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| My dad and I showing our Israeli pride on Jerusalem day |
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The Power of Experiencing the Holidays
Since posting my last entry, I've had many experiences, including trips to the majestic Bahai Gardens of Haifa, the ancient ruins of Akko, waterfalls in the Golan Heights and Petra's underground city-considered one of the seven great wonders of the world. I loved exploring these places and was perpetually in awe of their vast physical beauty and historical importance. However, my most treasured memories were those spent celebrating the recent holidays of Passover, Yom Hashoa (Holocaust Remembrance) , Yom Hazikaron (Israeli Remembrance Day) Yom Hatzmaut (Israeli Independence Day), Yom Yerushaliyim (Jerusalem Day) and Sukkot.
Before coming to Israel, I always thought of myself as a Jew who celebrated the Jewish holidays. I may not have kept kosher or welcomed Shabbat, but I did drag myself to Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur every year, lit the Menorah on Hannukah, and I looked forward to partaking in the annual beach-side seder with my grandparents every year in Florida. As far as the Israeli holidays went, I sometimes attended the JCC Yom Hatzmaut carnival, but Yom Hashoa, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Yerushaliym usually weren't acknowledge. It wasn't that I didn't know other Jewish holidays existed, I simply didn't make it a point to celebrate them. As a Jew, I've always known the critical role the torah plays in Judaism, but I never made the effort to celebrate the day it was received (Sukkot). Furthermore, I always associated the celebrations of such holidays with "religious Jews"-a community of which I was never a part of.
But all of my previous rules and traditions (or lack thereof) were discarded when I came to Israel and I looked forward to sharing in an authentic Israeli-Jewish experience. Passover was the first in a series of holidays and I could feel it approach a week before the officially beginning. When I went to the shook, I no longer asked myself "what should I buy?" but "what will they have." In order for their store to be considered "kosher for passover", shop-owners need to thoroughly clean away any products containing wheat, spelt, barley, rye and oats, and rice, corn, lentils and beans (according to Ashkenazi tradition). This rule also often applies to foods that are made near products that contain any of these ingredients. Although I missed some of my weekly chocolate and dried fruit fixings, the lack of available foods added to the collective spirit of Passover. In the past I was always a member of the minority-one of the few who celebrated this seemingly obscure and rule-ridden holiday in the wake of the fun, chocolate-filled Easter brunch. But not in Jerusalem. In Jerusalem I could still order a sandwich or pastry with my coffee, because every coffee shop had "Passover-friendly" bread-like treats. In Jerusalem I didn't have to scour food packages for traces or wheat or spelt, because I knew they would be hidden behind covered shelves. I admit that I haven't always abided by the Passover rule-book. I always begin with noble intentions, but finding myself crumbling when the bread basket comes around or a friend orders pancakes for breakfast. But this year I remained faithful-even fervent about keeping the Passover mitzvot. Not because it was easier (which it admittedly was), but because I finally realized how special and lucky to be a member of this unique and remarkable people.
The notion of collectivity grew more potent as the month progressed. Yom Hashoa, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hatzmaut are considered Israel's High Holidays. They begin with Yom Hashoa (Holocaust Remembrance Day), in which a siren is loud siren is sounded around the country. The second the siren is heard, everyone stops. Drivers get out of their cars, boisterous merchants cease their haggling, teachers stop teaching and everyone stands at attention, in reverence of the nearly 7 million Jews who were murdered in the holocaust. One week later, a similar event occurs-but this time in honor of those fell in service. Yom Hazikaron is arguably the most poignant of holidays because every Israeli is required to serve in the military (except the Haredim and Arabs), and most Israeli's know someone who died in battle or was a victim of terror. The mood was reminiscent of the days following September 11; melancholy and grief-ridden, but not defeated.
As day shifted into night, somber reverance for dead loved gave way to elated pride for "Yom Hatzmaut" or Israeli Independence day. I rung in Israel's happiest holiday at a night long dance party in the shook alongside hundreds of fellow teens. The next day, thousands flocked to the Gan Sachar park for barbeques galore. Spending Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hatzmaut in Israel was a beautiful reminder that even in times of bitter despair, we must never give up hope or stop finding the positive.
