East Jerusalem, An Alien City

I came to Israel with my trusty Tanakh as my only book, though I have since acquired a kindle. My roommate Annie, however, somehow managed to pack an entire bookcase. Annie, being her generous self, has lent me several books throughout the school year, most recently The Amos Oz Reader, a collection of essays from many of Amos Oz's books. A week ago, I read "An Alien City" from Under This Blazing Light, published in 1968. It is mostly reflections on Jerusalem prior to the Six Day War, ending with the reunification of Jerusalem after the 1967 war. While things have changed a lot in the past 63 years and especially in the past 44 years, much of it is still a relatively accurate portrayal of life in Jerusalem today - especially life in East Jerusalem, and the life of an international student.

Thus, I would like to share several quotes from the essay, along with my reflections.

First, on life prior to 1967:

I knew that Jerusalem was surrounded by forces that wanted me dead.

Later I moved away from Jerusalem. I still love the city as one loves a disdainful woman. Sometimes, when I had nothing better to do, I used to go to Jerusalem to woo her.

I liked Jerusalem because it was a city at the end of the road, a city you could get to but never go through, and also because Jerusalem was never really part of the State of Israel: with the exception of a few streets, it always maintained a separate identity, as though it was deliberately turning its back on all those flat white commercial towns: Tel Aviv, Holon, Herzlia, Netanya.

And there was fear in Jerusalem: an inner fear that must never be named or expressed in words, but that gathered, accumulated, solidified in winding alleys and isolated lanes.

All my childhood years were spent in the proximity of streets that must not be approached, dangerous alleyways, scars of war damage, no-man's-land.

And, life after 1967:

My dreams had deceived me, the nightmares were unfounded, the perpetual dread had suddenly been transformed into a cruel arabesque joke.

Jerusalem is mine, yet a stranger to me; captured and yet resentful; yielding, yet withdrawn.

Living in Jerusalem today, one still has this sense of fear, the fear that "the Other" is out to get you. For the Israelis, the fear is of the Palestinians; for the Palestinians, the fear is of the Israelis. Whether or not the fear is founded is another issue. I have lived through a bombing in Jerusalem at the hands of Palestinian terrorists that killed one of my classmates, but I have also lived through the Israeli revenge air strike that took out innocent children in addition to terrorists. I live within walking distance of the security wall. I see how the Israelis have forced the Palestinians out and how they can make their life a living hell just because. While I do not live in fear, I see others around me who do, and the longer I am here, the more muddled the issue becomes. I still support the Palestinians, but I also realize that they are not without their faults, that they have indeed things to warrant, at least on occasion, Israeli fear. And still today, even though the city is "reunified," there is still a sense that there are certain places in the city to which one must not go. Of course, I am stubborn and think that my Americanness will spare me any real harm, so I tend to ignore these unspoken rules, especially when the reasoning is "you can't go to such-and-such place because it is Arab." I fear the Old City vendors more than I fear the Arab neighborhoods.

Even today, I get the sense that Jerusalem is in a league of its own, the capital of Israel and yet still not part of Israel. To be sure, Jerusalem is in its own way a microcosm of the state, a place where the ultra-religious and the wholly secular meet, a place that is sacred to all the monotheistic faiths. It is an interesting city, to be sure, one that I still don't seem to have a handle on, but I always feel this sense of relief when I manage to get out of the city, even just for a few hours. Perhaps it is because I have never really lived in a city. Its very hugeness can be oppressive at times. On a few occasions, I have went out on my own, to the market and once to the Old City. It is a surreal experience. For one thing, riding the bus by myself has always been unsettling, trying to figure out what stop I need, forced to sit by a stranger - or worse, forced to stand and be thrown about like a rag doll. And then knowing how to interact with people, both on and off the bus. Do I say "shalom" to the ultra-orthodox man or do I avert my gaze? Do I make room for the Arab family to pass or do I just ignore them? (Will my politeness be interpreted as a form of racism?) Do I try to speak Hebrew or just ask in English? (For the record, almost always when I ask a question in Hebrew it is answered in English.) While a simple outing can be refreshing, it can also be mentally exhausting.

