I accidentally posted the last post prematurely while attempting to save it. So if you're just now reading this, the first half of my story can be found underneath this post.
Anywhos.
So I set out from Niva's apartment and headed towards Jaffa, a city that is roughly 3,000 years old and has been incorporated into the expanding borders of Tel-Aviv. It was during this walk that I began to fall in love with this city. It was slow and gradual, but the more I saw of the city, its diversity, varying architectural styles, and the attitude of the locals, the more I was reminded of the first time I walked through New Orleans. I started out on Rothschild street, a tree-lined boulevard with a large sidewalk running along the median, dotted with cafes, people on bikes, and young hipsters talking to middle-aged women in bright red lipstick and floral dresses. As one walks, this slowly gives way to the older part of the city, with French-style apartment buildings and boutiques, small green parks with lily ponds and street performers. Once I arrived at Jaffa, the largely Arab population were selling old furniture and knick-knacks in hastily constructed markets, with cafes and stores spilling out into the streets. Once you go up to the upper part of Jaffa, the scene opens up and you see white sand beaches with a perfect view of the absurdity of Tel-Aviv. As you walk along the beach you see the ancient mixing with the unashamedly progressive, as the glass buildings cover the entire beach front, but this bizarre mix seemed healthy there, even natural.
After stopping to do a little shopping and reading at a cafe, I met up with Niva and Yotam at a vegan restaurant, where they were meeting up with a French couch surfer who wanted to talk to them about Tel-Aviv because she was making a documentary about the city. She kept apologizing for her poor English (even though it seemed great to me) and we all talked about our impresions of the city and Israeli society in general. Niva said something that seemed to articulate everything I was feeling. She said that people think that Israeli's constantly live in fear, that they are focused solely on the next bombing or the Palestinian issue. But they aren't. They have lives, like anyone else in Europe or the US, who struggle to make ends meet, go out with their friends, who work hard in their education and feel a deep bond with their language and their identity, even though they may not all be observant Jews. Granted, this is not what she said verbatim, but the basic message is there. Niva and Yotam are the epitome of this. They are staunch environmentalists and have devoted their lives to both the practice and education of these issues. To do this is a luxury, not something present in a "war-torn" country, where people are constantly thinking about where the next bomb has been placed - the environment can wait. You get this same sense looking around at the Buddha Burger, where, once again, young hipsters and the older crowd were concerned with eating healthy and being with friends. Even if their fears were in the back of their minds, they in no way were governed by it. People move on.
We left and said goodbye to the French girl (I forget her name right now) and we walked back to their apartment (it wasn't until we got back that I realized we had been sitting at the restaurant for nearly 3 1/2 hours). Niva and I sat on the back porch and were talking and smoking cigarettes. We started on the issue of films, somehow found our way to the drinking age, to colonialism, then weaved our way to discussing pubs. I could tell she suddenly felt anxious.
"Thats it! We're going to a pub."
Yotam said he was tired, Niva reprimanded him, and he relented. I said it was almost 2 A.M. (last call in Chicago). Will the pubs even be open?
"What are you talking about? They stay open until the last person leaves."
We arrived at a flashy and loud bar not too far from their apartment. The music was loud and fluctuated from Israeli to American songs. We talked over a couple of beers, told them about life in the States, and took a shot of a local alcohol (tastes like licorice). We stumbled back and sat on their couch, all the while translating songs from Hebrew into English for me (very depressing - I dont recommend it). We said goodnight and I got settled on the couch. It was now 630 in the morning.