Before coming to Israel, I always thought of myself as a Jew who celebrated the Jewish holidays. I may not have kept kosher or welcomed Shabbat, but I did drag myself to Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur every year, lit the Menorah on Hannukah, and I looked forward to partaking in the annual beach-side seder with my grandparents every year in Florida. As far as the Israeli holidays went, I sometimes attended the JCC Yom Hatzmaut carnival, but Yom Hashoa, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Yerushaliym usually weren't acknowledge. It wasn't that I didn't know other Jewish holidays existed, I simply didn't make it a point to celebrate them. As a Jew, I've always known the critical role the torah plays in Judaism, but I never made the effort to celebrate the day it was received (Sukkot). Furthermore, I always associated the celebrations of such holidays with "religious Jews"-a community of which I was never a part of.
But all of my previous rules and traditions (or lack thereof) were discarded when I came to Israel and I looked forward to sharing in an authentic Israeli-Jewish experience. Passover was the first in a series of holidays and I could feel it approach a week before the officially beginning. When I went to the shook, I no longer asked myself "what should I buy?" but "what will they have." In order for their store to be considered "kosher for passover", shop-owners need to thoroughly clean away any products containing wheat, spelt, barley, rye and oats, and rice, corn, lentils and beans (according to Ashkenazi tradition). This rule also often applies to foods that are made near products that contain any of these ingredients. Although I missed some of my weekly chocolate and dried fruit fixings, the lack of available foods added to the collective spirit of Passover. In the past I was always a member of the minority-one of the few who celebrated this seemingly obscure and rule-ridden holiday in the wake of the fun, chocolate-filled Easter brunch. But not in Jerusalem. In Jerusalem I could still order a sandwich or pastry with my coffee, because every coffee shop had "Passover-friendly" bread-like treats. In Jerusalem I didn't have to scour food packages for traces or wheat or spelt, because I knew they would be hidden behind covered shelves. I admit that I haven't always abided by the Passover rule-book. I always begin with noble intentions, but finding myself crumbling when the bread basket comes around or a friend orders pancakes for breakfast. But this year I remained faithful-even fervent about keeping the Passover mitzvot. Not because it was easier (which it admittedly was), but because I finally realized how special and lucky to be a member of this unique and remarkable people.
The notion of collectivity grew more potent as the month progressed. Yom Hashoa, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hatzmaut are considered Israel's High Holidays. They begin with Yom Hashoa (Holocaust Remembrance Day), in which a siren is loud siren is sounded around the country. The second the siren is heard, everyone stops. Drivers get out of their cars, boisterous merchants cease their haggling, teachers stop teaching and everyone stands at attention, in reverence of the nearly 7 million Jews who were murdered in the holocaust. One week later, a similar event occurs-but this time in honor of those fell in service. Yom Hazikaron is arguably the most poignant of holidays because every Israeli is required to serve in the military (except the Haredim and Arabs), and most Israeli's know someone who died in battle or was a victim of terror. The mood was reminiscent of the days following September 11; melancholy and grief-ridden, but not defeated.
As day shifted into night, somber reverance for dead loved gave way to elated pride for "Yom Hatzmaut" or Israeli Independence day. I rung in Israel's happiest holiday at a night long dance party in the shook alongside hundreds of fellow teens. The next day, thousands flocked to the Gan Sachar park for barbeques galore. Spending Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hatzmaut in Israel was a beautiful reminder that even in times of bitter despair, we must never give up hope or stop finding the positive.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
This month I neglected the cyber world (thus the lack of blog posts) in favor of travel, touring and Jewish observance...
I began March by welcoming my boyfriend, Grant, for a 10 day crash course in Eretz Israel. It was the first time I had the opportunity to play tour guide and I must say it was quite fun. After arriving to Ben Gurion on Friday afternoon, I whisked him off to the shook where he was bombarded with pungent culinary and cultural firsts including everything from attempting to stand in line (anyone who's been to the shook knows there's no such thing as lines) to shovelling in berekas, rugelach and falafel I hurled at him in the form of welcome gifts. The poor boy was exhausted from his 15 hour (his flight was delayed in two different cities) excursion and his stomach was about to explode, but there wasn't any time for rest. Immediately after the shook we made our way to the old city where we experienced shabbat dinner at Aba and Pamela Claman's home in the old city. The generous couple live in the most beautiful home overlooking the Temple Mt. and after singing songs with female IDF soldiers on their balcony, we made our way to the Kotel where both Grant and I were overwhelmed with emotion.
