since he graduated from Jewish High School. It's hard to explain exactly what this Yeshiva was like. It is called Chochvei Torah (not to be confused with Yeshivat Chocavei Torah (YCT) in New York, that is known for being a bastion of liberal/Modern Orthodoxy), and walking into the Beis Midrash (the "House of Study", which is basically the really big room full of benches, books, and "bochers" (people studying Torah)) was like walking into 17th Century Poland, except for a cell phone here and there. Nothing else had changed: everyone was dressed THE EXACT same way: white shirts, black pants, buzzed hair cut, and most had glasses. And there were about 120 men sitting in this room, chanting in the melodic sing-song of Talmud study. The room itself was also imposing: it was about three stories high, with very tall windows, an Aron (the place where the Torahs are kept) that was just as tall, and concrete walls that had been white-washed. There was also a smell, but it is the smell of everywhere in Israel that is packed too tightly with people (mostly buses), since, for some reason Israelis don't believe in deoderant.
Damn. I haven't even gotten to the wedding yet, and I need to go shower (and put on deoderant....) before Shabbat starts. I promise to finish this exciting story as soon as I human can.
Until then, I would just like to thank everyone who has written comments or sent me emails---as much fun as I am having here, it is so nice to hear from all of you, and remember that as nice as it is here, I have a place to call home back there.
Shabbat Shalom, and have a wonderful weekend.
Michael
Monday, June 19, 2006
My First Truck Stop Sandwich
[A note: I just got back from a day long "tiyul" (=trip), where we visited an "Illegal Immigrant's Camp" (aka the place the British holed up Jews trying to break into "Palestine" before 1948), and then went on a hike in the beautiful Carmel Mountains outside Haifa. Somewhere between Haifa and Efrat (a pretty big space, to be sure), I ran into what some might call fate, others might call destiny, and still others might call a sandwich. I call it "My First Truck Stop Sandwich".
Indeed, growing up, I found myself squished into the back of my mother's Toyota Land Cruiser, with either "Rudy" or "National Lampoon's Vacation" playing on the little TV we hooked up to the cigarette lighter, fighting over whether I had to sit in the back, or the "backee-back". Back in those days, I didn't keep kosher, but I still never ate a truck stop sandwich, a fact that I attribute to my wonderful mother, who also didn't let us eat cheeseburgers or White Castle. This had nothing to do with Jewish Law (as far as I can tell), and had mostly to do with the fact that these things were percieved as "below" "us". I would call it snobbery, but that's not half as funny as it actually was.
Anyway, most of you know the rest of the story (I fell off the deep end, became religious, and don't eat cheeseburgers or White Castle now because I think that G-d commanded a bunch of Heebs wandering the desert 4000 years ago to refrain from cooking a goat in its mother's milk....you can decide which reason is sillier). Well....maybe you thought you knew the end of the story. Because a new chapter can be added today!
TODAY, June 19th, 2006 (5766), I, Michael J. Star, ate my very first truck stop sandwich on the bus ride from Haifa to Efrat. I went into the truck stop food area innocently enough, looking from some potato chips or pretzels (normal truck stop fare for me in the U.S.), and then I saw them: back in the open refriderator section, there was a selection of 5 different sandwiches (cheese and tomato, tuna fish, baloney, omellete, and bagel with cheese and olives), all in their two-day old glory, with enough preservatives to kill a grown horse. Did the 10 shekel (~$2.50) price hold me back? No. Did the fact that they had sodium levels that the American Surgeon General has warned can cause blackouts keep me from sinking my teeth into them? Nope. All I could see was the little "kosher" symbol on the package, and the plastic wrapping keeping me from cheap hunger alleviation.
I will never forget this day. And I will consecrate it with the following poem:
TruckStop Sandwich
The open refridgerator
case. Cool. Crisp.
(Don't care about the
fresh Orange Juice).
You contain ex-forbidden fruits,
Apples of my eye,
Adam and Eve never had it so
hard.
Truck Stop Sandwich:
until this day you
avoided
polluting my taste buds
with your noxious bread
and stale cheese. Green olives:
were you always green,
or just really, really old?
And yet!
I sunk my hungry teeth into you,
I ate you all up, in a fit of
rage---(I wish I had a
serpent to blame!)
It was not so good or sweet,
but it was kosher.
On that note, thanks for all the comments. Good night.
