Pre-Jerusalem Musings

I'm off to Jerusalem this Friday on a field-trip with my journalism class. I don't know exactly what we're going to be doing, but it should be interesting. It's very different from Tel Aviv.


From here, it seems to be a pretty problematic civil rights place, and not just in terms of East Jerusalem, citizenship issues, and security. Here's a recent conflict over dance, windows, advertisements, and Orthodoxy.


I don't think I mentioned this before, but on our group trip to Jerusalem, some kids threw stones at someone in our group because of her attire. I started to write that I thought that she was dressed perfectly appropriately, but what I think is or is not adequate dress doesn't really matter. Stone-throwing matters. Children are growing up thinking that it is alright to inflict a cultural standard on someone by throwing stones. Not cool.

Thanksgiving

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving here in Israel!


Some of the more talented NYU-Tel Aviv students arranged to cook a Thanksgiving meal for us, and it turned out wonderfully. Turkey, gravy, vegetarian stuffing, potatoes, yummy soup, apple crumble, apple-spice cake with cream cheese frosting and coconut sprinkled on top... So much delish. And there were lovely decorations hung up, and it was altogether an excellent holiday.


Things that are hard to find in Israel: cranberries and canned pumpkin. It was also tricky kosher-wise. Since our dining hall is kosher, we ate the cake and crumble downstairs, and there was no milk or butter involved in the actual Thanksgiving meal.


Hope your Thanksgivings were all fun!

Jordan

Hi!


So I got my camera back! Yay! Thank you, lovely people in Jordan, for returning it.


Day 1: I took a bus from Tel Aviv to Eilat, and then a taxi to the border. The border was alarmingly empty. There was practically no one there apart from the skeleton staff. I knew that it was a fairly quiet border, but I was very surprised at how alone I was there, on both sides of the border. I actually went the wrong way a bit as I walked across, because there was absolutely no one to follow.


It surprised me how different it felt to be on one side rather than the other, when it was a physical difference of maybe 100 yards. The female Israeli border person gave me a piece of Bazooka bubblegum (the comic was in Hebrew! I have no idea what it said, but I'm sure it was hilarious) and the male Jordanian border person asked for my email address and phone number. Being the ingenue that I am, I thought that he wanted them for something security related--after biometrics, email addresses seem so impersonal somehow. When I saw that he was writing it down on a scrap of paper, I realized my mistake. Fortunately, gmail seems to be fairly unpopular in Jordan, and no one has ever successfully called my phone from outside of Israel. Absurdly confusing area codes and country calling codes for the win!


On the other side, I was bundled into a cab, and taken to my hotel. It was fairly alarmingly budget, but it had a gorgeous view. Specifically, this one:

I walked around Aqaba a bit. Went back to my hotel and put on more clothes. Then walked around some more. I made friends with a man selling what I strongly suspect were bootleg DVDs, and I failed to speak Arabic well. Altogether, I had a nice evening, but I felt like half of what I said to anyone and everyone I met was that I did not, in fact, want to go on a private evening trip to South Beach, no matter how beautiful, free, or otherwise nice it might be. And actually, South Beach is supposed to be great, but now I'm afraid my brain has associated it with the-place-men-take-foreign-girls-whom-they-think-will-be-easy-to-take-advantage-of, or something like that. Anyways, I did not go to South Beach.


Next day was Wadi Rum. I had no trouble getting there--I split a cab with two European tourists I met at the Aqaba bus station. Wadi Rum... such a weird experience. It was gorgeous, but... Hmm. The taxi dropped us off at the Visitor's Centre. My arrangements were to spend the night at a tourist-y camp out in the actual basin, and I was told to call when I arrived, which I did, but when no one picked up, I decided that I had all day to figure out how to get to camp, and in the meantime, I wanted to ride a camel, because I was a tourist and that's just what tourists do. I certainly wasn't about to go sit in a 4X4, at any rate.


One of the men hanging around and being a semi-official guide mentioned camels in his spiel, so after making absolutely positively sure that we could end the camel tour at the camp that I had booked an paid for in advance, I agreed to go with him. He was very nice, and after giving me tea and breakfast (yum) and a camel and a kid to lead the camel, sent me on my way.

It was all very nice. Me, on a camel, traversing a rather trammeled tourist attraction. It was very beautiful, of course, and I enjoyed waving at the occasional 4X4 of jostled tourists. Clearly I had made the right choice.


Unexpectedly, a jeep pulled up on one side, and the person in it revealed himself to be the owner of the camp where I was going to stay that night. He made it clear that there was a problem with my going with another guide, although I was not exactly sure why. The kid leading my camel called the person I had hired as my guide earlier in the day. About half a second later, I found myself sitting on a camel with a jeep keeping pace on either side. It was a fantastically awkward moment, and I had no idea what to do. Everything worked out more or less all right, but I wound up hanging around in the town for a couple of hours, which was supremely boring.


But after that: camel, take two!

