Tuesday Night, I took a seat at the local pizza place, eventually ordering a slice. The reason I went was not to eat, but to watch:
I know filming a video is rather silly, but the ceremony on Har Herzl was really well done. The first part that I saw was a dance with screens to the singing of a Jewish Mystical prayer (אנא בכח) and the religious vs national elements continued to mesh together. Later, 12 people lit torches, representing the 12 Tribes of Israel. Many came from families of or involved with Tel Aviv, since the city is celebrating its 100 year anniversary. It was at this place that the festivities were supposed to kick off for Independence Day (there was a little delay and fireworks went off in another city first). From there, I bussed into downtown Jerusalem, only to find things of a different nature, such as children up way past their bedtimes, stages and concerts every few blocks, and hoards of Israeli dancers.
The Centers of it All
It was much like Purim, except that there were even more people, and perhaps because of Yom Hazikaron, it was a more profound pride and celebration, not so much the heavy drinking and fooling around I'd seen before. Everyone was draped in flags and hats. Did I mention fireworks?
The festivities were set to go until 3-4, but I didn't stay that long. What I didn't realize was that Yom Haatzmaut is really spent in one night, while the day is spent barbecuing with the family. The entire country smelled like charcoal. But I woke up early, feeling it was necessary to visit the one city I had been missing all along: Tel Aviv.
The day started out very slowly, since there was terrible traffic once again on Route 1. I made it to the New Bus Station, with its 7 levels and much cheaper but not kosher food, and explore the center of town, such as the municipality building, and Rabin Square. Bike riders and passerby all stopped for a few moments at the memorial.
The streets were really empty, I mean really, for a large city, it was disconcerting, so I headed toward the beach, where I found everybody, BBQing, chilling in the sand, etc. The weather was perfect too, as I only remember visiting Tel Aviv in winter.
Then I decided the best place to wrap up was at היכל העצמאות, which can be translated as hall, shrine of sanctuary of Independence. It was there, on this day 61 years ago (according to the Jewish Calendar) that the first Prime Minister of Israel publicly read Israel's very carefully worded Declaration, calling the Jewish State Israel.
and it was closed when I got there. Tough luck.
I had been inside a few years before, so I didn't mind so much, but it further showed how the country spends the day relaxing with family and friends (it was open late the night before). With that, I headed back to the station, and Jerusalem, on what was a surprisingly calm but proud day in Israeli history.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Land of Memories: Yom Hazikaron ארץ של זכרונות
טקס (Ceremony)
Yom Hazikaron Day
The afternoon was all about the Old City. I came to run a few errands, and while roaming the streets of the Shuk noticed that soldiers were at every turn. Then I stopped by the Kotel and found all kinds of security personnel, and the entire plaza closed off to prayer (the only way in was through the Western Wall Tunnel Tours). I realized that the ceremony was worth attending, so I got dinner near Ben Yehuda and came back to the Western Wall. I waited a good hour and a half before the ceremony, spending some of it chatting with a Catholic Texan on the way to conversion. I'll tell you, that was an experience. Soon the area filled up, as well as the reserved seats with soldiers, and before I knew it, the flag was being lowered, and the entire country was shutting itself down with the blast of the alarm. The President then spoke, then the Ramatcal (IDF Chief of Staff), and then there were prayers and hatikvah.
This is the worst effort I can make in explaining what happened, so these should help you feel it better.
Afterward, I followed the locals back to the Kotel, being one of the first to return to the scene. It was nice praying with soldiers, there was a greater sense of urgency. I then took a friend's suggestion and visited a lecture and bagel dinner (all free) with a soldier, but I quickly realized the soldier was really a chabadnik, and after sitting through him and his video saying Yom Hazikaron remembers those killed in terrorist attacks for no other reason than being Jewish, I left, disappointed with the ignorance of the orthodox and their disgraceful excuse for a bagel.
Tonight I got lost in an entirely unknown part of the Old City, the Jewish Quarter, the real Jewish Quarter, where everybody lives. I passed a harmonica player, trying to drown out the dark and lonely silence that had come to rest there. There was nobody out anywhere, except a few soldiers having private ceremonies. I found some Rothberg students and together we walked back to Ben Yehuda St., also eerily empty, to catch a bus back. The real day, though, had just begun.
Tuesday I took a school trip with a few others. Leaving Jerusalem, we spent the day exploring and discussing important strategic point along the route to Jerusalem, fought over during the War of Independence. We visited Har Adar (a play on its real name, radar), a hill that overlooked the area, which Israel (a few weeks before Israel) took over and then lost. Before we continued, we went down the mountain to the Palmach cemetery of Kiryat Anavim, for an official Memorial Day ceremony.