I think Amos Oz captures the essence of Jerusalem, at least for me. "Jerusalem is mine, yet a stranger to me," and "I still love the city as one loves a disdainful woman." This place has been my home for the past 7+ months, and even though I am counting down the days till I am back in Ohio, back to my real home, I know that I will miss Jerusalem. As frustrating as the city is, there is something about it. Maybe there is something in the water, but the city seems to get in your blood. My heart never quite left Ohio, but I have a feeling that my heart will never quite leave Israel either.

Life and Death, Joy and Sorrow

Monday morning, shortly after 8:30am, I was sitting in Hebrew class, my first class after the nearly 2 1/2 week Pesach break, wishing I was still curled up in bed. The teacher was asking us something in Hebrew, but I didn't quite catch it. I looked at my friend Kristin, who was sitting beside me, and she whispered "the news." I shrugged my shoulders. I tend to take an "ignorance is bliss" approach to the news. I thought maybe the teacher was referring to something about Holocaust Remembrance Day, which that day was. One of the Korean students responded, and the teacher repeated her answer so we could all hear it. (Half the class is Korean, and they all speak so softly, at least in Hebrew, that no one can hear what they say.) I heard her say "bin Laden," and I was a bit confused. What did bin Laden have to do with the Holocaust? (Clearly, I was only half-paying attention.) Then, to make sure we all understood, the teacher repeated the news in English (an extremely rare occurrence in Hebrew class). Bin Laden was dead? The classroom broke out in a buzz of English and Korean as we all processed the news. I looked at Kristin again, and in disbelief, I asked her, "Haven't we already killed him like ten times?" (I was actually thinking about Hussein and the public airing of his hanging which interrupted my Friday evening TV viewing a few years ago and how later there were rumors, maybe even confirmations, that we actually killed his double.) Kristin shrugged.

Bin Laden was dead. In a split second, I was back in sophomore honors English, where at around 9:45am on 9/11/01 our teacher took us to the library to watch the news coverage of the attack on the Twin Towers. We watched in utter disbelief and complete terror as they re-played the footage of the planes hitting the buildings over and over, as if it was on some sort of loop. We could see little specks falling to the ground - people jumping to their deaths. And then, one of the towers collapsed right before our eyes, live on TV. Most of us had just come from Chamber Singers, and someone suddenly said, "What about our trip?" Our choir was scheduled to go to NYC in just a couple of months, right before Thanksgiving. My eyes were still fixed on the TV, waiting for the scene to change, for someone to say it was just part of some cruel movie. Even when I realized it was indeed a terrorist attack, my 15-year-old brain couldn't understand what that meant. Why would it affect our trip plans? Why would it affect anything? Al-Qaeda, Taliban, bin Laden, Hussein - these weren't part of my vocabulary. At best, I had a vague recollection of what they were. I'm not so sure I even knew what the Twin Towers were before that day.

By the time my thoughts had returned to the present, just a few seconds later, the teacher had already moved on. It was as if she had just announced the date of the oral exam, not the assassination of the US's most wanted man.

I wasn't able to get online to check the news until a few hours later, after Hebrew class and after the Holocaust Remembrance Ceremony hosted by Rothberg. I skimmed a few news stories reporting the ambush on the compound and the DNA confirmation that it was indeed bin Laden. I found a link to the text of Obama's speech. And then I turned to facebook to see what the reactions were of my friends back in the US. Since arriving in Israel, I haven't really followed my newsfeed; it is pretty much impossible to keep up with everyone half a world a way so I don't really try. But that day, I wanted to see what people were thinking and saying, mainly because I wasn't so sure how I felt. I found mixed responses: many were joyously celebrating the death of bin Laden, but others were denouncing the death of anyone, even someone as evil as bin Laden. While I was disturbed at the sort of enjoyment some seemed to get out of the news, I was equally appalled by the sense of righteous indignation that others seemed to be displaying. I don't mean to criticize anyone; we are all entitled to our own thoughts and feelings, especially in response to something like the death of bin Laden. But as someone who is currently living in the Middle East, I can tell you that we (for the most part) feel neither joy or sorrow at the death of bin Laden. While some of my friends here have joked about it now being safer to live in Israel that the US (although I still maintain that Ohio is pretty much the safest place to be - I mean, who is going to attack a bunch of cornfields?), the truth is, none of us see the point behind it. Yes, bin Laden was a bad man and the world is probably better off without him. His death, however, does not solve anything. Al-Qaeda still exists and will continue to exist. A new leader will emerge and vengeance will be taken, most likely on US soil. We're supposedly fighting over "there" (the Middle East) so we won't have to fight over "here" (the US), but the assassination of bin Laden will probably lead to bringing the war back home, even if it just momentarily.