It was Grant's first time seeing the symbolic site and every time I reflect on his reaction, I am reminded of the phrase from the movie "Hester Street"-"A jew, is a jew, is a jew". Despite the fact that Judaism never played a central role in Grant's life, the kotel is a symbol of our painful yet persevering existence as a peoplehood and I think it made him realize regardless of whether a Jew fulfills none or all 613 of the mitzvot, he/she is still a member of the potent community. I was equally wrought with emotion and perhaps a sense of frustration that I still know so little about Judaism-it almost feels as if I am ignorant to a part of my identity. Perhaps, neither Grant nor I will ever fully understand why the Kotel affected us so profoundly but I am certain it will serve as an indelible memory I will always cherish.
After experiencing a moving, tranquil (and Grant's first) traditional shabbat, I flung into tour-guide mode, eager to show Grant as many of Israel's natural and cultural wonders as possible. We explored the stallegmite cave in the Jerusalem forest, ventured through the ruins of the stunning Caesaria port and climbed the same snake path up the Masada fortress that our ancestors valiantly died for many moons ago. We also floated in the dead sea, misted in the Ein Gedi's water falls and spent a lazy afternoon wandering through Tel Aviv's Jaffa Port, Sheiken St. and trendy Neve Tzedek. Along the way I tried to expose Grant to my favorite Jerusalem hot spots, neighborhoods and cafes. We ended our too short but wonderful vacation in the mystical foothills of Tzfat where we welcomed Shabbat with two minyans-one in the Breislav Carlbach synagogue-the most joyous I've ever been to, as well as one that was literally conducted in the street. I've never been to a city that puts observance on such a spiritually high pedestal. I enjoyed showing Grant Israel through my eyes and observing it in a new way through his, and although I was sad to see him go, I didn't have time to wallow because my friend Rachel came the following week!
Being in school here means I actually have to study once in a while but I will share more of my recent experiences soon...
Shalom,
Nikki
I began March by welcoming my boyfriend, Grant, for a 10 day crash course in Eretz Israel. It was the first time I had the opportunity to play tour guide and I must say it was quite fun. After arriving to Ben Gurion on Friday afternoon, I whisked him off to the shook where he was bombarded with pungent culinary and cultural firsts including everything from attempting to stand in line (anyone who's been to the shook knows there's no such thing as lines) to shovelling in berekas, rugelach and falafel I hurled at him in the form of welcome gifts. The poor boy was exhausted from his 15 hour (his flight was delayed in two different cities) excursion and his stomach was about to explode, but there wasn't any time for rest. Immediately after the shook we made our way to the old city where we experienced shabbat dinner at Aba and Pamela Claman's home in the old city. The generous couple live in the most beautiful home overlooking the Temple Mt. and after singing songs with female IDF soldiers on their balcony, we made our way to the Kotel where both Grant and I were overwhelmed with emotion.
It was Grant's first time seeing the symbolic site and every time I reflect on his reaction, I am reminded of the phrase from the movie "Hester Street"-"A jew, is a jew, is a jew". Despite the fact that Judaism never played a central role in Grant's life, the kotel is a symbol of our painful yet persevering existence as a peoplehood and I think it made him realize regardless of whether a Jew fulfills none or all 613 of the mitzvot, he/she is still a member of the potent community. I was equally wrought with emotion and perhaps a sense of frustration that I still know so little about Judaism-it almost feels as if I am ignorant to a part of my identity. Perhaps, neither Grant nor I will ever fully understand why the Kotel affected us so profoundly but I am certain it will serve as an indelible memory I will always cherish.
After experiencing a moving, tranquil (and Grant's first) traditional shabbat, I flung into tour-guide mode, eager to show Grant as many of Israel's natural and cultural wonders as possible. We explored the stallegmite cave in the Jerusalem forest, ventured through the ruins of the stunning Caesaria port and climbed the same snake path up the Masada fortress that our ancestors valiantly died for many moons ago. We also floated in the dead sea, misted in the Ein Gedi's water falls and spent a lazy afternoon wandering through Tel Aviv's Jaffa Port, Sheiken St. and trendy Neve Tzedek. Along the way I tried to expose Grant to my favorite Jerusalem hot spots, neighborhoods and cafes. We ended our too short but wonderful vacation in the mystical foothills of Tzfat where we welcomed Shabbat with two minyans-one in the Breislav Carlbach synagogue-the most joyous I've ever been to, as well as one that was literally conducted in the street. I've never been to a city that puts observance on such a spiritually high pedestal. I enjoyed showing Grant Israel through my eyes and observing it in a new way through his, and although I was sad to see him go, I didn't have time to wallow because my friend Rachel came the following week!
