Sunday, July 27, 2008
Stomach Flu Strikes at the Home of Jesus
It all started off so well. One of the dudes on the trip, Justin (Preemptive Mother Strike: No, I am not interested in Justin, we are only friends, you are no closer to grandbabies...) and I rented a car for a two day extravaganza to the North and then back to Galilee to see some more of the Jesus stuff.
First stop, Caesarea, Herod the Great's manmade harbor and city during the Roman times -- the aqueduct is still a standing.
An hour farther, about ten miles from the Lebanon border, the fortified city of Akko. It's crazy. People are literally still living in small rooms and parts of the castle that has been home, over the centuries, to Greeks, Romans, Crusaders, Arabs, Ottomans, British and finally the Israelis. A few years ago, a woman was complaining about a clog in her plumbing, and when the city investigated they found that the real problem was a forgotten underground escape tunnel built by the Knights during the Crusades and running about 150 yards from one part of the castle to the other.
Manhole covers in Akko.
Sparkly dinners in Haifa, a large Arab and Jew port city.
Big breakfast and big plans the next day beginning with the Mount of Beatitudes where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount. I was only feeling partially queasy at this point, like I'd had too much coffee or broken one of the many rules of the Mount, like no martinis or handguns.
Fortunately, the view was a beaut. Over the hills, and onto the Sea of Galilee.
But when we got to Capernaum, that' s when I realized this was more than funky coffee. When you can't help but to leave your breakfast on the side of the road next to Jesus' place, at the McDonalds and two gas stations on the way home, something is definitely wrong.
We were able to make it to one more site, probably not THE site, but a dusty path that led to the Jordan river before an altogether too long a drive home and two days in bed.
I've since recovered, but I'd still like a bit of sympathy.
First stop, Caesarea, Herod the Great's manmade harbor and city during the Roman times -- the aqueduct is still a standing.
An hour farther, about ten miles from the Lebanon border, the fortified city of Akko. It's crazy. People are literally still living in small rooms and parts of the castle that has been home, over the centuries, to Greeks, Romans, Crusaders, Arabs, Ottomans, British and finally the Israelis. A few years ago, a woman was complaining about a clog in her plumbing, and when the city investigated they found that the real problem was a forgotten underground escape tunnel built by the Knights during the Crusades and running about 150 yards from one part of the castle to the other.
Manhole covers in Akko.
Sparkly dinners in Haifa, a large Arab and Jew port city.
Big breakfast and big plans the next day beginning with the Mount of Beatitudes where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount. I was only feeling partially queasy at this point, like I'd had too much coffee or broken one of the many rules of the Mount, like no martinis or handguns.
Fortunately, the view was a beaut. Over the hills, and onto the Sea of Galilee.
But when we got to Capernaum, that' s when I realized this was more than funky coffee. When you can't help but to leave your breakfast on the side of the road next to Jesus' place, at the McDonalds and two gas stations on the way home, something is definitely wrong.
We were able to make it to one more site, probably not THE site, but a dusty path that led to the Jordan river before an altogether too long a drive home and two days in bed.
I've since recovered, but I'd still like a bit of sympathy.
Friday, July 25, 2008
A Girl walks into a Bar
It sounds like the start of a (usually mediocre) joke, but it's actually the beginning of last weekend. I wanted to travel, but most of the kids on my program booked trips that included far too much time on overpriced buses, on someone else's time schedule, at spots where a local wouldn't be caught dead. So, I respectfully declined in order to save my sanity and resolved that I would rent a car and travel alone if I had to.
Instead, I met an Israeli girl named Flame (Shalhevit in Hebrew, which means Flame in English) while out with friends and by the end of our ten minute conversation we decided that we would head to Galilee together. As I have said to my Mama on many occasions, "Your baby knows how to make friends." It was a risky proposition, I admit. In fact, when Flame and her friend Billie picked me up at the hotel to start our adventure, the first question they asked was, "Why don't any of your friends want to travel with you? Is there something wrong with you that we should know about... ?" I wasn't quite sure how to respond.
We stopped in Nazareth for dinner, at this 120 year old Arabic home that had been restored and made into a restaurant. We dined on the patio, in the warm air and low lighting with a Muslim call to prayer in the background.
The next day, we found a quiet beach at Galilee and sunned and soaked most of the day. I kept trying to remind myself of the importance of this site -- the walking on water, the fish and the loaves, the baptism of Jesus -- but it still felt a bit like a lake, any lake, a regular lake -- except for these beautifully intricate white shells that littered the beach. The Galilee is lower than it's "ever" been at the moment, about 300 feet from the old shoreline, so lots of what was under is now uncovered.