The next morning, after saying goodbye to Eddie (he was going to Jerusalem) and to Alex (he was going to stay with a friend and try to find some work in Tel-Aviv before moving on), Niva and I went to a market. One of her aforementioned odd-jobs is to dress-up, go to this market (only open on Friday and Tuesday) to hand out flyers for a dance company. On this day, she decided to go as a mime. We, unsurprisingly, caught the glance of not a few people. A hastily and poorly-dressed American and a mime walking down the street together I suppose would be a strange sight anywhere. I'm sure theres going to be a picture online soon of me walking down the streets of Tel-Aviv with a mime soon enough. The market is like the Flea Market in New Orleans, where people sell home-grown and handmade crafts for people to buy, complete with odd characters and street performers. After seeing what was perhaps the best trapeze show I had ever seen (as if Im some expert), we headed back. I walked around the city for a while and came back just in time for a shabbat (sabbath) dinner they had prepared. Niva's sister and one of their friends came to join us. The friends name was Jenny, she was from London and loved to talk about astrology (she would end discussions of people with "oh, hes a great virgo" or "I can't stand Taurus men" - which I happen to be). After having a long conversation with Niva's sister on the balcony about Jerusalem and life in the US, we said our goodbyes. Yotam, who was sitting on a giant plastic ball, said he had eaten too many hash cookies and was going to bed. I was exhausted also and promptly fell asleep. The following morning I said my goodbyes to them, as I had to head to Jerusalem to meet up with Eddie. I left then for the bus station (through what must have been Tel-Aviv's Chinatown) and got on a small van and left behind the small slice of home that I knew I would not feel again for a very long time.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Eid in the Land of the Jews.
I woke up this morning, not to my alarm clock, but instead to the sun blinding my eyes as it rose outside of my window. In other words, I slept through my first class and, thinking that it was not worth an hour and a half commute to go to my 2nd class (which is essentially worthless), I decided to stay at home today and do some other more important things, like spend hours on YouTube and update my blog. So here we are.
As some of you know, I had a week-long break for the end of Ramadan known as Eid al-Fitr. Being sensitive to Muslim sentiment, my roommate and I decided to celebrate this holiday with a trip to Israel. Monday night, we caught a bus to Taba. The bus trip was not nearly as dramatic as the one returning from Dahab (except for the Egyptian man who sat next to me and, conversing in Arabic, told me he liked to look at American girls on his computer. Thanking Allah that my iPod was recently charged, I said it had been a long day and fell asleep). After arriving in Taba and going through a relatively smooth entry into Israel, we arrived in Eilat, the Israeli border town with Jordan and Egypt. The change was dramatic, to say the least. We had come from one of the most conservative areas in the Middle East (the Sinai peninsula) into a land of girls in bikinis and recycling containers scattered along a beautiful beach. As we were crossing the street to buy some cigarettes the most amazing thing happened. The oncoming car stopped to let us pass.
I am going to stop now to let that fact sink in. THE CAR STOPPED. FOR US. TO CROSS THE FREAKING STREET. I was floored. I hadn't just crossed into a different country, but into a completely different part of the world, with a culture so distinct from the one I had just come out of, it was as if I had just arrived in Europe. We hailed a cab [with doors, A/C, and a meter(!)]. We asked him to take us to the bus station so we could get to Tel-Aviv. He informed us that the bus station was closed. Rosh Hashana, he said. The holidays are never-ending I thought. We told him to take us to the nearest and best hostel. After arriving and checking in at the hostel, we met our fellow hosteller, a South African named Alex. He had been stuck in Eilat for 3 days for this holiday, which was the Jewish New Year. He showed us the one convenience store in town that was open, bought and made some pasta in the hostel with two other AUC girls (I forget their names - if you met them, you would realize why). It was now 9 AM and we fell asleep in our beds.
That night, since the holiday was now officially over, Eddie and I decided to celebrate the end of Ramadan/Rosh Hashana with a trip to the local pub. As we were sitting outside drinking, eating nachos, and watching the Champions League game on a big screen, an older woman who was sitting behind us turned around and asked us where we were from. She was from Jerusalem and was in Eilat for a short vacation before she returned to her job as an artist. We asked her about what life was like in Jerusalem, being an Israeli. She related to us one anecdote after another.
Here's what stuck out to me.