The Palmach were one of many separate Jewish brigades responsible for defending the territories before Israel's declaration of statehood. Until that time, The Jews and their makeshift malitia were battling the Arab equivalent: private volunteer armies. However, one Ben Gurion read the Declaration in Tel Aviv, basically overnight those private groups turned into Egypt, Syria, Jordan, even Libya, Yemen, and others, and their armies. Israel had to unite its forces or else, and these militia didn't like each other, but they had no choice. The Israel Defense Forces were established, and after nearly two full years of fighting (November 1947 until July 1949) the fighting ended for a little while. The Palmach, as well as the other groups, had little training, little equipment, and little experience. People were enlisted right off the boat, and often without even a rifle. Therefore, many were lost, and many were very young. The ceremony was much like the one from the night before at the Kotel, however afterwards we discussed the implications of its elements. First, there was a two minute siren heard nationwide. Then, a Rabbi in the army (harder to find because many religious Israeli's don't serve) read a memorial prayer, another said El Maley, and another said Kaddish. So far, the entire ceremony was purely religious, with the sirens being an idea taken from Japan but echoing the ancient Shofar blasts used for spreading important times across the country. However, it's important to recognize that not all soldiers are Jewish, and even more so, many, if not most Israelis are far from observant. Therefore, the next speaker was a government official, and a really important one at that. His name is Matan Vilnai, is the assistant Defense Minister, meaning he's got a lot of say in what goes on with the military. He spoke quickly, and then there was a ceremony of putting wreaths on the stage, followed by a 21 gun salute and Hatikvah. Therefore, the second half of the ceremony was national, and while the lines are blurred, there weren't any religious undertones to this segment,
After the ceremony, we got to hear a few words from Vilnai,
and then we headed to Kastel, another strategic point overlooking the road to Jerusalem, Sha'ar Hagai, known in Arabic as Bab el Waad, or in english the gate of the valley. Only through this narrow valley could you get to Jerusalem, and Arab forces who were stationed on the lookouts controlled the roads. The Jews therefore made a bypass road named Burma Road, and they also tried to get Kastel (and the other lookouts, which they failed to get until '67). The story of Kastel is very bloody. The Jews captured the Crusader fortress, but then the Arab legion returned. Interestingly, they were led by the Mufti of Jerusalem, al Husayni, who had been the national leader of the Arab forces, was killed when his troops came to recapture the sight. The Jewish Hagana retreated, but when they returned a little while later, they found it completely deserted, and recaptured it immediately. People believe the battle of Kastel lowered the moral of the Arab forces, because of the loss of their leader.
While at the fortress, one of our counselors told us a few stories about the army. He was in a special forces unit that would go deep into the Arab territories to find terrorists. He remembered being in Nablus and arresting a terrorist there, but before he did so the terrorist sent out his family from the house and then he ran out shooting. A few bullets flew right by the soldier's head. He said even from school, two people from his grade have died in terrorist attacks, and another in Gaza. When one tragedy hits, it affects a lot of people.
We took a long ride back to the dorms because of a car accident and everybody else returning from memorial services, but it allowed for some quality radio time, and all day every station plays slow and often nostalgic Israeli music. It sets the mood well.
I got back and wrote this much, before I found something else wonderful to listen to:
Yom Hazikaron Day
The afternoon was all about the Old City. I came to run a few errands, and while roaming the streets of the Shuk noticed that soldiers were at every turn. Then I stopped by the Kotel and found all kinds of security personnel, and the entire plaza closed off to prayer (the only way in was through the Western Wall Tunnel Tours). I realized that the ceremony was worth attending, so I got dinner near Ben Yehuda and came back to the Western Wall. I waited a good hour and a half before the ceremony, spending some of it chatting with a Catholic Texan on the way to conversion. I'll tell you, that was an experience. Soon the area filled up, as well as the reserved seats with soldiers, and before I knew it, the flag was being lowered, and the entire country was shutting itself down with the blast of the alarm. The President then spoke, then the Ramatcal (IDF Chief of Staff), and then there were prayers and hatikvah.
This is the worst effort I can make in explaining what happened, so these should help you feel it better.
Afterward, I followed the locals back to the Kotel, being one of the first to return to the scene. It was nice praying with soldiers, there was a greater sense of urgency. I then took a friend's suggestion and visited a lecture and bagel dinner (all free) with a soldier, but I quickly realized the soldier was really a chabadnik, and after sitting through him and his video saying Yom Hazikaron remembers those killed in terrorist attacks for no other reason than being Jewish, I left, disappointed with the ignorance of the orthodox and their disgraceful excuse for a bagel.
Tonight I got lost in an entirely unknown part of the Old City, the Jewish Quarter, the real Jewish Quarter, where everybody lives. I passed a harmonica player, trying to drown out the dark and lonely silence that had come to rest there. There was nobody out anywhere, except a few soldiers having private ceremonies. I found some Rothberg students and together we walked back to Ben Yehuda St., also eerily empty, to catch a bus back. The real day, though, had just begun.
Tuesday I took a school trip with a few others. Leaving Jerusalem, we spent the day exploring and discussing important strategic point along the route to Jerusalem, fought over during the War of Independence. We visited Har Adar (a play on its real name, radar), a hill that overlooked the area, which Israel (a few weeks before Israel) took over and then lost. Before we continued, we went down the mountain to the Palmach cemetery of Kiryat Anavim, for an official Memorial Day ceremony.
The Palmach were one of many separate Jewish brigades responsible for defending the territories before Israel's declaration of statehood. Until that time, The Jews and their makeshift malitia were battling the Arab equivalent: private volunteer armies. However, one Ben Gurion read the Declaration in Tel Aviv, basically overnight those private groups turned into Egypt, Syria, Jordan, even Libya, Yemen, and others, and their armies. Israel had to unite its forces or else, and these militia didn't like each other, but they had no choice. The Israel Defense Forces were established, and after nearly two full years of fighting (November 1947 until July 1949) the fighting ended for a little while. The Palmach, as well as the other groups, had little training, little equipment, and little experience. People were enlisted right off the boat, and often without even a rifle. Therefore, many were lost, and many were very young. The ceremony was much like the one from the night before at the Kotel, however afterwards we discussed the implications of its elements. First, there was a two minute siren heard nationwide. Then, a Rabbi in the army (harder to find because many religious Israeli's don't serve) read a memorial prayer, another said El Maley, and another said Kaddish. So far, the entire ceremony was purely religious, with the sirens being an idea taken from Japan but echoing the ancient Shofar blasts used for spreading important times across the country. However, it's important to recognize that not all soldiers are Jewish, and even more so, many, if not most Israelis are far from observant. Therefore, the next speaker was a government official, and a really important one at that. His name is Matan Vilnai, is the assistant Defense Minister, meaning he's got a lot of say in what goes on with the military. He spoke quickly, and then there was a ceremony of putting wreaths on the stage, followed by a 21 gun salute and Hatikvah. Therefore, the second half of the ceremony was national, and while the lines are blurred, there weren't any religious undertones to this segment,
After the ceremony, we got to hear a few words from Vilnai,
and then we headed to Kastel, another strategic point overlooking the road to Jerusalem, Sha'ar Hagai, known in Arabic as Bab el Waad, or in english the gate of the valley. Only through this narrow valley could you get to Jerusalem, and Arab forces who were stationed on the lookouts controlled the roads. The Jews therefore made a bypass road named Burma Road, and they also tried to get Kastel (and the other lookouts, which they failed to get until '67). The story of Kastel is very bloody. The Jews captured the Crusader fortress, but then the Arab legion returned. Interestingly, they were led by the Mufti of Jerusalem, al Husayni, who had been the national leader of the Arab forces, was killed when his troops came to recapture the sight. The Jewish Hagana retreated, but when they returned a little while later, they found it completely deserted, and recaptured it immediately. People believe the battle of Kastel lowered the moral of the Arab forces, because of the loss of their leader.