Despite the news of bin Laden's death on Monday, we were all reminded that murder doesn't solve anything as we observed Holocaust Remembrance Day. Hilter and the Nazis celebrated the death of 11 million people - 6 million Jews and 5 million Roma (gypsies), homosexuals, developmentally delayed persons, African-Germans, Jehovah Witnesses and others - but in the end, life triumphed over death. On Monday, we mourned the loss of those 11 million people, but we also celebrated their lives. Most of them will remain nameless, faceless to me, their stories never reaching my ears, but that does not mean I can't cherish their lives, each as an individual. I remember one day in the Holocaust class I took in undergrad wondering, "What if Einstein had died in the Holocaust?" Einstein was, after all, a German-born Jew. Suddenly, almost in a panic, I realized that dozens, hundreds, thousands of Einsteins did die in the Holocaust. Who knows what those who died might have accomplished if they had lived? Many had already made important contributions before they were murdered. And so I celebrate their lives, not just what they did for society but also for who they were as children of God. And I mourn their deaths, the potential that was snatched away from them, the potential that we as a society were denied, the love that they had to share.

On Monday, I chose to celebrate the lives and mourn the deaths of those 11 million souls, and to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of my father. I chose not to celebrate nor mourn the death of bin Laden. I chose them over him.

Old City Vendors, Hiking & Sleepless Nights

Today is my last day of the break, although classes did resume today for those who had class. After a 2 1/2 week break, you would think I would be ready to return to class, but no, I really am not. I have rather enjoyed the laziness of sleeping in (when my body would cooperate) and the freedom to do whatever I felt like.

The past week has went by rather quickly. Pesach ended Monday at sundown, so Annie and I decided to celebrate in style and had our favorite, Focaccia's, for dinner. It was hametz-filled goodness. I spent some time with the baby on Tuesday, while her momma prepared for her 1st birthday party the next day. On Wednesday, I ventured into the Old City to do some souvenir shopping. I was intending to buy presents but ended up only buying for myself. And of course, I overstayed my welcome, meaning that I did not leave before the vendors started getting to me. I know they need to make a living, but they are so pushy! After the Old City was the birthday party, with Beth's amazing homemade cake & cupcakes, complete with homemade icing! The little one is all but walking now. I can't believe I am missing my godbaby's 1st birthday, even if it is just by 4 days. :-(

Annie and I visited En Gedi on Thursday, which was an adventure. First, Annie almost didn't get on the bus - she had to go to the ATM and by the time she got back and back in line, the bus was full. I couldn't get off because I already had my ticket punched. But somehow, by the grace of God, Annie was the very last person that was allowed to board the bus. It meant that she had to stand for a good chunk of the trip but at least we arrived together! We had no problem getting into the national park (even though my temporary pass has technically expired and I never called in to get the permanent one...). We hiked up to the waterfalls, which I had seen with my parents back in January, and then continued on to the Chalcolithic Temple (c. 3000 BCE). That hike all but killed me. It was steep, with a loose gravel/sand path and uneven steps. At one point we had to climb these steps that were between a cliff and a rock-wall. Instead of having a rail to keep us from falling down the cliff, there was a steel cable attached to the rock-wall. I was literally pulling myself up by the cable, all the while hearing my mom's voice freaking out in my head. We had to make frequent stops, mainly for me, but in the end we survived, even if I am still a bit sore! After we finished the hike, we visited the ancient synagogue, which dates to the 4th-6th c. CE - Annie's period. I saw it with my parents but there was school children on a field trip so we couldn't see it as much as I would have liked. But it was just me and Annie, so we took our time and I may have climbed on things I probably shouldn't have to take better photos, but I promise I didn't climb on anything too important...