Michael
[A note: I just got back from a day long "tiyul" (=trip), where we visited an "Illegal Immigrant's Camp" (aka the place the British holed up Jews trying to break into "Palestine" before 1948), and then went on a hike in the beautiful Carmel Mountains outside Haifa. Somewhere between Haifa and Efrat (a pretty big space, to be sure), I ran into what some might call fate, others might call destiny, and still others might call a sandwich. I call it "My First Truck Stop Sandwich".
Indeed, growing up, I found myself squished into the back of my mother's Toyota Land Cruiser, with either "Rudy" or "National Lampoon's Vacation" playing on the little TV we hooked up to the cigarette lighter, fighting over whether I had to sit in the back, or the "backee-back". Back in those days, I didn't keep kosher, but I still never ate a truck stop sandwich, a fact that I attribute to my wonderful mother, who also didn't let us eat cheeseburgers or White Castle. This had nothing to do with Jewish Law (as far as I can tell), and had mostly to do with the fact that these things were percieved as "below" "us". I would call it snobbery, but that's not half as funny as it actually was.
Anyway, most of you know the rest of the story (I fell off the deep end, became religious, and don't eat cheeseburgers or White Castle now because I think that G-d commanded a bunch of Heebs wandering the desert 4000 years ago to refrain from cooking a goat in its mother's milk....you can decide which reason is sillier). Well....maybe you thought you knew the end of the story. Because a new chapter can be added today!
TODAY, June 19th, 2006 (5766), I, Michael J. Star, ate my very first truck stop sandwich on the bus ride from Haifa to Efrat. I went into the truck stop food area innocently enough, looking from some potato chips or pretzels (normal truck stop fare for me in the U.S.), and then I saw them: back in the open refriderator section, there was a selection of 5 different sandwiches (cheese and tomato, tuna fish, baloney, omellete, and bagel with cheese and olives), all in their two-day old glory, with enough preservatives to kill a grown horse. Did the 10 shekel (~$2.50) price hold me back? No. Did the fact that they had sodium levels that the American Surgeon General has warned can cause blackouts keep me from sinking my teeth into them? Nope. All I could see was the little "kosher" symbol on the package, and the plastic wrapping keeping me from cheap hunger alleviation.
I will never forget this day. And I will consecrate it with the following poem:
TruckStop Sandwich
The open refridgerator
case. Cool. Crisp.
(Don't care about the
fresh Orange Juice).
You contain ex-forbidden fruits,
Apples of my eye,
Adam and Eve never had it so
hard.
Truck Stop Sandwich:
until this day you
avoided
polluting my taste buds
with your noxious bread
and stale cheese. Green olives:
were you always green,
or just really, really old?
And yet!
I sunk my hungry teeth into you,
I ate you all up, in a fit of
rage---(I wish I had a
serpent to blame!)
It was not so good or sweet,
but it was kosher.
On that note, thanks for all the comments. Good night.
Michael
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Shabbat in Jerusalem, etc.
This last Friday I left my settler-enclave for the metropolis that is Jerusalem. The day started out normal enough: 7 AM prayers, followed by 1 hour of MCAT studying, and some fooling around on the computers. A friend (Herschel) and I took the 160 bus from Efrat to "The Jerusalem Mall" to go to a PLACE in Jerusalem that is called "The Week of Books". Well, to be precise, last week WAS the "Week of Books", but, for some reason, Israelis call the big book fair that takes place in the "Old Train Station" [note: "old" train station does not refer to the train station that was used immediately before the "new" one, but to an 150 year-old Turkish relic that may have had some train tracks running through it at some point.]
By the time we got there (a bit after noon), it was already closed. I should note at this point that Friday in Israel is like Saturday in America, in that it is the first day of the weekend---since Israelis who observe Shabbat need Friday to prepare for it, everyone pretty much gets Friday off, but---and this threw me off---Sunday is not the weekend. No love for the Christians, I guess. Anyway, not to be brought down, we walked over to what is called "The German Colony", which is a hip, somewhat bohemian, garden district-like place in Jerusalem. All of the houses are very old, and the main drive, Emek Refa'im (which apparently means "Valley of Ghosts") is full of neat cafes, art galleries, wine shops, book shops, and other various stuff. There is also an old church and lots of beautiful old trees. We found a restaurant called "Coffeeshop" which was recommended by a friend (thanks, Shoshana), and had lunch there.