While at the fortress, one of our counselors told us a few stories about the army. He was in a special forces unit that would go deep into the Arab territories to find terrorists. He remembered being in Nablus and arresting a terrorist there, but before he did so the terrorist sent out his family from the house and then he ran out shooting. A few bullets flew right by the soldier's head. He said even from school, two people from his grade have died in terrorist attacks, and another in Gaza. When one tragedy hits, it affects a lot of people.
We took a long ride back to the dorms because of a car accident and everybody else returning from memorial services, but it allowed for some quality radio time, and all day every station plays slow and often nostalgic Israeli music. It sets the mood well.
I got back and wrote this much, before I found something else wonderful to listen to:
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Gallilee on Galgalim (wheels), This Time Around
Big Wheels Keep on Turning
The streets and highways were filling up with flags, while cars zoomed by with clipped ones, like the country had just made it to the Superbowl.
This I would have noticed on the bus ride up, but I took the 11:30 to Tiberias with Waxman. Where? To Tiberias. With about 24 hours notice, I was kindly invited by Romirowsky to bike around the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). I had been so busy, though, with a doctors appointment (GPC is official now, no more contacts for a while), laundering, and trying to unpack from Italy, that I had to say yes, but forgot my sneakers.
Wax and I arrived around 2:15 at the hostel, slept a few winks, and were off to bike, God it's still mind blowing, 56km, about 35 miles. Only, I hadn't ridden a bike since 11th grade, and never in my life for more than 2 hours. That was all about to change.
The weather was really perfect: hot, but cloudy and windy, so you didn't feel the burn from the sun, and the fans were on high the whole way, sometimes to the point of slowing you down.
And then the pain began to build, starting where the seat is supposed to serve a comfortable function. Then the soreness spread to the palms, perhaps because of past Palm Sunday, the Jesus Trail, or too much grip. But enough about the pain, I'm complaining without the convenience of context.
The path was mostly steady, with a few kilometers of steep uphill riding and walking, but only in the first hour or so. The Kinneret is 200m below sea level, so all the mountains around it really just go back up to the real shoreline, and those mountains were something else. The pictures and video don't even begin to tell you how small I felt, especially when I lagged behind, capturing them in one hand, and trying not to swerve into the buses and trucks on the road with my left. We rode by an ancient boat and other ruins, some of the earliest modern Jewish settlements, and the Jordan River, twice. I also passed a kibbutz where I stayed when I visited freshman year to paint bomb shelters in a school, as well as Poriya, where I was on Yam el Yam just two weeks ago.
Tiberias could not come sooner, and the signs meant nothing to me except smaller numbers. Once I arrived back in the city, I was a afraid for a moment that I wouldn't be able to find the hostel, since I hadn't come from the opposite direction, and was really having problems moving any part of my body (people were nearly walking faster than I was biking, imagine) but it lay on the main road. Two flights of stairs later I was sure I was gonna need surgery somewhere. I joined Theise, Rena, Waxman and Aliza on their beds, all wincing, we enjoyed sliced turkey, Bartenura, and the pita hummus and peanut butter we had been eating all day (as well as the pound of raisins I had brought, and the quarter pound they had brought), and sleep opened its doors early that night.
The next morning, we went to another beach, since, according to a ramah mishlachat staff member we passed while biking, beach season didn't start until Saturday. We found a place with incredible water slides, and Wax and I played all day, as well as played some ball games with the kids in the wave pool. It was a great day to the be at the beach, doing nothing but eating sliding and sleeping.
Then at night, everybody headed for the bus station to head back to Jerusalem, but I was hesitant since it takes to long to get up north and I didn't want to spend Sunday doing...homework!
The miracle took place at the bus station, where I found free wireless, and not only got a phone number, but even Google maps of Nazareth. Last semester, I had written a detailed study of the Greek constructions of the word in the New Testament Gospels, exploring the meanings of the different ways it was written (different vowels), and the audience it was written for, but all the while avoiding the problem that Nazareth isn't mentioned anywhere until later. I was interested in seeing any archaeological sites in the area, and was disappointed not to find any, but at least I had a dorm room waiting for me at the Fauzi Azar Inn, and even though I had to take two buses, got dropped off at the side of the road, and walked through an enormous and closed shuk, I found the 200 year old Arab mansion with its extra fancy blankets.
The next morning was not as I had expected, since everything was still closed. I stopped by the Church of the Annunciation, and the Church Synagogue, and then caught an early bus back up, to Jerusalem.