I haven't really done much of anything the past few days. Just working on a midterm paper and studying Hebrew, and most importantly, trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. I did have coffee with my language buddy Ayana yesterday, at 4:30 in the afternoon, so I couldn't fall asleep last night - and then proceeded to wake up before 7am this morning. It is no wonder I am always exhausted and never have any energy - I probably don't get half the sleep here as I did at home! But I will be home before I know it and will probably wish I was back here.

Sacrifices, Seders and Artifacts

So I didn't get around to updating mid-week as planned, so I have lots to write about and in hopes of not forgetting anything, I'm just going to do a day-by-day report of break so far:

Sunday (17.4) - Beth called and asked if I wanted to go to the Samaritan Passover sacrifice with them. I was half-asleep, so I was sure I heard her wrong but I said yes anyways. (See, Meg, I am listening to you and saying yes to everything - whether or not I actually hear what I am being invited to do!) But we did indeed go to the Samaritan Passover sacrifice at Mount Gerizim. The Samaritans trace their genealogy back to the Northern Kingdom of Israel, defeated by the Assyrians in 722 BCE. Mount Gerizim was where their temple was, pretty much from the beginning. Today, there are fewer than 1,000 Samaritans left (the figures I saw/heard were 600 and 750). They are the only ones who still sacrifice lambs for Pesach (Passover), and the ceremony begins at sundown the day before Pesach begins. [Pesach began at sundown on Monday; the ceremony began at sundown on Sunday.] It was an interesting experience, and pictures will be up on facebook later today. Basically, all non-Samaritans (except some photographers) had to remain outside the temple complex, either in the stands or around the fences surrounding the complex. We sat on the bottom row of the stands, in the right corner, so basically we couldn't really see anything. The stands, as my pictures demonstrate, were also separated from the temple complex by a chain fence. I couldn't really understand what was going on, as everything was in Hebrew, and I couldn't tell who was who. Thankfully, I did not see them kill or skin the lambs, although I was able to see some of the headless, skinless lambs after they had been skewered to be roasted. We left at that point, as it was already past the baby's bedtime and we were an hour from Jerusalem. It is not something I would want to go to again, but I am glad I had the chance to go. The people in the stands were not very polite, and the mood in the stands was not all that holy. I felt more like a spectator than a participant or observer of a sacred rite. That part was frustrating, because the annual sacrifice is clearly a sacred rite, dating back to Moses, and that sanctity was disrupted for me by crowds straining to see and people yelling for those in front to sit down. Nevertheless, it was still nice to experience the religious traditions of another people of the Holy Land.

Monday (18.4) - Pesach officially began at sundown. The seder I attended was actually rather short; it started around 7pm and I was home by 12:30am. We skipped and/or summarized many parts because they wanted the children to experience as much of the seder as possible before they fell asleep. (Unlike many seders, no one tried to keep the children up through it all!) I had never been to a seder before, so I didn't always know what was going on, but I really enjoyed it. There were 14 of us: the host couple; their daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren; two other relatives of the hosts (cousins or neice/nephew...not sure); a guy doing a gap year before college (as was the male relative); two young people who had recently made aliyah; and myself and another Rothberg (undergrad) student. The food was good, and there was so much of it! Appetizers, soup, two kinds of potatoes, two kinds of meats, couscous, at least two vegetables, fruit, and two different cakes for dessert! Lots of singing, too - both traditional Pesach songs and some written by various family members. We also incorporated some feminist elements to the seder. The seder plate included all the traditional items plus an orange. Apparently back when women were not allowed to lead synagogue (I'm not sure if they meant lead anything or just to be a rabbi), there was a saying that women belonged up front like an orange belonged on a seder plate. So, of course, women started including oranges on their seder plates. Also, in addition to the Elijah cup, we had a Miriam cup. It is traditional to have an empty chair and a wine cup for Elijah; but instead of pouring Elijah his own cup, we passed the cup around and we all poured some of our wine (or in my case, grape juice) into it. We did the same with the Miriam cup, but with water. It is a means of recognizing the importance of Miriam in the Exodus story (after all, she did kinda help keep Moses alive!). Another tradition is hiding a piece of matza for the children to find. Whoever finds it gets a prize, but of course, like every good grandmother, our host had a gift for each grandchild - and each of us young people! All in all, it was a wonderful evening.