I am not sure where to start about how amazing the dining experience at Coffeeshop was, but it can be summed up in this: it was a kosher restaurant with decently priced, wonderful food, and the service was GREAT. Now, to all of you who do not frequent establishments of the kosher variety, you have NO CLUE how much of a rarity this is. My head nearly exploded when the waitress was actually curteous and smiled while I struggled to order something called "Smoked Salmon Wrap Sushi" and a cheese-and-spinach bureaka (both of which were absolutely delicious; I have an weak spot for bureakas, actually) with my non-existant Hebrew. Maybe she was charmed by my American accent (read: inability to speak, coupled with an inability to admit that I have no idea what I am saying), or it could have been my dashing good looks: I really have no idea. I will just say that it is probably the best lunch I have had in a long, long time. This, coupled with a hilarious conversation with this kid Hershel, who happens to go to Brandeis, about everything ranging from our mutual recanting of supporting our current President, to how funny it was when a dog came in the restaurant, and all the old Israelis in the place started giving it food. By they way---can you imagine this happening in The States?? If a dog wandered into a restaurant in America, the place would be up in a storm---my G-d! Imagine the health code violations!
Anyway, I better move on if I don't want to be eaten alive by the bugs that are attracted to this computer monitor (and if I want to get any sleep at all). From there, we went to Mea Shearim---the ultra-ultra-ultra-Orthodox enclave in the heart of Jerusalem, where there are signs that announce the requirement that all boys and girls entering the neighborhood are required to wear "modest clothing" (knee-length dresses/pants, elbow length sleeves). We were there to buy some books for Yeshiva. Walking in that neighborhood always reminds me of Pleasantville, in that it is all in Black and White [note: to those who don't know, for some anachronistic reason, ultra-Orthodox Jews dress ONLY in black and white], as well as the fact that it is so backwards. More on that....some other time.
From there, we went to Kikar Tzion/Ben Yehudah Street, which is where all the American tourists/Israeli beggers hang out. After about 15 minutes, there, already annoyed by everything there (worst...tourist trap...ever), we went our seperate ways for Shabbat. I was staying with a friend of my aunt's named Tzvi Volk, an ex-American Foriegn Serviceman living in the gorgeous neighborhood of Ramot Bet (not to be confused with Ramot Aleph, Ramot Gimal, Ramot Dalet, Ramot Hay, and Afes Sesh). I called on a whim, as I have never met these people before, and was a bit wary to bother some family that last saw anyone in my immediate family over 30 years ago on Pesach at my grandparents' seder. But...I thought it might be something of an experience, and it was. The family was way too hospitable, especially for someone they didn't know existed a week ago. The food was amazing the entire weekend. On Friday night, they took me to what (I think) was called the "Shiuf", which is technically this clubhouse for the local Zionist youthgroup, but on Friday night it is literally overflowing with people from all over the huge neighborhood (about 300 people backed into a room the size of maybe two basketball courts, and more flowing outside), and everyone singing the simultaneously hopeful and melancholly tunes of Shabbat. Not that the tunes were new, but when you are singing with 300 strangers...it's an experience that is comparable to nothing else.
I could talk about Saturday dinner, which we ate on the family's balchony, which has an indescribably beautiful view of Jerusalem, and how gorgeous the weather was as well. That....and much else. But I need to get to bed soon, so I will run through the rest of my weekend as quick as possible.
I left their house Saturday night, and met up with my friend back in the center of town. We had some pizza (which, although better than the local kosher pizza in Boston, was still pretty bad.....all those years of Puccini's really spoiled me). And hung out at a bar watching the Italy/America world cup game. And we caught the last bus back to Efrat.
Today was like every other day: woke up early, studied Torah, fell asleep in funny places/positions, played soccer, wrote some emails. (Happy Father's Day, also).
Tomorrow we are going to Haifa to hike on some crazy trail. It will be fun, I hope. And on Wednesday, I am going to Bnai Brak (famous for being one of the largest communities of insanely religious Jews, right after Brooklyn) on Wednesday for an old friends' (Tzvi Hasten) wedding. Yes, he's my age. It's going to be...something. I was thinking of causing a rucus; ideas included dressing up like a girl and hanging out on the "girls' side", dressing up like a very religious Chasidic Jew, or just showing up completely wasted, but I realized that if I come dressed like I usually dress (nice shirt, tie, nice pants), I will stand out enough (I will probably be one of 4 men there not wearing a black hat). Fear not---I will take pictures and post them.
Hope everything is going well over there across the Atlantic.