Shelter for the night
The streets and highways were filling up with flags, while cars zoomed by with clipped ones, like the country had just made it to the Superbowl.
This I would have noticed on the bus ride up, but I took the 11:30 to Tiberias with Waxman. Where? To Tiberias. With about 24 hours notice, I was kindly invited by Romirowsky to bike around the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). I had been so busy, though, with a doctors appointment (GPC is official now, no more contacts for a while), laundering, and trying to unpack from Italy, that I had to say yes, but forgot my sneakers.
Wax and I arrived around 2:15 at the hostel, slept a few winks, and were off to bike, God it's still mind blowing, 56km, about 35 miles. Only, I hadn't ridden a bike since 11th grade, and never in my life for more than 2 hours. That was all about to change.
The weather was really perfect: hot, but cloudy and windy, so you didn't feel the burn from the sun, and the fans were on high the whole way, sometimes to the point of slowing you down.
And then the pain began to build, starting where the seat is supposed to serve a comfortable function. Then the soreness spread to the palms, perhaps because of past Palm Sunday, the Jesus Trail, or too much grip. But enough about the pain, I'm complaining without the convenience of context.
The path was mostly steady, with a few kilometers of steep uphill riding and walking, but only in the first hour or so. The Kinneret is 200m below sea level, so all the mountains around it really just go back up to the real shoreline, and those mountains were something else. The pictures and video don't even begin to tell you how small I felt, especially when I lagged behind, capturing them in one hand, and trying not to swerve into the buses and trucks on the road with my left. We rode by an ancient boat and other ruins, some of the earliest modern Jewish settlements, and the Jordan River, twice. I also passed a kibbutz where I stayed when I visited freshman year to paint bomb shelters in a school, as well as Poriya, where I was on Yam el Yam just two weeks ago.
Tiberias could not come sooner, and the signs meant nothing to me except smaller numbers. Once I arrived back in the city, I was a afraid for a moment that I wouldn't be able to find the hostel, since I hadn't come from the opposite direction, and was really having problems moving any part of my body (people were nearly walking faster than I was biking, imagine) but it lay on the main road. Two flights of stairs later I was sure I was gonna need surgery somewhere. I joined Theise, Rena, Waxman and Aliza on their beds, all wincing, we enjoyed sliced turkey, Bartenura, and the pita hummus and peanut butter we had been eating all day (as well as the pound of raisins I had brought, and the quarter pound they had brought), and sleep opened its doors early that night.
The next morning, we went to another beach, since, according to a ramah mishlachat staff member we passed while biking, beach season didn't start until Saturday. We found a place with incredible water slides, and Wax and I played all day, as well as played some ball games with the kids in the wave pool. It was a great day to the be at the beach, doing nothing but eating sliding and sleeping.
Then at night, everybody headed for the bus station to head back to Jerusalem, but I was hesitant since it takes to long to get up north and I didn't want to spend Sunday doing...homework!
The miracle took place at the bus station, where I found free wireless, and not only got a phone number, but even Google maps of Nazareth. Last semester, I had written a detailed study of the Greek constructions of the word in the New Testament Gospels, exploring the meanings of the different ways it was written (different vowels), and the audience it was written for, but all the while avoiding the problem that Nazareth isn't mentioned anywhere until later. I was interested in seeing any archaeological sites in the area, and was disappointed not to find any, but at least I had a dorm room waiting for me at the Fauzi Azar Inn, and even though I had to take two buses, got dropped off at the side of the road, and walked through an enormous and closed shuk, I found the 200 year old Arab mansion with its extra fancy blankets.
The next morning was not as I had expected, since everything was still closed. I stopped by the Church of the Annunciation, and the Church Synagogue, and then caught an early bus back up, to Jerusalem.
Shelter for the night
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
יום השואה והגבורה Holocaust Memorial Day 2009
Photos
Monday night I saw a play about four prisoners in a concentration camp who were commanded to entertain the Nazis, as clowns. It was pretty good, and with a minimalistic set. Beforehand we heard the director give a short talk, and after the actors stayed for questions, and a holocaust survivor attended as well. She in fact had addressed the world on the live broadcast at Auschwitz for the 60th anniversary of the liberation.
The next morning at 7:30 (I slept 3 hours) I took a field trip north to an agricultural school from the 1870s called Mikveh Israel. There we learned about the machinery and techniques used, as well as the makeup of the community since it was part of the early Jewish immigration to Palestine...
The siren brought silence, all over the country. Afterward, our teacher spoke for a while (the woman was the tour guide). I can't explain to you through any means how it felt to be sitting conducting normal business and then instantly having everything stop. Everything. People got out of their cars, for two minutes, and stared at the ground. Only the birds broke the silence. It was moving beyond any movement. This was Yom Hashoah.
We traveled on to Rishon Letzion, where we explored the original Synagogue, pharmacy, discussed how it was the first place where the to-be modern flag was used, and the anthem sung, and then in the park, next to the site where they dug 13 stories to find water, our teacher brought forth two bottles of wine, and we had a short lechayim at the end of the trip in memory of those lost and in recognition of the land that we were standing on.
Monday night I saw a play about four prisoners in a concentration camp who were commanded to entertain the Nazis, as clowns. It was pretty good, and with a minimalistic set. Beforehand we heard the director give a short talk, and after the actors stayed for questions, and a holocaust survivor attended as well. She in fact had addressed the world on the live broadcast at Auschwitz for the 60th anniversary of the liberation.
The next morning at 7:30 (I slept 3 hours) I took a field trip north to an agricultural school from the 1870s called Mikveh Israel. There we learned about the machinery and techniques used, as well as the makeup of the community since it was part of the early Jewish immigration to Palestine...