Lunch was at an old kibbutz turned tourist trap. I was especially impressed that even this duck was wearing a yarmulke for the tourists.
And, they don't skimp when you order St. Peter's Fish.
On the way home, we got a bit lost, and it was the first time in Israel I have actually come in contact with what we see on CNN. I snapped this cave through the window on the drive, and understood how the Dead Sea Scrolls could have gone undiscovered for so long. Would you choose to go into a cave like that !?
Instead, I met an Israeli girl named Flame (Shalhevit in Hebrew, which means Flame in English) while out with friends and by the end of our ten minute conversation we decided that we would head to Galilee together. As I have said to my Mama on many occasions, "Your baby knows how to make friends." It was a risky proposition, I admit. In fact, when Flame and her friend Billie picked me up at the hotel to start our adventure, the first question they asked was, "Why don't any of your friends want to travel with you? Is there something wrong with you that we should know about... ?" I wasn't quite sure how to respond.
We stopped in Nazareth for dinner, at this 120 year old Arabic home that had been restored and made into a restaurant. We dined on the patio, in the warm air and low lighting with a Muslim call to prayer in the background.
The next day, we found a quiet beach at Galilee and sunned and soaked most of the day. I kept trying to remind myself of the importance of this site -- the walking on water, the fish and the loaves, the baptism of Jesus -- but it still felt a bit like a lake, any lake, a regular lake -- except for these beautifully intricate white shells that littered the beach. The Galilee is lower than it's "ever" been at the moment, about 300 feet from the old shoreline, so lots of what was under is now uncovered.
Lunch was at an old kibbutz turned tourist trap. I was especially impressed that even this duck was wearing a yarmulke for the tourists.
And, they don't skimp when you order St. Peter's Fish.
On the way home, we got a bit lost, and it was the first time in Israel I have actually come in contact with what we see on CNN. I snapped this cave through the window on the drive, and understood how the Dead Sea Scrolls could have gone undiscovered for so long. Would you choose to go into a cave like that !?
Friday, July 18, 2008
Bar Ilan and Boney Rears
I haven't sat in a wooden seat like this since, well, I don't think I have ever sat in a wooden seat quite like this. And, though my back half is well cushioned, it still hasn't saved me from discomfort. Maybe it's the Israeli way of keeping you awake in your seat.
School is held Sunday (the first day of the Israeli work week) through Wednesday at Bar Ilan University, and half day on Thursdays at the hotel conference room. The bus to Bar Ilan can take anywhere from 26 -106 minutes, depending on the navigational astuteness of the bus driver. Since bus rides are my personal Pergatory where I await motion sickness, I try and weasel a seat in the front whenever possible. I am one of the Easily Queasy.
The school days are long and exhausting. Two four-hour classes a day, and then a guest speaker almost every day last week. Good stuff, but it's hard to listen for that much of your day. Thankfully, the sun doesn't set until about 8:30 or 9, so there is still lots of time for beach after class.
School is held Sunday (the first day of the Israeli work week) through Wednesday at Bar Ilan University, and half day on Thursdays at the hotel conference room. The bus to Bar Ilan can take anywhere from 26 -106 minutes, depending on the navigational astuteness of the bus driver. Since bus rides are my personal Pergatory where I await motion sickness, I try and weasel a seat in the front whenever possible. I am one of the Easily Queasy.
The school days are long and exhausting. Two four-hour classes a day, and then a guest speaker almost every day last week. Good stuff, but it's hard to listen for that much of your day. Thankfully, the sun doesn't set until about 8:30 or 9, so there is still lots of time for beach after class.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
I'll take you to the Candy Shop
One of the things I think I like most about other cultures is noticing the strange juxtaposition of American culture that invariably weasels itself into all, including the sometimes inappropriate, parts of life.
Example: We have this lovely breakfast at the hotel that's included in the rate. Every morning, I try and get up and get started early and there are a few of us who show up around the same time and have begun a breakfast comraderie of sorts. We bonded first over the fresh baked croissants ( or, butt enhancers:) and lack of meat products due to the Kosher nature of our hotel. Getting to the dining room involves getting off the elevator at the second floor, and then descending in plain view of the patrons down a flight of stairs to the first. Yesterday, I was the last of our posse into the dining room, so all eyes were on me as I waved to to our table from the top of the stair case. It was then that I realized that 50 Cent's "Candy Shop" was playing on the radio, shortly followed by Tom Jones' "Sex Bomb." I am not sure if anyone else in the place knew what the words to these songs were, but we sure did and they didn't seem like breakfast music. However, they did lend themselves to an agressive booty shake and some arm flailing on my part.