Michael
This last Friday I left my settler-enclave for the metropolis that is Jerusalem. The day started out normal enough: 7 AM prayers, followed by 1 hour of MCAT studying, and some fooling around on the computers. A friend (Herschel) and I took the 160 bus from Efrat to "The Jerusalem Mall" to go to a PLACE in Jerusalem that is called "The Week of Books". Well, to be precise, last week WAS the "Week of Books", but, for some reason, Israelis call the big book fair that takes place in the "Old Train Station" [note: "old" train station does not refer to the train station that was used immediately before the "new" one, but to an 150 year-old Turkish relic that may have had some train tracks running through it at some point.]
By the time we got there (a bit after noon), it was already closed. I should note at this point that Friday in Israel is like Saturday in America, in that it is the first day of the weekend---since Israelis who observe Shabbat need Friday to prepare for it, everyone pretty much gets Friday off, but---and this threw me off---Sunday is not the weekend. No love for the Christians, I guess. Anyway, not to be brought down, we walked over to what is called "The German Colony", which is a hip, somewhat bohemian, garden district-like place in Jerusalem. All of the houses are very old, and the main drive, Emek Refa'im (which apparently means "Valley of Ghosts") is full of neat cafes, art galleries, wine shops, book shops, and other various stuff. There is also an old church and lots of beautiful old trees. We found a restaurant called "Coffeeshop" which was recommended by a friend (thanks, Shoshana), and had lunch there.
I am not sure where to start about how amazing the dining experience at Coffeeshop was, but it can be summed up in this: it was a kosher restaurant with decently priced, wonderful food, and the service was GREAT. Now, to all of you who do not frequent establishments of the kosher variety, you have NO CLUE how much of a rarity this is. My head nearly exploded when the waitress was actually curteous and smiled while I struggled to order something called "Smoked Salmon Wrap Sushi" and a cheese-and-spinach bureaka (both of which were absolutely delicious; I have an weak spot for bureakas, actually) with my non-existant Hebrew. Maybe she was charmed by my American accent (read: inability to speak, coupled with an inability to admit that I have no idea what I am saying), or it could have been my dashing good looks: I really have no idea. I will just say that it is probably the best lunch I have had in a long, long time. This, coupled with a hilarious conversation with this kid Hershel, who happens to go to Brandeis, about everything ranging from our mutual recanting of supporting our current President, to how funny it was when a dog came in the restaurant, and all the old Israelis in the place started giving it food. By they way---can you imagine this happening in The States?? If a dog wandered into a restaurant in America, the place would be up in a storm---my G-d! Imagine the health code violations!
Anyway, I better move on if I don't want to be eaten alive by the bugs that are attracted to this computer monitor (and if I want to get any sleep at all). From there, we went to Mea Shearim---the ultra-ultra-ultra-Orthodox enclave in the heart of Jerusalem, where there are signs that announce the requirement that all boys and girls entering the neighborhood are required to wear "modest clothing" (knee-length dresses/pants, elbow length sleeves). We were there to buy some books for Yeshiva. Walking in that neighborhood always reminds me of Pleasantville, in that it is all in Black and White [note: to those who don't know, for some anachronistic reason, ultra-Orthodox Jews dress ONLY in black and white], as well as the fact that it is so backwards. More on that....some other time.
From there, we went to Kikar Tzion/Ben Yehudah Street, which is where all the American tourists/Israeli beggers hang out. After about 15 minutes, there, already annoyed by everything there (worst...tourist trap...ever), we went our seperate ways for Shabbat. I was staying with a friend of my aunt's named Tzvi Volk, an ex-American Foriegn Serviceman living in the gorgeous neighborhood of Ramot Bet (not to be confused with Ramot Aleph, Ramot Gimal, Ramot Dalet, Ramot Hay, and Afes Sesh). I called on a whim, as I have never met these people before, and was a bit wary to bother some family that last saw anyone in my immediate family over 30 years ago on Pesach at my grandparents' seder. But...I thought it might be something of an experience, and it was. The family was way too hospitable, especially for someone they didn't know existed a week ago. The food was amazing the entire weekend. On Friday night, they took me to what (I think) was called the "Shiuf", which is technically this clubhouse for the local Zionist youthgroup, but on Friday night it is literally overflowing with people from all over the huge neighborhood (about 300 people backed into a room the size of maybe two basketball courts, and more flowing outside), and everyone singing the simultaneously hopeful and melancholly tunes of Shabbat. Not that the tunes were new, but when you are singing with 300 strangers...it's an experience that is comparable to nothing else.