The siren brought silence, all over the country. Afterward, our teacher spoke for a while (the woman was the tour guide). I can't explain to you through any means how it felt to be sitting conducting normal business and then instantly having everything stop. Everything. People got out of their cars, for two minutes, and stared at the ground. Only the birds broke the silence. It was moving beyond any movement. This was Yom Hashoah.
We traveled on to Rishon Letzion, where we explored the original Synagogue, pharmacy, discussed how it was the first place where the to-be modern flag was used, and the anthem sung, and then in the park, next to the site where they dug 13 stories to find water, our teacher brought forth two bottles of wine, and we had a short lechayim at the end of the trip in memory of those lost and in recognition of the land that we were standing on.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Muhlenberg Effect
ROME REVISITED PHOTOS
Last Day
Italy has clearly touched some hearts in the Muhlenberg community, and I watched the love for the land blossom while I racked up detailed emails suggesting interesting destinations all over the country. My Religion Studies professor told me it was his favorite city, and Nina, well, you told me in a few more words, but I decided to make a day using them as my guides, and where they led me took the trip to a whole 'nother level:
I woke to the leaky cloud again, since it drizzled continuously all day, until the late afternoon. I misunderstood the directions I had photographed of the bus to the outskirts of the town, but I eventually found my way, making up for the wasted Euro with a free bus ride (my treat). I landed in the open hilly fields where located underneath were the ancient Christian catacombs of San Callisto, San Sebastiano, and San Domitilla. I started with Callisto, where I was followed an English tour, learning about the sites layout and submitting to my addiction of photographing and filming in prohibited areas. The catacombs went four levels down, 60m underground, 20km of labyrinths, and containing half a million tombs, and lots of small ones for babies and children.
Catacombs were made because of a special tufo rock which was very soft, but would harden when exposed to air. The Romans cremated their dead, so only the Jews, Christians, and some pagans buried their dead, and had to do so in private and outside of the city. There were 60 catacombs discovered, 5 open to the public, and 2 of 7 discovered Jewish catacombs. San Callisto contains the tombs of 9 Popes, as well as a few frescoes. Most of the bones were removed in order to honor the dead, and since the underground layers are humid most of the frescoes had faded. However, a little has survived as is well protected. The way I learned it in class, artists were hired to paint pictures, and since they weren't necessarily Christian (infrastructure was difficult) they would present a book of what they could do, so generic religious images were used by pagans, Jews, and Christians. There were more specific symbols as well, such as the Chi Rho, but because the catacombs were used from the 2nd-5th centuries and then again later, it's hard to date the artifacts, and a lot of history took place over that time, such as Christianity becoming an accepted and official Roman faith.
After San Callisto, I walked to San Sebastiano, which was closed for a few hours. I explored the church, where you can see Jesus' footprints, and the arrows that killed Saint Sebastiano, but I got restless. I purchased some Italian Ritzs with the limited cash I had left, impressed that Philadelphia was written on the back, and went on an adventure for the third area of catacombs. I found San Domitilla, but had no cash to pay for entry, so I had to walk to the center of the town, learn how to ask for a bank in Italian, but it all worked out in the end, and I we found the catacombs in a 4th century Church built underground. San Callisto had the most tombs of all the catacombs found, but San Domitilla was the largest, running even more long and narrow paths, many floors down. I eventually got a little sick of all the dead, so I took the advice of an unexpected english speaking couple and took a different bus back to Giovanni, where I walked to San Clemente Church, where underneath I visited layer after layer of civilization, like a walk around Jerusalem. The excavations included the Roman street level from the 2nd Century, a Roman house built right into a spring, a Mithraic Temple and school, a Church in memory of Pope Clement, and some wonderful preserved frescoes. I also broke the rules here, but only after I saw so many other doing so, since the place was very high tech with special lighting and automated security chains. Mind you I had to be covert about my activity, as in the catacombs:
From there I started to feel the hunger for dinner, but I knew of a better place, and on the way I stopped at Piazza Del Pasquindo a little square used for political protests since the Middle Ages (according to Nina, since I'm illiterate). Then I passed the Pantheon, and arrived at Della Palma, the greatest gellateria ever, with every pleasing taste imaginable available in a cup or cone
I left the first time with kinder chocolate, something with raspberries and cream, and something with pears. The mistake I made was in getting a cone, because I had about two minutes before the ice cream became hand cream. It was a tremendous feast of sweets, that I would remember for a long time, and dream of returning to until the next day...
By now the sun and begun to drop, and I wasn't far from it, so I headed to the Jewish ghetto and went back to the Synagogue that threw me out, for services. I got a bite size tuna sandwich out of it, as well as fresh spearmint, but I couldn't really follow anything, once again, because the cantor used very unique melodies. I then went five meters to browse the kosher restaurants that had just opened. I settled for fettuccine with beef stew sauce...matza was included too. How thoughtful.
This capped off the day, and I headed back to make sure none of my dirty clothes had been stolen from the bag I was borrowing from my counselor.
Sunday I woke and ran, to knock off the last sight I had been told to visit: the Capuchin Crypt, a spectacular artistic arrangement of friars from the 16-19th Centuries arranged in religious scenes, and along the ceilings. It was partially disgusting, even moreso than the catacombs I had roamed through the day before, but it was also pretty, and with poor eyesight it was like an art museum with a Hitchcock soundtrack guiding your way.
From there I went back again to the Ghetto and then to Della Palma, this time for caramel Nutella, mint chocolate chip, and watermelon. all magnifico. I caught the regional rail to Fumiciano (Da Vinci) airport, where they wouldn't let me pass security with the Hebrew Nestea bottle I had used and reused the whole trip, because water kills in Italy. One flight after another was delayed, so I got to Turkey late, sat with some very (=normal) talkative Israelis, and arrived in Tel Aviv at 2:30 am. I was even honored with a special Kosher for Passover meal on the second flight. Why taunt?