Being in school here means I actually have to study once in a while but I will share more of my recent experiences soon...
Shalom,
Nikki
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
From the Desert to the Beach-all in a week's time!
Last weekend I joined my fellow Rothberg students on a group trip to the Negev. I've never been to the region before but whenever I hear the word "desert", I instatantly picture the flat cactus smothered lands of Arizona and couldn't imagine how we could spend 5 hours hiking in such homogenous territory. But just like so many of my other presumptions, I was completely wrong.
The desert is an impressive landscape of rocky canyons and hilltops that lay about 2 hours south of Jerusalem and offer impressive views of the nearby dead sea. Unlike most days in the Negev, The weather was perfect-a warm 75 degrees with a refreshing wind that blew in our faces as we climbed the through the imposing landscape. Our guide was a charismatic Sabra who carried a bible in his back pocket and whipping it out every once in a while to remind us of the many biblical figures who camc to the same desert we were trekking through for spiritual guidance and rejuvenation. Now, I'm not in any way comparing myself to Jesus, Moses, Mohammed or any of the other biblical homeboys, but the idea that I was walking in the same steps as the leaders of the 3 great western religions brought me chills, in spite of the heat.
After the hike we spent the weekend in a youth hostel in Arad and reverted back to camp days with color war competitions and collective shabbat meals. I returned saturday night slightly tanner and happy to be back "home" in Jerusalem.
Six days later I was back on the bus with a couple friends. But this time we were headed north, away from the desolate desert and towards the crazy beach town that is Tel Aviv. Every time I arrive in Tel Aviv, I feel as if I've landed on another planet. Jerusalem is full of palpable clashes between antiquity and modernity, the religious and secular, Arabs and Jews. Such conflicts distinguish the city from any other, making it arguably the most unique in the world. But in many ways, Tel Aviv could be in any European country and it would blend in perfectly. The beach metropolis is full of high-fashion boutiques, chic cafes and gourmet restaurants that are not only open on shabbat (a rariety in Jerusalem) but proudly feature shellfish and other non-kosher fare on their menu.
While the San Diego part of me had forgotten how nice it was to feel the salty air of the sea or watch the waves crash against the rocks, the New York City-kid in me is admittedly jaded and I just wasn't moved by the overpriced shops the way I might have been at one point. In fact, as I perused the clothes I kept thinking the avant-garde designs wouldn't fly in the relaxed streets of Jerusalem.
However, while I consider most of Tel Aviv to be "nice", I must confess I fell in love with a little pocket off of town called "Neve Tzedek". Neve Tzedek was one of the first Jewish neighborhoods in Palestine before the creation of Israel and is now an artsy town that houses some of the best boutiques and restaurants I've seen yet. The adorable alleys and brightly colored buildings were entrancing and although I've always insisted Jerusalem is my favorite city, I would move to Neve Tzedek in a heart beat if I could afford the multi-million dollar price tag.
My friends and I came back to Jerusalem Saturday evening and while we all agreed that it was comforting to be back home, its also nice to know that Israel's tiny circumference enables one to transcend time and place in a 40 minute bus ride.
The desert is an impressive landscape of rocky canyons and hilltops that lay about 2 hours south of Jerusalem and offer impressive views of the nearby dead sea. Unlike most days in the Negev, The weather was perfect-a warm 75 degrees with a refreshing wind that blew in our faces as we climbed the through the imposing landscape. Our guide was a charismatic Sabra who carried a bible in his back pocket and whipping it out every once in a while to remind us of the many biblical figures who camc to the same desert we were trekking through for spiritual guidance and rejuvenation. Now, I'm not in any way comparing myself to Jesus, Moses, Mohammed or any of the other biblical homeboys, but the idea that I was walking in the same steps as the leaders of the 3 great western religions brought me chills, in spite of the heat.