Booty shaking music and Breakfast. Juxtaposition in action.
We took a short field trip last week to Jaffa -- the port at the southern end of Tel Aviv and the oldest part of the city. From the small hill, you could see across the city.
Apparently, Jaffa is also the port from which Jonah tried to get a boat away from God, and eventually ended up in the belly of the whale. They are also licensed to sell ancient history, so I'm not sure if that story still belongs to God, or if someone already bought it.
We kind of ran through the city, so I want to get back up there sometime again. They have a massive flea market that I want to peruse for things I can bring home and reply nonchalantly to a compliment with, "Oh thanks, it's from Israel."
Example: We have this lovely breakfast at the hotel that's included in the rate. Every morning, I try and get up and get started early and there are a few of us who show up around the same time and have begun a breakfast comraderie of sorts. We bonded first over the fresh baked croissants ( or, butt enhancers:) and lack of meat products due to the Kosher nature of our hotel. Getting to the dining room involves getting off the elevator at the second floor, and then descending in plain view of the patrons down a flight of stairs to the first. Yesterday, I was the last of our posse into the dining room, so all eyes were on me as I waved to to our table from the top of the stair case. It was then that I realized that 50 Cent's "Candy Shop" was playing on the radio, shortly followed by Tom Jones' "Sex Bomb." I am not sure if anyone else in the place knew what the words to these songs were, but we sure did and they didn't seem like breakfast music. However, they did lend themselves to an agressive booty shake and some arm flailing on my part.
Booty shaking music and Breakfast. Juxtaposition in action.
We took a short field trip last week to Jaffa -- the port at the southern end of Tel Aviv and the oldest part of the city. From the small hill, you could see across the city.
Apparently, Jaffa is also the port from which Jonah tried to get a boat away from God, and eventually ended up in the belly of the whale. They are also licensed to sell ancient history, so I'm not sure if that story still belongs to God, or if someone already bought it.
We kind of ran through the city, so I want to get back up there sometime again. They have a massive flea market that I want to peruse for things I can bring home and reply nonchalantly to a compliment with, "Oh thanks, it's from Israel."
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Sheckels
Someone asked me right before I left what kind of currency people in Israel use and I off handedly joked, "Sheckels. Sounds biblical." And, I was actually right (which, on a related note, is a reminder of why you should always go with your first instinct, appropriately stated in the form of a question, when watching Jeopardy.) Sheckels it is.
Unfortunately, a sheckel today won't get you what it got Jesus. Tonight, 55 sheckels (about 18 bucks) got me babagaboush (eggplant mush, basically), meat crouquettes, white beans with spices and a nice conversation with some Israelis down the street.
The street I "live" on, Ben Yehuda, is about two small blocks from the beach. There are tons of small coffee shops and bohemians riding bikes on my block. The city is big, and rundown by American standards, but has a life about it that belies it's appearance. The view from my hotel window is of the caved in roof of a neighboring building and the outlines of others which wouldn't lead you to believe that I feel safe here, but I do. It's far more Mediterranean and metropolitan than I imagined.
At the beach, there are lots of old people in small bathing suits and jellyfish. The water is so warm, you just want to lie in it all day. Even early in the morning, there are people out running, swimming and sunning. The air is warm and wet. When you walk, you sweat. But, when you sit, it's perfect. So, I do a lot of sitting.
People are out, in the water, at the clubs, eating dinner at ALL hours of the day. The first day I got here, I was up at 6 am and walked past people just back from the Club and eating "dinner."
Oh, and if anyone was wondering where Air Supply's next show was, it's here. In Israel. I called the number on the poster, and it was just a Dude answering his personal phone, with the equivillent of "Yeah?" It was too far away to catch a bus too, but it happened all the same.
Unfortunately, a sheckel today won't get you what it got Jesus. Tonight, 55 sheckels (about 18 bucks) got me babagaboush (eggplant mush, basically), meat crouquettes, white beans with spices and a nice conversation with some Israelis down the street.
The street I "live" on, Ben Yehuda, is about two small blocks from the beach. There are tons of small coffee shops and bohemians riding bikes on my block. The city is big, and rundown by American standards, but has a life about it that belies it's appearance. The view from my hotel window is of the caved in roof of a neighboring building and the outlines of others which wouldn't lead you to believe that I feel safe here, but I do. It's far more Mediterranean and metropolitan than I imagined.
At the beach, there are lots of old people in small bathing suits and jellyfish. The water is so warm, you just want to lie in it all day. Even early in the morning, there are people out running, swimming and sunning. The air is warm and wet. When you walk, you sweat. But, when you sit, it's perfect. So, I do a lot of sitting.