From there I made it to the apartment by way of a beautifully vivid crescent moon, just like the one in the Colosseum graffitti, crashed at about 5:30, skipped one class to sleep, but woke up for a field trip to the Southern Wall excavations of the Old City. I'll stop there, but I think you can see that my life has shed its dullness for almost a month now, since my parents started coming.
I also want to update you on my class schedule before I forget:
ATH-155 Rise of Ancient Civilizations
ATH-240 Witchcraft, Magic & Sorcery
ATH-388 Human Osteology
THR-240-04 Acting 1: Process
This means for the first time (I think) no religion classes, but yes to sophomore theater.
Finally, I updated the earlier posts from Italy with the videos I you missed, so check them out, it most cases they're better than the pictures!
accumulated web sites from trip
YESH Kosher Restaurant in Rome
// BA GHETTO //
Kosher in Bologna
Yotvata Kasher : Restaurants : Roma : Italia : Italy : Pesach - passover - Seder - matzà - Maror - kosher for passover :
Taverna del Ghetto
Underground Rome - Explore Subterranean Wonders Beneath Rome
Vatican Excavations - Tips for Visiting the Vatican Scavi
Basilica & Catacombe di San Sebastiano in Rome - Lonely Planet Travel Information
Catacombs of Rome - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
San Sebastiano fuori le mura - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
List of papal tombs - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Basilica di San Clemente in Rome - Lonely Planet Travel Information
Basilica San Clemente Roma
Basilica di San Clemente - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Piazza Navona in Rome - Lonely Planet Travel Information
Palatine Hill - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Last Day
Italy has clearly touched some hearts in the Muhlenberg community, and I watched the love for the land blossom while I racked up detailed emails suggesting interesting destinations all over the country. My Religion Studies professor told me it was his favorite city, and Nina, well, you told me in a few more words, but I decided to make a day using them as my guides, and where they led me took the trip to a whole 'nother level:
I woke to the leaky cloud again, since it drizzled continuously all day, until the late afternoon. I misunderstood the directions I had photographed of the bus to the outskirts of the town, but I eventually found my way, making up for the wasted Euro with a free bus ride (my treat). I landed in the open hilly fields where located underneath were the ancient Christian catacombs of San Callisto, San Sebastiano, and San Domitilla. I started with Callisto, where I was followed an English tour, learning about the sites layout and submitting to my addiction of photographing and filming in prohibited areas. The catacombs went four levels down, 60m underground, 20km of labyrinths, and containing half a million tombs, and lots of small ones for babies and children.
Catacombs were made because of a special tufo rock which was very soft, but would harden when exposed to air. The Romans cremated their dead, so only the Jews, Christians, and some pagans buried their dead, and had to do so in private and outside of the city. There were 60 catacombs discovered, 5 open to the public, and 2 of 7 discovered Jewish catacombs. San Callisto contains the tombs of 9 Popes, as well as a few frescoes. Most of the bones were removed in order to honor the dead, and since the underground layers are humid most of the frescoes had faded. However, a little has survived as is well protected. The way I learned it in class, artists were hired to paint pictures, and since they weren't necessarily Christian (infrastructure was difficult) they would present a book of what they could do, so generic religious images were used by pagans, Jews, and Christians. There were more specific symbols as well, such as the Chi Rho, but because the catacombs were used from the 2nd-5th centuries and then again later, it's hard to date the artifacts, and a lot of history took place over that time, such as Christianity becoming an accepted and official Roman faith.
After San Callisto, I walked to San Sebastiano, which was closed for a few hours. I explored the church, where you can see Jesus' footprints, and the arrows that killed Saint Sebastiano, but I got restless. I purchased some Italian Ritzs with the limited cash I had left, impressed that Philadelphia was written on the back, and went on an adventure for the third area of catacombs. I found San Domitilla, but had no cash to pay for entry, so I had to walk to the center of the town, learn how to ask for a bank in Italian, but it all worked out in the end, and I we found the catacombs in a 4th century Church built underground. San Callisto had the most tombs of all the catacombs found, but San Domitilla was the largest, running even more long and narrow paths, many floors down. I eventually got a little sick of all the dead, so I took the advice of an unexpected english speaking couple and took a different bus back to Giovanni, where I walked to San Clemente Church, where underneath I visited layer after layer of civilization, like a walk around Jerusalem. The excavations included the Roman street level from the 2nd Century, a Roman house built right into a spring, a Mithraic Temple and school, a Church in memory of Pope Clement, and some wonderful preserved frescoes. I also broke the rules here, but only after I saw so many other doing so, since the place was very high tech with special lighting and automated security chains. Mind you I had to be covert about my activity, as in the catacombs:
From there I started to feel the hunger for dinner, but I knew of a better place, and on the way I stopped at Piazza Del Pasquindo a little square used for political protests since the Middle Ages (according to Nina, since I'm illiterate). Then I passed the Pantheon, and arrived at Della Palma, the greatest gellateria ever, with every pleasing taste imaginable available in a cup or cone
I left the first time with kinder chocolate, something with raspberries and cream, and something with pears. The mistake I made was in getting a cone, because I had about two minutes before the ice cream became hand cream. It was a tremendous feast of sweets, that I would remember for a long time, and dream of returning to until the next day...
By now the sun and begun to drop, and I wasn't far from it, so I headed to the Jewish ghetto and went back to the Synagogue that threw me out, for services. I got a bite size tuna sandwich out of it, as well as fresh spearmint, but I couldn't really follow anything, once again, because the cantor used very unique melodies. I then went five meters to browse the kosher restaurants that had just opened. I settled for fettuccine with beef stew sauce...matza was included too. How thoughtful.