After the hike we spent the weekend in a youth hostel in Arad and reverted back to camp days with color war competitions and collective shabbat meals. I returned saturday night slightly tanner and happy to be back "home" in Jerusalem.
Six days later I was back on the bus with a couple friends. But this time we were headed north, away from the desolate desert and towards the crazy beach town that is Tel Aviv. Every time I arrive in Tel Aviv, I feel as if I've landed on another planet. Jerusalem is full of palpable clashes between antiquity and modernity, the religious and secular, Arabs and Jews. Such conflicts distinguish the city from any other, making it arguably the most unique in the world. But in many ways, Tel Aviv could be in any European country and it would blend in perfectly. The beach metropolis is full of high-fashion boutiques, chic cafes and gourmet restaurants that are not only open on shabbat (a rariety in Jerusalem) but proudly feature shellfish and other non-kosher fare on their menu.
While the San Diego part of me had forgotten how nice it was to feel the salty air of the sea or watch the waves crash against the rocks, the New York City-kid in me is admittedly jaded and I just wasn't moved by the overpriced shops the way I might have been at one point. In fact, as I perused the clothes I kept thinking the avant-garde designs wouldn't fly in the relaxed streets of Jerusalem.
However, while I consider most of Tel Aviv to be "nice", I must confess I fell in love with a little pocket off of town called "Neve Tzedek". Neve Tzedek was one of the first Jewish neighborhoods in Palestine before the creation of Israel and is now an artsy town that houses some of the best boutiques and restaurants I've seen yet. The adorable alleys and brightly colored buildings were entrancing and although I've always insisted Jerusalem is my favorite city, I would move to Neve Tzedek in a heart beat if I could afford the multi-million dollar price tag.
My friends and I came back to Jerusalem Saturday evening and while we all agreed that it was comforting to be back home, its also nice to know that Israel's tiny circumference enables one to transcend time and place in a 40 minute bus ride.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Beauty in Every Sense of the Word
A Week ago I kicked off my weekend with a hike in the Jerusalem Forest. Although I was still half-asleep at the ungodly hour of 6am, I couldn't help but feel energized by the earthly beauty that surrounded me. The morning mist seeped through the hunter green pine trees that smother the canyon and as we walked, we saw little natural springs or "mikvehs" scattered along the way. The view was truly mystical and even romantic in a sense, and it was hard to believe that we were only 20 minutes outside of one of the most controversial cities in the world. I can't remember ever recognizing nature as one of those rare entities thats both powerful and inspiring but truly devoid of opinion or judgement.
After 3 hours of trudging along the steep canyons, we were divided into groups and told to make different dishes using only raw ingredients and a homemade fire. My group was assigned pita bread and while I do pride myself on making a mean stir-fry, I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to accomplish this without the assistance of a ready-made bisquick mix. But alas, pita is much more simple than I thought-just add dough, water, salt, a couple minutes over the fire and you're ready to chomp! The lunch turned out to be quite a delicious reward and I must say the traditional Israeli meal of labaneh, tahina and pita put our hotdogs and hamburgers to shame...
Several hours later, my friends and I reconvened and kicked off Shabbat with a potluck dinner. Not only was it a tasty and fun enterprise, but it was nice to look out the window and see students in other apartments enjoying the same experience. Regardless of what their religious views or practices are, most families in Israel still share a home-cooked meal every Friday night-a tradition that always seemed somewhat unrealistic to me. After a week of work, we should get to do what we feel like. Sleep if we're tired, go out if we want-not commit ourselves to preparing a feast and engaging in conversation. But since being here, I've eagerly anticipated every Shabbat dinner (I swear my stomach obligingly growls on Friday mornings) and its certainly a cultural tradition I hope to bring back with me.
After yet another fun and relaxing Shabbat, my dad and I got to kick-start our week with a fun volunteer project at Save A Child's Heart. The organization is devoted to performing life-saving heart operations on children all over the world-primarily those who live in countries which lack the necessary medical resources to help them. SACHA puts all political problems aside (in fact half of the assisted children are Palestinian) and focuses on giving innocent children an opportunity to live a healthy life. In addition to providing doctors who donate their time to perform the procedures, SACHA also covers all expenses regarding their surgery. We got to visit the children at the house they stay in pre and post recovery and I can honestly say I think I had more fun then they did!