I could talk about Saturday dinner, which we ate on the family's balchony, which has an indescribably beautiful view of Jerusalem, and how gorgeous the weather was as well. That....and much else. But I need to get to bed soon, so I will run through the rest of my weekend as quick as possible.
I left their house Saturday night, and met up with my friend back in the center of town. We had some pizza (which, although better than the local kosher pizza in Boston, was still pretty bad.....all those years of Puccini's really spoiled me). And hung out at a bar watching the Italy/America world cup game. And we caught the last bus back to Efrat.
Today was like every other day: woke up early, studied Torah, fell asleep in funny places/positions, played soccer, wrote some emails. (Happy Father's Day, also).
Tomorrow we are going to Haifa to hike on some crazy trail. It will be fun, I hope. And on Wednesday, I am going to Bnai Brak (famous for being one of the largest communities of insanely religious Jews, right after Brooklyn) on Wednesday for an old friends' (Tzvi Hasten) wedding. Yes, he's my age. It's going to be...something. I was thinking of causing a rucus; ideas included dressing up like a girl and hanging out on the "girls' side", dressing up like a very religious Chasidic Jew, or just showing up completely wasted, but I realized that if I come dressed like I usually dress (nice shirt, tie, nice pants), I will stand out enough (I will probably be one of 4 men there not wearing a black hat). Fear not---I will take pictures and post them.
Hope everything is going well over there across the Atlantic.
Michael
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I have a free minute so I will write.
Learning here has been a new experience. The basic philosophy seems to be, to throw us into the water, and hope that we can swim. In other words, they don't baby us here: they give us the chance to figure things out on our own, and to be on our own schedule. This can be very, very frustrating at times, though very, very rewarding when we actually figure something out.
We are currently studying Talmud in the morning, and various things, including Torah, Chassidus (lessons from old Chasidic Rabbis), and philosophy in the afternoons. Specifically, we are studying from the book of "Damages" in the Talmud, and are currently on the subject of conspiring witnesses. I know this sounds about as interesting as watching paint peel off the wall, but it is nice because I am learning, first of all, how to read the Talmud (ie it's in aramaic, and has lots of funny structural and grammatical assumptions that I don't know), and the implications of the decisions are much larger than they might seem (ie the moral and ethical implications of what the Rabbis say can apply to *much* larger ideas).
Either way, the weather here is perfect. You couldn't ask for better. It is warm, but not too warm. It's perpetually hanging around 72 degrees (fahrenheit). Tomorrow I will be going in to Jerusalem for the first time in six years, and I am quite excited to go back there.
Also, MCAT studying has been going well, and I am starting to write an essay for my apps. All I can say is, I realize why people are so afraid of this test: going over the practice tests has been murder. I'm still confident about them, though.
I hope everything is going well for all of you in the States, and I would love to hear from you if you get the chance.
Best,
Michael
Learning here has been a new experience. The basic philosophy seems to be, to throw us into the water, and hope that we can swim. In other words, they don't baby us here: they give us the chance to figure things out on our own, and to be on our own schedule. This can be very, very frustrating at times, though very, very rewarding when we actually figure something out.
We are currently studying Talmud in the morning, and various things, including Torah, Chassidus (lessons from old Chasidic Rabbis), and philosophy in the afternoons. Specifically, we are studying from the book of "Damages" in the Talmud, and are currently on the subject of conspiring witnesses. I know this sounds about as interesting as watching paint peel off the wall, but it is nice because I am learning, first of all, how to read the Talmud (ie it's in aramaic, and has lots of funny structural and grammatical assumptions that I don't know), and the implications of the decisions are much larger than they might seem (ie the moral and ethical implications of what the Rabbis say can apply to *much* larger ideas).
Either way, the weather here is perfect. You couldn't ask for better. It is warm, but not too warm. It's perpetually hanging around 72 degrees (fahrenheit). Tomorrow I will be going in to Jerusalem for the first time in six years, and I am quite excited to go back there.
Also, MCAT studying has been going well, and I am starting to write an essay for my apps. All I can say is, I realize why people are so afraid of this test: going over the practice tests has been murder. I'm still confident about them, though.
I hope everything is going well for all of you in the States, and I would love to hear from you if you get the chance.
Best,
Michael
Monday, June 12, 2006
I don't want anyone to think that I am just coming to Israel to post on this silly blog, but since I have some time to kill while waiting for the water in my room to heat up, I thought I would just give some first impressions of the Yeshiva that I am at (first impressions are, I believe, the most important).