-One day, while on a bus back home from work, she saw a huge blast in front of her. The station in front of her had just been blown to pieces. Not a second later, a second blast shook the bus, this time from behind. The station behind her was on fire. Two suicide bombers had planned attacks on these two frequently used bus stations - with her right between both of them.
- She had been kidnapped by Palestinians in Jericho (in the West Bank) while she was soldier on patrol there. Her kidnappers put her in captivity and were not able to get out a single word before Eliza (the woman's name) told them "The entire Israeli army knows where I am. If you touch one hair on my head, one single piece of skin on my body, the town of Jericho will cease to exist." (Judging by Israel's response to their soldiers being kidnapped by the Lebanese group Hezbollah in 2006, I am inclined to believe that she was not kidding). She was released 5 minutes later.
- After asking her if she had ever been to Egypt, she related to us a story about when she went to Taba (the town we were in that morning). After arriving, an Egyptian started a conversation with her. She told him she was an Israeli and only spoke a little bit of English and Hebrew. The man began speaking to some of his friends in Arabic (which, unbeknownst to them, she spoke fluently) and suggested that they take her down to Sharm al-Shiekh and kill her. She told them that she had to go to the bathroom, snuck out through the window, called the border station and started running back to the border. "Like a mouse," she said, laughing.
This was enough for one night. We said goodbye, went down to the beach and drank a little bit more and climbed back up the hill to our hostel and fell asleep. The next morning, Alex and Eddie and I got some coffee and were on the first bus to Tel-Aviv. The drive was long and stunningly gorgeous, with a quasi-desert landscape flanked by a never-ending stream of mountains. Needless to say, the bus was far better than anything I could imagine in Egypt. We arrived in Tel-Aviv that evening (the two girls lacking personality in-tow) and we found a decent hostel. Walking around, I felt that Tel-Aviv was exactly what I had envisioned it being- a row of glass, high-rise buildings with Western restaurants and clubs scattered throughout. After grabbing a pizza panini type of thing, the rest of the group wanted to buy a bottle of vodka and go to the beach. Having had enough of the beach-drinking binges, I decided to part from them and go to a nearby English pub.
The pub is perfect place to ascertain the demographic make-up of a city (unless it happens to be a relatively conservative city - in which case you will only get demoralized expats and local students). I started talking to the bartender, who was Australian. The other bartender, American and, the third, South African. The man next to me started talking about how he has all the Beatles albums. I said it was impressive. He replied that every time he comes in to the pub, they always play it for him.
"You must know the bartenders pretty well then," I said.
"You could say that. I own this bar."
He was from Chicago.
Two young men then sat down next to me and we quickly bonded over our collective cheering for FC Barcelona, who were playing on the big screen. After a dramatic win over Shaktar, we started talking. "You're an American?" I responded yes. "And you're... a football (soccer) fan?" Yes, I said. "Wow." This seems to be the international response for anyone learning that I am an American soccer fan. One of the guys was celebrating because he had just completed his military service.
"How was it?"
"Pretty boring."
"Oh yeah?"
*pause*
"No, I did some pretty important things."
*pause*
"Yeah?" I asked excitedly.
"Yeah...but I can't talk about it."
Shit.
After being given a free shot from the bartenders, I decided that the day had been long enough and I went back to the hostel.
After realizing that the hostel was going to drain my money and that I was looking for an experience in Israel that was not made up exclusively of getting drunk on the beach with Americans, I decided to give couch surfing a try. For those not in the know, couch surfing is an international online community of people who give up their couches to other members who are traveling through their city. In other words, its a great way to save money (its free) and to meet the locals. And hey, I figured, anyone willing to let complete strangers sleep on their couch have to be interesting people, if nothing else. I created a profile and sent out a few messages then went to sleep.