Tuesday (19.4) - First day of Pesach. Pretty much everything was closed, and I didn't really do a whole lot, other than reading for classes. Also took a walk around French Hill (the neighborhood the kfar is in).

Wednesday (20.4) - Another low key day.

Thursday (21.4) - Went to the Bible Land Museum and the Botanical Garden, both of which were free for Pesach, with my friend Rebekah. The museum contains artifacts from periods and areas relating to the Bible (go figure!). It's not a very big place - we saw everything in about an hour and a half - but I was impressed with the quality of the artifacts. Some of it was even better preserved than what they have next door at the Israel Museum. After we finished at the museum, since it was nice out, we decided to walk down to the garden, which took a little while to find.There are two Hebrew U campuses in Jerusalem; Mount Scopus, the original campus and the one where the international school is located, and Givat Ram, which was built after 1948, when the original campus was inaccessible due to the outcome of the 1948 war. Both schools have botanical gardens. At Mount Scopus, our garden contains plants from all over Israel. The garden at Givat Ram, however, contains plants from all over the world and is huge. It was pretty, and Rebekah and I felt at home when we wandered into the section with plants from North America!

Friday (22.4) - The lovely miss Becky (Annie's little sister) joined us for the weekend. Becky made aliyah after high school and has been here almost two years now. The three of us had a laundry party - what else do you do on a Friday night when everything is closed for Shabbat? Other than that, I just did more homework.

Saturday (23.4) - More homework. And dinner with Annie and Becky. After Shabbat ended, we caught a bus to the center of town and ate at Spaghettis, a kosher restaurant that is also kosher for Pesach (כשר לפסח). So for the first (and probably last) time in my life, I had noodles (Alfredo) without hametz (literally, "the dough"). I am glad I went and experienced such cuisine, but it's not something I am hoping to repeat. The noodles were an interesting texture and were kinda chewy, but I got two meals out of them. Another staple during Pesach is, of course, matza. Apparently, there is some sort of unwritten rule that only non-Jews actually like matza (probably because we are not forced to eat it every year and can supplement it with other hametz-y foods). So, of course, I do indeed enjoy matza and ended up buying a 2.5 kg (~5.4 lbs) box of it at the store.

Today (24.4) - Easter! I figured since I am normally a heathen and don't go to church (other than Christmas Day), I should at least go on Easter. I went with Beth's family to St. George's Cathedral, an Episcopal Church. I had never been to an Episcopal (or Anglican) church before (at least not that I can recall), so that in itself made it an interesting experience. The bishop was there, along with several priests and a couple of what appeared to be priests-in-training (seminary students?). For Easter, they combine their English and Arabic speaking congregations. All the songs and responses were done simultaneously in English and Arabic, but it seemed like the majority of the liturgy (meaning the priests' parts) was done in Arabic. The Gospel and the sermon were both done first in Arabic and then in English. The first lesson was only done in Arabic - I don't even know what it was. I would have preferred it if the sermon was treated more like a translation - a sentence or two in Arabic, then in English. I'm an adult and even I had a hard time sitting through a sermon in a language I didn't understand! The poor little kids were all restless and there were lots of dirty looks being cast, but what can you expect? I'm sure they didn't even understand the sermon in their language. They also use a lot of incense, so I have had a headache pretty much all day. But it was a nice worship celebration.

I think that's pretty much it. I feel like I haven't gotten nearly enough accomplished, considering break is more than half over, but I am at least enjoying my break some.

Quick Update

I am on break until May. For some reason, even though Pesach doesn't begin until Monday evening, Pesach break started Thursday. Not that I am complaining, just seemed strange to have an entire week of class minus one day.