(I have a small bag around my front, which is why I look a little odd. My water was being annoyingly sloshy when I left it in back. Also, camels walk really really quietly.)


I had an overwhelmingly nice evening, although once again, there was far too much of the harassment occurring. It was nice to see the stars, and dinner was delicious. I wish I had taken a picture of how it was prepared, but think slow cooked under the sand with fire. Mental image? Maybe? Maybe not? Anyways.


Next day, Petra! The other tourists and I returned to the village in a 4X4 (ha! I knew I didn't want to pay for a 4X4 tour) and then I hopped on the minibus to Petra.


A note about public transportation in Jordan: there is none. Well, okay, exaggeration, but barely. I spent an absurd amount of money on taxis and private cars because the minibus system is very casual and it's hard to get information on them pinned down. People hitchhike, but that didn't sound like the best idea ever for me personally. Safety first!


Petra! The minibus dropped us off, and there happened to be a shuttle to the hotel I had reservations for waiting for one of the other passengers, so I hopped on. Lucky break for me! I quite liked the place, and it is the only place where I stayed that I fully recommend, so here goes: Valentine Inn, stay there.


A woman was working behind the counter, and I was surprised by how glad I was. Yay! All you want from me is my money! Such a relief. I found it almost hard to address the man who was also working there just because he was a man. Plus, she was practically the first non-foreign woman I had seen in days.


That afternoon, I walked to Petra. After bravely paying the exorbitant admission fee (77 USD) I went in. On a horse because some guy wouldn't let me alone until I rode his horse, and also because I like horses.  I walked through the Siq:

And around other areas too. I made friends with a very nice guy with a donkey. Can I just say that it is impossible to look cool while on a donkey? I did my best. If you want to see the awesomeness that is a donkey, email me, and I'll send you a picture. I don't really want to put pictures with my face in them up. Needlessly paranoid? Yup.


Anyways. We wound up with the following view, which is fairly iconic, but I never would have found my way up here by myself.

Soon after this, we went and had "Bedouin whiskey" (delicious tea with enough sugar in it to rot the teeth of a dental hygienist in two swallows) in a cave. In a cave. So cool.


That evening, I went to my new friend's family home for dinner, which was very good. It was chicken and rice and vegetables, all served on a big round platter. We ate sitting on the floor with our fingers. (I am still vegetarian, but I hate to be rude. My stomach was not pleased with me.)


I met some more people and then rode on another horse before being driven back to Wadi Musa (the tourist town adjacent to Petra. It's where my hotel was).


Then back again to Petra the next morning!


In the afternoon, I went on to Amman, where I spent an uneventful night, and then the next day I crossed the border back to Israel. That part of the trip was fun, too, but I can't say that I have any particularly fantastic stories from it. Mostly just good memories.


I keep remembering things to say, but I suppose I should save something for over Christmas, right?


All in all, it was one of the best trips I've ever been on, and an excellent first foray into a foreign country alone. But I don't think that I'll be going back there while Israel is my home for two reasons: one, travel is expensive and I'm fantastically good at getting ripped off, and two, because I hate being addressed as foreign female before being addressed as a person.

A Fun Story and a Local Legend

Hi all!


I'm back from a group trip to the North. It was fun, although not as exciting as the last trip. This trip was less hiking and bike-riding and swimming, and more going to historical sites and wishing that I had read up on them first so that I would have more of a framework for discussion. That being said, the sites we visited were really interesting. In three days, we saw a castle ruin that had been part of the extended defenses of Damascus during the Crusades, an old wall that had protected Acre/Acco from Napoleon's advances, and the ruins of an old village that Israel confiscated from its Arab Maronite inhabitants about 50 years ago, and has yet to return (although the families of the villagers still go to their church every Sunday). So much history in such a tiny geographical area!


And now, for what I promised in the post title: a story!


Today in my Arabic class, we were talking about our trip, and my Arabic teacher shared that when he was growing up, the Pope visited the Holy Land (for those who want dates, this is 1964). The Pope visited Nazareth, and everyone knew that he was going to Cana next, so the people of Rayna--Christians and Muslims alike--waited outside in the hope that he would stop in their town on the way. Of course, he didn't stop, but just kept going, and that was that. Now, apparently, there is a local legend in Rayna that at one point, on his way to Nazareth, Jesus came through Rayna on a donkey. The local explanation for why the Pope didn't stop there too? Some people from Rayna stole Jesus' donkey's saddle.

Clean-up

Yesterday was lovely.


First, breakfast. Then Jaffa to help fix up Abu Al Abed Restaurant. Then half an hour scrubbing paint off my hands (how is paint so sticky?? The bus driver on the way back wouldn't take my money cause it was icky and blue. Which is, of course, fine by me. Future money-saving strategy: coat my hands with paint before walking out the door). Then afternoon raininess!