Since the children come from all over the world, none of us spoke the same language, but I was happy to discover that the language of "playtime" needn't have a dialect or place of origin-we all understand it! In many respects, the kids were completely normal in the ways they laughed, interacted and even fought, but noticing the occasional scar made me realize that they had been through an amount of trauma I couldn't possibly related to and it made me feel very fortunate for my health.
So far my trip has been full of a myriad of unique and meaningful experiences and it never ceases to amaze me that they all stem from a country no larger than New Jersey...
After 3 hours of trudging along the steep canyons, we were divided into groups and told to make different dishes using only raw ingredients and a homemade fire. My group was assigned pita bread and while I do pride myself on making a mean stir-fry, I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to accomplish this without the assistance of a ready-made bisquick mix. But alas, pita is much more simple than I thought-just add dough, water, salt, a couple minutes over the fire and you're ready to chomp! The lunch turned out to be quite a delicious reward and I must say the traditional Israeli meal of labaneh, tahina and pita put our hotdogs and hamburgers to shame...
Several hours later, my friends and I reconvened and kicked off Shabbat with a potluck dinner. Not only was it a tasty and fun enterprise, but it was nice to look out the window and see students in other apartments enjoying the same experience. Regardless of what their religious views or practices are, most families in Israel still share a home-cooked meal every Friday night-a tradition that always seemed somewhat unrealistic to me. After a week of work, we should get to do what we feel like. Sleep if we're tired, go out if we want-not commit ourselves to preparing a feast and engaging in conversation. But since being here, I've eagerly anticipated every Shabbat dinner (I swear my stomach obligingly growls on Friday mornings) and its certainly a cultural tradition I hope to bring back with me.
After yet another fun and relaxing Shabbat, my dad and I got to kick-start our week with a fun volunteer project at Save A Child's Heart. The organization is devoted to performing life-saving heart operations on children all over the world-primarily those who live in countries which lack the necessary medical resources to help them. SACHA puts all political problems aside (in fact half of the assisted children are Palestinian) and focuses on giving innocent children an opportunity to live a healthy life. In addition to providing doctors who donate their time to perform the procedures, SACHA also covers all expenses regarding their surgery. We got to visit the children at the house they stay in pre and post recovery and I can honestly say I think I had more fun then they did!
Since the children come from all over the world, none of us spoke the same language, but I was happy to discover that the language of "playtime" needn't have a dialect or place of origin-we all understand it! In many respects, the kids were completely normal in the ways they laughed, interacted and even fought, but noticing the occasional scar made me realize that they had been through an amount of trauma I couldn't possibly related to and it made me feel very fortunate for my health.
So far my trip has been full of a myriad of unique and meaningful experiences and it never ceases to amaze me that they all stem from a country no larger than New Jersey...
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Only in Jerusalem
Last Monday a couple friends and I decided we were in need of some retail therapy and headed to every girl's haven-the mall. At first glance there is nothing particularly unique about this mall-we entered through the left side-which sits on a busy intersection and perused through the long row of chain stores including a MAC -to serve our beautification woes, a Chanel for the posh shopper and about 4 different cafes scattered throughout to provide that much needed espresso after a long day of shopping.In other words-nothing to write (or blog) home about. But when we got to the end of the corridor, our mouths dropped and our eyes struggled to take in the beauty of it all. Standing before us were the majestic walls of the Old City. The sun's rays glimmered off the thick Jerusalem stone and the city resembled a fortress-begging us to come and explore.
Within a mere two minutes we were no longer perusing through North American chain stores but moseying down the Arab quarter-eyeing their goods and contemplating whether anything was worth the haggle. I eyed two brightly hued, patterned scarves and although it took about 15 minutes and a great deal of determination, I managed to barter my way from 80 to 10 dollars for the pair.
And while I am excited to show off my new accessories, I must admit it is the experience as a whole that gives me the biggest thrill. Only in Jerusalem can one experience such incongruous cultures in the matter of minutes. It is impossible to deny that a religious, cultural and political clash exists here. But it is also that potent diversity that makes this city beautiful and gives it an indescribable air of spirituality. And yes, any tourist will inevitably notice such differences. But living here, it is impossible to escape them. Every day I ride the bus and am saturated in a melting pot of religious convictions. A gaggle of ultra-orthodox girls chatter amongst themselves, while a pair of older muslim women sit across the aisle, waiting in silence for their stop. Sights such as these might seem mundane to everyone else, but it is such a scene that causes me to sigh with awe and think "Only in Jerusalem!"