The desert trip was cancelled. :(

Decided to go on a mini-adventure Thursday. Went to the market and Ben Yehuda. Bought a kilo of strawberries (1 kg = 2.2 lbs...were gone in less than 30 hours...), potatoes, candied almonds, challah, a couple treats and a few souvenirs. And then I decided to get a focaccia for "take away" (as they call "to go" here) from Focaccia Bar, which is pretty much my favorite restaurant here. Spent entirely too much money but had a good time. I needed to get out of the Hebrew U bubble, even just for a few hours.

All in all, it's been a pretty low-key week. Only been on break a few days and already have been ridiculously productive. I will have 4-5 final papers to write after classes end (due between July 16 and August 16), so I am trying to get a jumpstart on those. And I bought the Bet (second level) Hebrew textbook before break started, so maybe I will start to teach myself more Hebrew. My Hebrew class is going soooo slow, which I probably shouldn't complain about since most other kids are complaining about how fast their classes are going. So for my own mental well-being, I need to work ahead.

Not much else to report. Spring is in full gear here, which means my allergies are wreaking havoc on me. Had a couple breakdowns earlier this week, mainly because break has started and many of my friends have left for home or to travel abroad and I am here with no real plans. But I am doing better, at least for the moment. I am hoping to make some day trips and maybe visit a few places around Jerusalem I haven't been to yet. Trying to make the most of the time I have left in Israel and reminding myself I will be home before I know it!

I may try to update mid-week, about my first Pesach Seder!!

Food and Hebrewness

So I am finally healthy, or at least as healthy as I get. My complete inability to sleep in Israel (at least without the aid of Tyledol PM) persists. At this point I think it is safe to say that my body has rejected Israel.

All in all, it was a pretty atypical week, though it felt like every other week. I had my Hebrew midterm on Tuesday, and, if I may say so, I kicked butt. I have been craving Focaccia like crazy, so Kristin and I indulged on Wednesday, and then the lovely Ms. Becky (Annie's sister) decided to grace us with her presence Thursday evening. We had Burger's Bar (or rather Annie, Becky and Kristin did and I just stole half their fries!) while Annie gave us a detailed account of her whirlwind tour of PhD schools in the States.

Friday I went to Ein Kerem with Ayana, my language buddy. The pictures are already posted on Facebook; if you're not on FB and you want to see them, let me know and I will send you the link. Ein Kerem is Hebrew for "spring of the vineyard" and according to tradition, it was the home of Zechariah and Elizabeth, parents of John the Baptist, and where Mary visited when both women were pregnant. We visited the spring, over which a mosque was built, and the Church of the Visitation, commemorating the aforementioned event. Elizabeth was also said to have hidden in the mountains with John during the "Slaughter of the Innocents" - a tradition with which I was not familiar. I thought the "slaughter" was limited to Bethlehem. Anyways, after we saw the church, Ayana really wanted ice cream and who was I to deny her that?

Ayana dropped me off back at the kfar around 6pm, which gave me plenty of time to prepare for synagogue, which doesn't start until 7pm now, thanks to the time change last week. Annie accompanied me, and we ended up having Shabbat dinner with the rabbi and her family. Pesach (Passover) is coming up, so I had asked if there were people in the congregation who were hosting international students for the seder. In the process, the rabbi invited us to Shabbat dinner. They have 3 little girls, the oldest of whom is no more than 9 or 10 (if that). It is a truly bilingual (Hebrew and English) household, and all of them switched back and forth in the same conversation. The youngest, who is 2, uses both in the same sentence, but that is to be expected. Having Shabbat dinner with a rabbi's family was a different experience, as was having it in a home with young children. I had a good time, and the food was delicious!

When I had asked about seder, I originally asked the person who had made the announcements, and he in turn called the rabbi over. She asked me something - I believe it was if I was an international student - and I answered "yes", but in Hebrew - it's become almost an automatic thing to say yes or no (along with other random words) in Hebrew. But since I answered in Hebrew, she responded in Hebrew. I just looked at her and said, "I have no idea what you just said," which made everyone - including Annie and the announcer-guy - burst out laughing. The man thought maybe she didn't realize she switched to Hebrew, but she said she did, that it was because I said ken (yes). I guess that will teach me from throwing Hebrew around! I do try to use it as much as I can when I am out - I can request a non-smoking table and ask for 300 grams of cheese at the deli in Hebrew - but my vocabulary is still rather limited. I tried to order in Hebrew at the ice cream shop, but the guy lost patience with me immediately and was like "I do speak English." Oh well.

