The Big Show

The most iconic pictures of Israel certainly come from the disputed Holy City of Jerusalem. I went, twice. I won't belabor the details, since a city like Jerusalem, with all of it's history and uncertainty, is really a city best walked through and discovered for oneself. And, I don't think I have really thought through the implications -- spiritual or otherwise -- of being there.

I will tell you that being in Jerusalem is a bit surreal. When I got off of the bus at the Mount of Olives walked down into the Garden of Gethsemane, and looked across the valley to the walled old city with the Dome of the Rock above the Western Wall -- surrounded by so many places with extreme significance for so many -- it's hard to know quite how to feel.


In that moment, it was easier to think that I was already hot and tired and it was only 10 in the morning. Now, I wish I could have spent more time there (and, taken better pictures... I couldn't quite figure out how to maximize this one...) Sometimes moments like that are experienced more in the remembering later than in the actual being there now. That's a bit how Jerusalem was for me.

One of the best things I got to do was spend the Sabbath in Jerusalem with a friend from the trip, Talia, who graciously included me in her fam's celebration. From sun down on Friday, to sun down Saturday, we rested, ate, read and went to Temple. We said the traditional prayers, I got to read a poem during one part(!) and didn't drive, turn on a light switch or the oven. I think I could get into that part of practice, since eating, resting and reading are basically my favorite things in life.


A view of the newer city, clad in white Jerusalem stone as the building code requires of every structure, from Yad Vashem -- the Jewish Holocaust Museum.


The security wall being built between Western (Jewish) and Eastern (Arab) Jerusalem. There security walls like this planned, or in the works, in many parts of Israel.


Are they Holy because they taste so good, or because they're made in the Holy Land? In any case, I wish I could have had one but I only caught the delivery truck.

Crocodile Don't

One of my Israeli friends, Billie, just graduated from an Israeli art school. One of her photos is an especially pointed take on Israeli's fascination with the indomitable Croc line of shoes. You know the ones: puffy, plastic in bright clown colors...Israelis LOVE Crocs. Nearly EVERYONE wears them. Cute surfer boys in surf shops wear the camo ones, and old ladies sport orange and pink to the market. While Crocs have made their way to America, and even begrudgingly into the homes of some hold outs when they introduced their modern, more streamlined looks ( See: Jenny Gough, Nicole Wolf and, alas, I) I can't say they have had the same market saturation as in Israel.

Thus, Billie's commentary. I'm not quite sure if she wants Crocs to die, or if she thinks you should be killed for wearing them, but I think I agree with either statement.

At least until I am able to, one and for all, denounce fashion for function. And, I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. I am too in love with my new Jill Stuart snakeskin pumps to do THAT quite yet.