Within a mere two minutes we were no longer perusing through North American chain stores but moseying down the Arab quarter-eyeing their goods and contemplating whether anything was worth the haggle. I eyed two brightly hued, patterned scarves and although it took about 15 minutes and a great deal of determination, I managed to barter my way from 80 to 10 dollars for the pair.
And while I am excited to show off my new accessories, I must admit it is the experience as a whole that gives me the biggest thrill. Only in Jerusalem can one experience such incongruous cultures in the matter of minutes. It is impossible to deny that a religious, cultural and political clash exists here. But it is also that potent diversity that makes this city beautiful and gives it an indescribable air of spirituality. And yes, any tourist will inevitably notice such differences. But living here, it is impossible to escape them. Every day I ride the bus and am saturated in a melting pot of religious convictions. A gaggle of ultra-orthodox girls chatter amongst themselves, while a pair of older muslim women sit across the aisle, waiting in silence for their stop. Sights such as these might seem mundane to everyone else, but it is such a scene that causes me to sigh with awe and think "Only in Jerusalem!"
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
To Live Like a King
In my ulpan, we watched a skit about the rituals of shabbat. While I knew most of the teachings (although I had never heard them explained in hebrew), I didn't know that on shabbat we are supposed to live like royalty. Initially, this idea seemed to contradict the many rules and prohibitions surrounding shabbat. No driving. No turning on the lights. No TV. Is it just me, or is a king the only person who doesn't have to abide to anyone's regulations?! But after this shabbat, I truly have a better understanding and appreciation for the order around this royal day.
On Friday night, I went to a shabbat meal with about 50 other students at a hotel near campus and on Saturday, I went to lunch at Rabbi Daniel Landes'-head of the Pardes Institute and a good friend of my dad's. Although both experiences were quite different, there were some elements that remained the same. Everyone sits around the table-like a royal court. After three short "ceremonies"- the kiddush (prayer for wine), hand-washing and chamotzee (prayer for bread)- the meal commences. On Shabbat, all diet rules are tossed out the window as everyone heaps different varieties of salads and hummus onto fresh slices of bread. After our stomachs are sufficiently satisfied, the second course comes. And finally, when we really can't eat anymore-at least 5 different types of dessert are served and despite our protests of fulness-it somehow disappears from the table. At the end of the meal, everyone sings and says the birkot hamazon (grace) and we stumble back home-fully nourished in both body and soul.
In honor of Tu B'Shvat, my Saturday lunch also included a Tu B'Shvat seder in which we read different excerpts from the Torah and Talmud about the importance of trees. These days, we tend to associate environmentalism with postmodern liberalism and it was interesting to see that environmental advocacy actually began thousands of years ago. The meal also included a representation of all the tree species and although I know I should love figs, I must say I couldn't get enough of the dates!
Jerusalem is truly the only major city in the world that almost fully observes shabbat and I must say it was refreshing to walk along the streets without hearing honking cars or smelling the exhaust from fuel. As I walked to lunch, I said "shabbat shalom" to everyone I saw-regardless of their age, ethnicity- or even religion. I felt a communal environment more intense than any other which is remarkable for city with a population of 800,000.
On Saturday night, the calm, lazy atmosphere quickly shifted into "city" mode and I went out with friends to a trendy jazz club. The club was packed with students and hippies, and the musicians put a modern spin on the classic genre. Only in Jerusalem, can I engage in such opposing activities in an twelve-hour time frame!
On Friday night, I went to a shabbat meal with about 50 other students at a hotel near campus and on Saturday, I went to lunch at Rabbi Daniel Landes'-head of the Pardes Institute and a good friend of my dad's. Although both experiences were quite different, there were some elements that remained the same. Everyone sits around the table-like a royal court. After three short "ceremonies"- the kiddush (prayer for wine), hand-washing and chamotzee (prayer for bread)- the meal commences. On Shabbat, all diet rules are tossed out the window as everyone heaps different varieties of salads and hummus onto fresh slices of bread. After our stomachs are sufficiently satisfied, the second course comes. And finally, when we really can't eat anymore-at least 5 different types of dessert are served and despite our protests of fulness-it somehow disappears from the table. At the end of the meal, everyone sings and says the birkot hamazon (grace) and we stumble back home-fully nourished in both body and soul.