I woke up to two responses to the messages I had sent out, one saying that he was not in Tel-Aviv at the moment and the other message saying that they (it was a couple) would be happy to host me. After getting coffee with Alex and Eddie, I went to a payphone and called Yotam. He gave me directions to a hummos place he and his girlfriend (Niva) were going to go eat at. After getting lost looking for it, I was about to ask for directions before I heard a voice call out my name behind me. It was them. We sat down and introduced ourselves. Yotam was of average height, with pale skin and shoulder length hair. He is an ecology student currently training to become a tour guide in Tel-Aviv. He smiled and laughed a lot and spoke perfect English. His girlfriend was short with long hair and sharp features. She takes circus, dance, and theater classes and works odd jobs here and there (more on this later). After Yotam left for work, Niva took me back to their apartment, let me put my things down and showed me a map of the city and told me about some of the main things to do in the city. She had to go study for a sailing exam (I couldnt keep everything she does straight), so could not go with me, and she set me loose.
As some of you know, I had a week-long break for the end of Ramadan known as Eid al-Fitr. Being sensitive to Muslim sentiment, my roommate and I decided to celebrate this holiday with a trip to Israel. Monday night, we caught a bus to Taba. The bus trip was not nearly as dramatic as the one returning from Dahab (except for the Egyptian man who sat next to me and, conversing in Arabic, told me he liked to look at American girls on his computer. Thanking Allah that my iPod was recently charged, I said it had been a long day and fell asleep). After arriving in Taba and going through a relatively smooth entry into Israel, we arrived in Eilat, the Israeli border town with Jordan and Egypt. The change was dramatic, to say the least. We had come from one of the most conservative areas in the Middle East (the Sinai peninsula) into a land of girls in bikinis and recycling containers scattered along a beautiful beach. As we were crossing the street to buy some cigarettes the most amazing thing happened. The oncoming car stopped to let us pass.
I am going to stop now to let that fact sink in. THE CAR STOPPED. FOR US. TO CROSS THE FREAKING STREET. I was floored. I hadn't just crossed into a different country, but into a completely different part of the world, with a culture so distinct from the one I had just come out of, it was as if I had just arrived in Europe. We hailed a cab [with doors, A/C, and a meter(!)]. We asked him to take us to the bus station so we could get to Tel-Aviv. He informed us that the bus station was closed. Rosh Hashana, he said. The holidays are never-ending I thought. We told him to take us to the nearest and best hostel. After arriving and checking in at the hostel, we met our fellow hosteller, a South African named Alex. He had been stuck in Eilat for 3 days for this holiday, which was the Jewish New Year. He showed us the one convenience store in town that was open, bought and made some pasta in the hostel with two other AUC girls (I forget their names - if you met them, you would realize why). It was now 9 AM and we fell asleep in our beds.
That night, since the holiday was now officially over, Eddie and I decided to celebrate the end of Ramadan/Rosh Hashana with a trip to the local pub. As we were sitting outside drinking, eating nachos, and watching the Champions League game on a big screen, an older woman who was sitting behind us turned around and asked us where we were from. She was from Jerusalem and was in Eilat for a short vacation before she returned to her job as an artist. We asked her about what life was like in Jerusalem, being an Israeli. She related to us one anecdote after another.
Here's what stuck out to me.
-One day, while on a bus back home from work, she saw a huge blast in front of her. The station in front of her had just been blown to pieces. Not a second later, a second blast shook the bus, this time from behind. The station behind her was on fire. Two suicide bombers had planned attacks on these two frequently used bus stations - with her right between both of them.
- She had been kidnapped by Palestinians in Jericho (in the West Bank) while she was soldier on patrol there. Her kidnappers put her in captivity and were not able to get out a single word before Eliza (the woman's name) told them "The entire Israeli army knows where I am. If you touch one hair on my head, one single piece of skin on my body, the town of Jericho will cease to exist." (Judging by Israel's response to their soldiers being kidnapped by the Lebanese group Hezbollah in 2006, I am inclined to believe that she was not kidding). She was released 5 minutes later.