I think there were 7 or 8 of us who went down to the restaurant and helped the owners get ready for re-opening today. At this point, there was still a lot of work to be done. Absolutely everything needed to either be repainted or scrubbed down; smoke really gets everywhere, even from a relatively small fire. An (absurdly) huge number of dishes needed to be done, also because of smoke. They were also putting up new paneling in the kitchen, over the old.


One of us broke a video camera and documented everything, so if she posts it in an edited, non-embarrassing form on the internet somewhere, I'll link to it. Really, though, it's going to be embarrassing if I'm in it at all.


Her: "What did you feel when you first walked in the restaurant today?"
Me: "Umm... nothing?" By which I meant, I felt better than I felt when I first heard about it, since actually being there on the scene meant that I had the opportunity to make things less bad, but thought that she was at least somewhat going for a shock value angle. Oh well. Eloquence can't happen to everybody.

Jordan Observations and Things

So, I am going to go back and finish talking about the Negev and Jerusalem, but for now I feel like jumping forward to Jordan before I forget everything.


First of all, it is exceptionally confusing to be addressed as "she." It took me a while to figure out that the man at the first budget hotel I was staying at was actually trying to ask me questions about myself.


Him: "She is from America?"
Me: "Is she? ... Oh! Yes! Yes, she---I mean, I am from America."


I encountered other variations on this. People talking about me to other people used masculine pronouns occasionally. People told me that they learned their English from talking to tourists, and it was interesting to hear the mistakes people make when they have never sat down and been taught.


Everyone I spoke to knew English, but since I stuck mainly to the tourist-y areas... I had no trouble getting around with English, anyway. Although I did try to use Arabic a little. This is how those conversations went:


Me: *laborious, slow sounds resembling words in an order resembling a sentence*
Them: "Very nice, very nice!" *Proceed to speak in English*


It was helpful hearing Arabic though--and I heard a lot of it. Jordanian Arabic is much much much closer to the Arabic that I study than Egyptian Arabic (which is relevant because Disney movies are dubbed into Egyptian Arabic, which may not seem relevant, but it totally is. I think.).


Anyways, I'm going to do many more posts on Jordan, so if there are any questions, feel free to leave a comment.

Re Last Post

Question was how Israeli media treats right-wing attacks against minorities.


I'm really not sure. The article I linked to in the last post is from a very reputable Israeli news outlet (where a bunch of people from NYU-Tel Aviv intern). I can't say anything about Hebrew-language media, and actually I read mostly Aljazeera (I will say that Aljazeera's slant wasn't particularly apparent to me until I came to Israel).


Just in terms of general attitudes: people talk about Israel's army, and how every Israeli serves, but that's really not the case. Almost every non-ultra-Orthodox Jewish Israeli serves. Arabs are not required to serve, even if they are citizens. The Druze are drafted, but their inclusion was more or less at their request. Point being: what does it mean to be Israeli? What does it mean to be a non-Jewish citizen of a Jewish state?


My favorite explanation of the phrase "Jewish democracy" is that Israel is a home for all the Jews of the world--but for the people living in Israel, it is a pure democracy. This explanation allows for Law of Return, while preventing second class citizenship for non-Jews. But this explanation is not a reality of life in Israel. Life is not equal--and many people are pretty positive that it shouldn't be.


I can ask around about media, and see what people say. I know that the first week I was here, I listened to a conversation between some of my professors about the place of media. One of them felt like the media overstepped its boundaries when it promoted the tent city protest--he didn't have a problem with the protest itself, necessarily, but he felt like the media should not actively undermine the government. Couldn't say how popular this viewpoint is, but it does seem different than the US, where some rival media companies pander for attention through scathing anti-administration propaganda. We're all about the never-satisfied-with-our-government thing.


Something to be aware of when talking about Israel: it's really easy to turn things into "Jews" and "Arabs," but that's not really useful. Yes, there are Jews and Arabs. But more specifically, there are Druze, Bedouin, Haredim, Ashkenazi, Mizrahi, Orthodox Jews, Sunni Muslims, Arab Christians, secular and cultural Jews... There are people who might describe themselves as Palestinian, or Arab, or Arab Israeli, or Israeli Arab, or Israeli, or Arab Christian, or Arab living in Israel, or Palestinian living in Israel. Israel is not homogenous--ethnically, culturally, religiously, or in values.


In any event. I'll ask people I meet what they think about the media, but I can't promise a balanced report since I somewhat doubt that I'll be able to get a perfectly even spread of political opinions from the people I ask. But I'll make an effort!

Price Tag

Today in my Arabic class we were checking fill-in-the-blank exercises, and one of the sentences mentioned tabouli and hummus. This reminded my teacher of something that happened two days ago in Jaffa, specifically this. According to my teacher, the fire was alarmingly close to the gas line, so it's lucky that there wasn't an explosion.


I've eaten at this restaurant. NYU-Tel Aviv takes incoming students there for the meet-the-faculty dinner.


I know when I write, I try to avoid inflammatory words like "terrorist," but it really bothers me that the strongest word the article uses is "vandal." Somehow I don't think that "vandalism" encompasses hate crimes.