This capped off the day, and I headed back to make sure none of my dirty clothes had been stolen from the bag I was borrowing from my counselor.
Sunday I woke and ran, to knock off the last sight I had been told to visit: the Capuchin Crypt, a spectacular artistic arrangement of friars from the 16-19th Centuries arranged in religious scenes, and along the ceilings. It was partially disgusting, even moreso than the catacombs I had roamed through the day before, but it was also pretty, and with poor eyesight it was like an art museum with a Hitchcock soundtrack guiding your way.
From there I went back again to the Ghetto and then to Della Palma, this time for caramel Nutella, mint chocolate chip, and watermelon. all magnifico. I caught the regional rail to Fumiciano (Da Vinci) airport, where they wouldn't let me pass security with the Hebrew Nestea bottle I had used and reused the whole trip, because water kills in Italy. One flight after another was delayed, so I got to Turkey late, sat with some very (=normal) talkative Israelis, and arrived in Tel Aviv at 2:30 am. I was even honored with a special Kosher for Passover meal on the second flight. Why taunt?
From there I made it to the apartment by way of a beautifully vivid crescent moon, just like the one in the Colosseum graffitti, crashed at about 5:30, skipped one class to sleep, but woke up for a field trip to the Southern Wall excavations of the Old City. I'll stop there, but I think you can see that my life has shed its dullness for almost a month now, since my parents started coming.
I also want to update you on my class schedule before I forget:
ATH-155 Rise of Ancient Civilizations
ATH-240 Witchcraft, Magic & Sorcery
ATH-388 Human Osteology
THR-240-04 Acting 1: Process
This means for the first time (I think) no religion classes, but yes to sophomore theater.
Finally, I updated the earlier posts from Italy with the videos I you missed, so check them out, it most cases they're better than the pictures!
accumulated web sites from trip
Friday, April 17, 2009
Fairly Wet Verona and the Holy Sees Double
Thursday morning, we grabbed an early waterbus, amidst some leaky clouds, and stopped by Murano for about half and hour. This allowed for a quick glimpse into the art of glass blowing, and some stops along the closest road, but not much else, so I bought nothing but admired the color and shine of the various exhibits. We were on a tight schedule because we were catching the next dry land vehicle out of here.
For a change form the typical tourist's track, we trained into Verona toward the evening, where another study abroad student offered her hospitality to us. I was especially grateful since I had no idea where to find the hostel I had booked. All I will ever know is that it was above a bakery. We roamed the streets, explored a castle, all the wall soaking up with rain. I had my first Italian Pizza that night, a stunning display of seasoned style and flavor. We also walked by the famous Juliet Statue, but it was unfortunately closed.
The next morning, well barely because we woke up at 4:45, our host walked us through the last of the night and puddles to the train station, and bid us farewell as we meandered through the countryside, with the dawn and 500g of yogurt for breakfast, back to Roma Termini.
Arriving at about 10am, we headed straights to the Vatican, where we found the cheapest tour available and had a nice walk through the largest museum in the richest state in the world. Among artifacts was an enormous bathtub made of Egyptian marble, a hall of Raphael tapestries, including a Jesus scene with an optical illusion, the Sistine Chapel, where pictures video and sound were bound and broken, and the post office. From there we went back to a special gellateria, suggested to us by the tour guide. It was expensive, but the flavors won them an award recently, so I tried meringue and honey, both sweet. That was pretty much the day since the girls were all heading back early in the morning, and I had no energy after the early wake up and pre-dawn hike. I found the ramahniks again in my hostel that night though, a wild coincidence repeated, and planned the remaining two days of my trip, now solo.
For a change form the typical tourist's track, we trained into Verona toward the evening, where another study abroad student offered her hospitality to us. I was especially grateful since I had no idea where to find the hostel I had booked. All I will ever know is that it was above a bakery. We roamed the streets, explored a castle, all the wall soaking up with rain. I had my first Italian Pizza that night, a stunning display of seasoned style and flavor. We also walked by the famous Juliet Statue, but it was unfortunately closed.
The next morning, well barely because we woke up at 4:45, our host walked us through the last of the night and puddles to the train station, and bid us farewell as we meandered through the countryside, with the dawn and 500g of yogurt for breakfast, back to Roma Termini.
Arriving at about 10am, we headed straights to the Vatican, where we found the cheapest tour available and had a nice walk through the largest museum in the richest state in the world. Among artifacts was an enormous bathtub made of Egyptian marble, a hall of Raphael tapestries, including a Jesus scene with an optical illusion, the Sistine Chapel, where pictures video and sound were bound and broken, and the post office. From there we went back to a special gellateria, suggested to us by the tour guide. It was expensive, but the flavors won them an award recently, so I tried meringue and honey, both sweet. That was pretty much the day since the girls were all heading back early in the morning, and I had no energy after the early wake up and pre-dawn hike. I found the ramahniks again in my hostel that night though, a wild coincidence repeated, and planned the remaining two days of my trip, now solo.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Venezia's Vinding Vater Vays
Railways and trains, watching fragments of I'm Not There, left me no track into this city's psyche. I'm only 21, and I haven't been to most places, but so far, Venice is the by far the most unique place I've ever seen. The ultimate tourist zone, barely anyone lives on the hundreds of islands anymore, but it's profoundly calming to be encouraged to get lost in the alleys between buildings, or over the bridges, and not once see any motor vehicles. The grass as protected in the few front yards of the residents, and the smells of fish compete with the restaurants on the Grand Canal. The ways around the city are so confusing that it's near impossible to find a free map, so for most of the day I had none, and followed the group, but after St. Mark I went on my own and found, of all places, a Best Western with a microprint map of the city.