In honor of Tu B'Shvat, my Saturday lunch also included a Tu B'Shvat seder in which we read different excerpts from the Torah and Talmud about the importance of trees. These days, we tend to associate environmentalism with postmodern liberalism and it was interesting to see that environmental advocacy actually began thousands of years ago. The meal also included a representation of all the tree species and although I know I should love figs, I must say I couldn't get enough of the dates!
Jerusalem is truly the only major city in the world that almost fully observes shabbat and I must say it was refreshing to walk along the streets without hearing honking cars or smelling the exhaust from fuel. As I walked to lunch, I said "shabbat shalom" to everyone I saw-regardless of their age, ethnicity- or even religion. I felt a communal environment more intense than any other which is remarkable for city with a population of 800,000.
On Saturday night, the calm, lazy atmosphere quickly shifted into "city" mode and I went out with friends to a trendy jazz club. The club was packed with students and hippies, and the musicians put a modern spin on the classic genre. Only in Jerusalem, can I engage in such opposing activities in an twelve-hour time frame!
Friday, January 29, 2010
First Week Flies By
I can't believe I've already been in Israel a week! Between the intensive five hour Hebrew courses every day and trying to establish a sense of home thousands of miles away, its hard enough to catch my breath let alone start a blog. But alas, I have officially begun my documentation of this whirlwind of a journey!
Most of this week was spent completing seemingly normal, mundane tasks like grocery shopping and hebrew lessons. But in Jerusalem nothing is boring. Haggling for fresh veggies (only 25 cents for an avocado!) in the open air bazaar or "shook" is unreal. As I stroll along the cramped, cobblestone alleys and peruse the smorgasbord of spices, nuts and dried fruit, I can't help but wonder whether I was transported back to the 1800's or to the set of one of Spielberg's latest films. Wherever I am-it certainly doesn't feel like reality.
But I am quickly snapped back into modernity when I hit King George St-the central point of downtown Jerusalem. The cobble stone alleys are filled with pubs, dance clubs and hookah joints open till early morning and the owners definitely don't mind us Rothberg students. Last night we gave our brains a much deserved break and went out. There's something about dancing to Lady Gaga in Jerusalem that makes it ten times more fun...I spent my "yom shishi" (Friday) enjoying a Tu B'Shvat Festival in the center of the city. There was live music, theatrical trees and of course fresh plants aplenty in honor of the harvest festival.
I just heard the siren that sounds throughout the entire city indicating the start of Shabbat and am looking forward to it. With few cars on the street and almost nothing open, the city assumes a state of indescribable serenity and the heaping portions of challah, hummus and other "comfort" foods doled out on Friday night and Saturday afternoon don't hurt either!
Most of this week was spent completing seemingly normal, mundane tasks like grocery shopping and hebrew lessons. But in Jerusalem nothing is boring. Haggling for fresh veggies (only 25 cents for an avocado!) in the open air bazaar or "shook" is unreal. As I stroll along the cramped, cobblestone alleys and peruse the smorgasbord of spices, nuts and dried fruit, I can't help but wonder whether I was transported back to the 1800's or to the set of one of Spielberg's latest films. Wherever I am-it certainly doesn't feel like reality.
But I am quickly snapped back into modernity when I hit King George St-the central point of downtown Jerusalem. The cobble stone alleys are filled with pubs, dance clubs and hookah joints open till early morning and the owners definitely don't mind us Rothberg students. Last night we gave our brains a much deserved break and went out. There's something about dancing to Lady Gaga in Jerusalem that makes it ten times more fun...I spent my "yom shishi" (Friday) enjoying a Tu B'Shvat Festival in the center of the city. There was live music, theatrical trees and of course fresh plants aplenty in honor of the harvest festival.
I just heard the siren that sounds throughout the entire city indicating the start of Shabbat and am looking forward to it. With few cars on the street and almost nothing open, the city assumes a state of indescribable serenity and the heaping portions of challah, hummus and other "comfort" foods doled out on Friday night and Saturday afternoon don't hurt either!
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