- After asking her if she had ever been to Egypt, she related to us a story about when she went to Taba (the town we were in that morning). After arriving, an Egyptian started a conversation with her. She told him she was an Israeli and only spoke a little bit of English and Hebrew. The man began speaking to some of his friends in Arabic (which, unbeknownst to them, she spoke fluently) and suggested that they take her down to Sharm al-Shiekh and kill her. She told them that she had to go to the bathroom, snuck out through the window, called the border station and started running back to the border. "Like a mouse," she said, laughing.
This was enough for one night. We said goodbye, went down to the beach and drank a little bit more and climbed back up the hill to our hostel and fell asleep. The next morning, Alex and Eddie and I got some coffee and were on the first bus to Tel-Aviv. The drive was long and stunningly gorgeous, with a quasi-desert landscape flanked by a never-ending stream of mountains. Needless to say, the bus was far better than anything I could imagine in Egypt. We arrived in Tel-Aviv that evening (the two girls lacking personality in-tow) and we found a decent hostel. Walking around, I felt that Tel-Aviv was exactly what I had envisioned it being- a row of glass, high-rise buildings with Western restaurants and clubs scattered throughout. After grabbing a pizza panini type of thing, the rest of the group wanted to buy a bottle of vodka and go to the beach. Having had enough of the beach-drinking binges, I decided to part from them and go to a nearby English pub.
The pub is perfect place to ascertain the demographic make-up of a city (unless it happens to be a relatively conservative city - in which case you will only get demoralized expats and local students). I started talking to the bartender, who was Australian. The other bartender, American and, the third, South African. The man next to me started talking about how he has all the Beatles albums. I said it was impressive. He replied that every time he comes in to the pub, they always play it for him.
"You must know the bartenders pretty well then," I said.
"You could say that. I own this bar."
He was from Chicago.
Two young men then sat down next to me and we quickly bonded over our collective cheering for FC Barcelona, who were playing on the big screen. After a dramatic win over Shaktar, we started talking. "You're an American?" I responded yes. "And you're... a football (soccer) fan?" Yes, I said. "Wow." This seems to be the international response for anyone learning that I am an American soccer fan. One of the guys was celebrating because he had just completed his military service.
"How was it?"
"Pretty boring."
"Oh yeah?"
*pause*
"No, I did some pretty important things."
*pause*
"Yeah?" I asked excitedly.
"Yeah...but I can't talk about it."
Shit.
After being given a free shot from the bartenders, I decided that the day had been long enough and I went back to the hostel.
After realizing that the hostel was going to drain my money and that I was looking for an experience in Israel that was not made up exclusively of getting drunk on the beach with Americans, I decided to give couch surfing a try. For those not in the know, couch surfing is an international online community of people who give up their couches to other members who are traveling through their city. In other words, its a great way to save money (its free) and to meet the locals. And hey, I figured, anyone willing to let complete strangers sleep on their couch have to be interesting people, if nothing else. I created a profile and sent out a few messages then went to sleep.
I woke up to two responses to the messages I had sent out, one saying that he was not in Tel-Aviv at the moment and the other message saying that they (it was a couple) would be happy to host me. After getting coffee with Alex and Eddie, I went to a payphone and called Yotam. He gave me directions to a hummos place he and his girlfriend (Niva) were going to go eat at. After getting lost looking for it, I was about to ask for directions before I heard a voice call out my name behind me. It was them. We sat down and introduced ourselves. Yotam was of average height, with pale skin and shoulder length hair. He is an ecology student currently training to become a tour guide in Tel-Aviv. He smiled and laughed a lot and spoke perfect English. His girlfriend was short with long hair and sharp features. She takes circus, dance, and theater classes and works odd jobs here and there (more on this later). After Yotam left for work, Niva took me back to their apartment, let me put my things down and showed me a map of the city and told me about some of the main things to do in the city. She had to go study for a sailing exam (I couldnt keep everything she does straight), so could not go with me, and she set me loose.
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