But anyways. I will be attending a Pesach seder, at the home of a couple who moved here from the US 30+ years ago. They are hosting some other students/young people and their daughter's (I think) family, including three children under nine. Jon is supposed to be hosting a seder but not on the first night of Pesach, so hopefully I will celebrate Pesach for the first time twice - and in Jerusalem! I am also supposed to go on a "trip to the desert" Thursday-Friday this week, although if more people don't sign up tomorrow it may be cancelled. :(

Randomness

So today I thought I would post some random reflections on living in Israel.

1. I'm an Old Maid

When I moved to Israel, I suddenly became an old maid. Back home, I didn't really give much thought to being a 24-year-old single female. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. I could focus on my studies and hang out with my friends - and when I decided I wanted to study at Hebrew U, I didn't have to convince a guy that moving halfway around the world was what was best for me and my vocational goals. But once I arrived here in Israel, I discovered that everyone is married. Okay, not really, but there is an overwhelming number of girls my age (and younger) who are married. Perhaps it is just more noticeable when a large percentage of the population are religious, which translates into head coverings for married females. Not to mention the abundance of pregnant women and small children. Walking through Hebrew U, I pass dozens of pregnant women and even several strollers each day. I can't imagine how they do it. I had a hard enough time juggling a boyfriend and school some days, let alone an entire family!

2. Neither Tourist nor Resident...

As a student studying abroad, I am in this weird position of being neither a tourist nor a resident. Perhaps it's the same for all students studying abroad, I don't know. But at least here in Israel, it seems as if everyone is either a tourist (or a pilgrim) or a resident (Israeli or Palestinian), which, of course, leaves all of us international students out. In my case, my Hebrew is so elementary that I pretty much fall under the category of "tourist" as far as the Israelis are concerned. A few weeks back, we read several articles about pilgrimage for my methodology class, which is what got me really thinking about all of this. My first trip here, I was a tourist. We had a tour guide and a tour bus and we went to all the tourist places, although we also went to some additional, less tourist-y places. But this time around (other than the few weeks my parents were here), I am not a tourist. I have taken up residence, even if I am not a resident. Perhaps I am a "pilgrim," though not in the traditional sense of the word. I am not here to visit all the churches and re-trace Jesus' footsteps, but I am here to deepen my connection with the Divine and to attempt to figure out my life (if that is even possible). For me, the holy is not so much in the pretty churches as it is in the archaeology, the landscape, the language.

3. Israel is on Israel's Time

Literally. Everyone else set their clocks ahead a few weeks ago, but no, not Israel. We waited until Thursday night/Friday morning to "spring forward." They also "fall back" at a different time - I believe it coincides with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. I was told there was likewise a religious reason for the delay in springing forward, but I don't know what that would be. Purim was a couple of weeks ago, and Pesach (Passover) isn't for a couple more weeks. But regardless, while the rest of you have adjusted to the time change, I am suffering through it now. And not too happy about it.

4. 5 Girls, 2 Toilets, 1 Shower = Bad Math

That's right, we are now a full-house. Benni moved in with a friend from Italy, and two undergrads from Chicago moved in shortly afterwards. The girls are nice, but 5 people sharing one apartment feels like cruel and unusual punishment to me. Okay, it's really not that bad, and so far I don't think there has been any issues with the toilets or the shower - or even the kitchen, where we are currently sharing one cooking pot with a broken handle. But I have a feeling this could get pretty old pretty fast, regardless of them being nice. 5 people, and especially 5 girls, in one apartment is just asking for trouble. Really wishing I would have been housed in one of the grad apartments (where they are 2 or 3 bedrooms each) right about now! There was a reason I never joined a sorority!

Okay, that's it for now. Have a lovely week everyone!