People are out, in the water, at the clubs, eating dinner at ALL hours of the day. The first day I got here, I was up at 6 am and walked past people just back from the Club and eating "dinner."
Oh, and if anyone was wondering where Air Supply's next show was, it's here. In Israel. I called the number on the poster, and it was just a Dude answering his personal phone, with the equivillent of "Yeah?" It was too far away to catch a bus too, but it happened all the same.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
My Body Clock likes to Boss me Around
I disembarked flight 163 from London Heathrow to Tel Aviv (where my business class luck unfortunately didn't follow me) to a long line of customs, and then a quick walking cab driver who taught me some key hebrew phrases and told me I looked 25 on our drive into the city.
My room wasn't ready, but a great breakfast was and then the beach. When I finally got into my room, 30 hours after taking off in LA, I slept for 4 hours and woke up looking like this, which should seem familiar to many of you.
Yikes. I think I already have more freckles.
The best thing to happen to me today, you ask? Well, I was strolling around the open market checking out the scene when I was approached by a middle-aged balding Israeli man tugging along a red Radio Flyer wagon filled with dismembered chicken parts he had obviously just finished butchering. He asked me where I was from, how long I was staying and where I wanted to go. Then, he said, "You should give me your phone number. I will call you."
Tonight, I've got plans for a good dinner, and an early bedtime. And then some clubbin. Seriously.
My room wasn't ready, but a great breakfast was and then the beach. When I finally got into my room, 30 hours after taking off in LA, I slept for 4 hours and woke up looking like this, which should seem familiar to many of you.
Yikes. I think I already have more freckles.
The best thing to happen to me today, you ask? Well, I was strolling around the open market checking out the scene when I was approached by a middle-aged balding Israeli man tugging along a red Radio Flyer wagon filled with dismembered chicken parts he had obviously just finished butchering. He asked me where I was from, how long I was staying and where I wanted to go. Then, he said, "You should give me your phone number. I will call you."
Tonight, I've got plans for a good dinner, and an early bedtime. And then some clubbin. Seriously.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
An Explanation
Brother Bear always calls me OODilbeck (Double Oh Dilbeck) when I tell him where I am going and what I am doing. I think it's mostly because he thinks I am ridiculous, and partly because he's going to miss me. But, he says it's because he never knows exactly where to find me.
At any rate, I think the name has stuck since Nance's been calling me it, too. And I kinda like it. It's got mystery and intrigue and martinis. You know, a lot like me. Right? So, this blog is dedicated to keeping Brother informed of my whereabouts.
This adventure really began yesterday at the Third Street Promenade (the situation was desperate, I needed walking shoes before my flight left and we only had three hours or we would have went somewhere, anywhere, else...) Cas and I were asked TWICE if we were TWINS and took this photo shot before our double wheat grass and double matcha shots at Jamba. Gotta boost the immune system before a big flight!
My flight from LAX to London was providential. I was STOKED and got a free upgrade to Business Class on British Airways (what they are calling Club World now) with a fully reclining 6 foot bed and personalized service. I know what you're thinking... But I didn't even say ONE word to anyone about an upgrade. It just happened cause God likes me.
Now, trying to get though a sleepy seven hour layover in Terminal Four, home to many, many things I should not even think about buying. (PS. Cristie and Holly B, the Marc Jacobs purse has followed me here!!!)
Take off for Tel Aviv in a couple of hours... I'll post when I get settled!
At any rate, I think the name has stuck since Nance's been calling me it, too. And I kinda like it. It's got mystery and intrigue and martinis. You know, a lot like me. Right? So, this blog is dedicated to keeping Brother informed of my whereabouts.
This adventure really began yesterday at the Third Street Promenade (the situation was desperate, I needed walking shoes before my flight left and we only had three hours or we would have went somewhere, anywhere, else...) Cas and I were asked TWICE if we were TWINS and took this photo shot before our double wheat grass and double matcha shots at Jamba. Gotta boost the immune system before a big flight!
My flight from LAX to London was providential. I was STOKED and got a free upgrade to Business Class on British Airways (what they are calling Club World now) with a fully reclining 6 foot bed and personalized service. I know what you're thinking... But I didn't even say ONE word to anyone about an upgrade. It just happened cause God likes me.
Now, trying to get though a sleepy seven hour layover in Terminal Four, home to many, many things I should not even think about buying. (PS. Cristie and Holly B, the Marc Jacobs purse has followed me here!!!)
Take off for Tel Aviv in a couple of hours... I'll post when I get settled!
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