First of all, this Yeshiva is quite remote. I took the bus to Efrat with all of my bags (too many, actually), and got dropped off at what I thought was the Yeshiva in the middle of town, only to find out that it was a different one, and the one I am at is about 1 mile away (which wasn't a very fun mile, what with all 100 pounds of stuff on my back). The Yeshiva is on the top of a hill, with views of all of the surrounding valleys and hills, which include some lush farm land, as well as the major West Bank highway. The view is gorgeous---it's a mix of gold, green, and greys that are especially breathtaking around sunset. The buildings themselves are quite interesting: the main "Beit Midrash" (house of study) is made of the golden brick that Jerusalem is famous for, but the majority of the buildings are basically trailers. My room is basically half of a trailer, with it's own little bathroom. One thing that startled me when I walked into the trailer was how spotlessly clean it was; the outside suggested shabbiness, but the inside is almost immaculate. The only thing that could remotely be described as "not clean" is the mattress...which, compared to the mattresses at AEPi, is pretty much new.
More important than the physical makeup, though, is the people. There was a very aplogetic guy who is in charge and greeted me named Mikey Sunshine (*actual* name). Him, along with most other people, have been very welcoming, and suprisingly diverse, at least with regard to nationality. There are Americans, Israelis, Brits, Austrailians, Canadians, and New Zealanders---pretty much every English speaking country where Jews live.
Other than that....there's not too much to say yet. Don't get used to these frequent posts, as I don't plan on doing them so often in the future. Just wanted to let you know that I am here and that it seems like a decent place.
Question of the day: What is more satisfying: physical pleasures, or immaterial ones?
Best,
Michael
First of all, this Yeshiva is quite remote. I took the bus to Efrat with all of my bags (too many, actually), and got dropped off at what I thought was the Yeshiva in the middle of town, only to find out that it was a different one, and the one I am at is about 1 mile away (which wasn't a very fun mile, what with all 100 pounds of stuff on my back). The Yeshiva is on the top of a hill, with views of all of the surrounding valleys and hills, which include some lush farm land, as well as the major West Bank highway. The view is gorgeous---it's a mix of gold, green, and greys that are especially breathtaking around sunset. The buildings themselves are quite interesting: the main "Beit Midrash" (house of study) is made of the golden brick that Jerusalem is famous for, but the majority of the buildings are basically trailers. My room is basically half of a trailer, with it's own little bathroom. One thing that startled me when I walked into the trailer was how spotlessly clean it was; the outside suggested shabbiness, but the inside is almost immaculate. The only thing that could remotely be described as "not clean" is the mattress...which, compared to the mattresses at AEPi, is pretty much new.
More important than the physical makeup, though, is the people. There was a very aplogetic guy who is in charge and greeted me named Mikey Sunshine (*actual* name). Him, along with most other people, have been very welcoming, and suprisingly diverse, at least with regard to nationality. There are Americans, Israelis, Brits, Austrailians, Canadians, and New Zealanders---pretty much every English speaking country where Jews live.
Other than that....there's not too much to say yet. Don't get used to these frequent posts, as I don't plan on doing them so often in the future. Just wanted to let you know that I am here and that it seems like a decent place.
Question of the day: What is more satisfying: physical pleasures, or immaterial ones?
Best,
Michael
Hello everyone! I arrived safely in Ben Gurion about an hour ago. Lucky for me, Rabbi Poupko (the Harvard Hillel Rabbi) was on the same plane with me, so we had some iced coffee, a boureka, and then shared a cab to Jerusalem. I am currently in the bus station in Jerusalem, which is about 100% different then it was 6 years ago. Think....the difference between where the Chinatown Bus stop used to be in Boston (in front of a pastry shop), and Logan Airport. This place is crazy. It's like a nice mall, synagogue (there is *actually* a synagogue), and a bus station all in one.
Anyway, I am on my way to Efrat. I have managed to only lose my pillow so far (left it in the taxi), which is good, considering my absent mind (I am holding onto my camera like it was my life). Take it easy over there in the States.
"I've eaten all over the world: America, Europe....everywhere. Only in Israel does food actually fill me up"----Israeli Cab Driver
Yours,
Michael
Anyway, I am on my way to Efrat. I have managed to only lose my pillow so far (left it in the taxi), which is good, considering my absent mind (I am holding onto my camera like it was my life). Take it easy over there in the States.
"I've eaten all over the world: America, Europe....everywhere. Only in Israel does food actually fill me up"----Israeli Cab Driver
Yours,
Michael
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