Where did we go? Well, we found our hostel by waterbus and by miracle, since someone staying there passed us by. The place could have been put together in a day. It was in an old building, of course, with an office of a table with computers stealing internet from another network, in a large room. The good ews was free dinner and breakfast! We dropped off our stuff and got going.
From a Jewish historical perspective, the first ghetto (Italian) was established in Venice, so it was essential I get to that area. However, traditionally, it was the last two days of Passover, so I anticipated everything would be closed. We walked first to a teeny pasta place, where I finished the muffins I bought in Florence, and then we went to the Ghetto. Right outside one of the entrances, which basically cut through buildings, we found a Kosher restaurant. What's more, it was OPEN. What do you know? I stepped inside, but there was no turning back. We had found Chabad, and Chabad had now found us. They begged us to come in for a little food, we said we had a tight schedule. They promised a five minute meal. Forty-five minutes later we had consumed hot and watery but well seasoned chicken soup, chicken and veggies, and a ton of extra cardboard flavored matzah. I talked a while with one of the guys there, who was learning to become a Rabbi. There was a Chabad Yeshiva nearby, as well as five Synagogues, but only one was in use. Also, there were really three ghettos, an old one, a newer one, built about fifty years after the first, and another small one. We walked inside, and took some pictures of the Synagogue doors and Holocaust memorials. It was all we could do to avoid staying the afternoon. Those guys have tight grips.
From the Ghetto we went looking for St. Mark's the major landmark of Venice. We did so by way of a gondola ride. It was...pleasant:
Also on the way I found something commedia del 'artsy for Shoshboat. The basilica was huge at St. Mark
And then there were pigeons. Someone got the idea to feed the birddies with the Matza I had shchlepped all over Italy, and they had accumulated at Chabad. The birds appreciated the feast. Then the group returned to the hostel and I went to climb the tower. Well, climb isn't the right word. I was expecting another 463 steps, but found none, just an elevator. I ascended the tower, got a beautful view of the city, and then heard the bells ring! That was borderline traumatic. There was just one bell used in the tower, and others nearby, but this one bell was so powerful I understood why there were bars on all the lookouts. Those left on top had their hands in their ears, and others ran into the elevator. It was pretty funny.
I then took an hour to get back to the hostel since I had to first find a map (until then I used one I had taken a picture of, on my camera) and recognize I was given the wrong location of the hostel. However by the time I got back, it was dark out, and dinner was just about ready. Since I have a place in Israel, I only have to celebrate 7 days of Passover, while everyone in Italy and outside of Israel, depending on denomination, observe eight. Especially in Venice I came to realize how richly I had been living, strolling the classical streets,exploring the well preserved relics of antiquity in Rome, but the whole time while eating poorly, meaning not a lot and nothing special, just crackers and chocolate mostly. That ended tonight, and it wasn't until my fourth of fifth mouthful of pasta that I realized I was finally eating genuine Italian food, without limit. It was indescribable. Later that night, I got my first gelatto, capping the cone with the clean breeze of the deeply enlightened skies.
Venice Pics
Where did we go? Well, we found our hostel by waterbus and by miracle, since someone staying there passed us by. The place could have been put together in a day. It was in an old building, of course, with an office of a table with computers stealing internet from another network, in a large room. The good ews was free dinner and breakfast! We dropped off our stuff and got going.
From a Jewish historical perspective, the first ghetto (Italian) was established in Venice, so it was essential I get to that area. However, traditionally, it was the last two days of Passover, so I anticipated everything would be closed. We walked first to a teeny pasta place, where I finished the muffins I bought in Florence, and then we went to the Ghetto. Right outside one of the entrances, which basically cut through buildings, we found a Kosher restaurant. What's more, it was OPEN. What do you know? I stepped inside, but there was no turning back. We had found Chabad, and Chabad had now found us. They begged us to come in for a little food, we said we had a tight schedule. They promised a five minute meal. Forty-five minutes later we had consumed hot and watery but well seasoned chicken soup, chicken and veggies, and a ton of extra cardboard flavored matzah. I talked a while with one of the guys there, who was learning to become a Rabbi. There was a Chabad Yeshiva nearby, as well as five Synagogues, but only one was in use. Also, there were really three ghettos, an old one, a newer one, built about fifty years after the first, and another small one. We walked inside, and took some pictures of the Synagogue doors and Holocaust memorials. It was all we could do to avoid staying the afternoon. Those guys have tight grips.
From the Ghetto we went looking for St. Mark's the major landmark of Venice. We did so by way of a gondola ride. It was...pleasant:
Also on the way I found something commedia del 'artsy for Shoshboat. The basilica was huge at St. Mark
And then there were pigeons. Someone got the idea to feed the birddies with the Matza I had shchlepped all over Italy, and they had accumulated at Chabad. The birds appreciated the feast. Then the group returned to the hostel and I went to climb the tower. Well, climb isn't the right word. I was expecting another 463 steps, but found none, just an elevator. I ascended the tower, got a beautful view of the city, and then heard the bells ring! That was borderline traumatic. There was just one bell used in the tower, and others nearby, but this one bell was so powerful I understood why there were bars on all the lookouts. Those left on top had their hands in their ears, and others ran into the elevator. It was pretty funny.
I then took an hour to get back to the hostel since I had to first find a map (until then I used one I had taken a picture of, on my camera) and recognize I was given the wrong location of the hostel. However by the time I got back, it was dark out, and dinner was just about ready. Since I have a place in Israel, I only have to celebrate 7 days of Passover, while everyone in Italy and outside of Israel, depending on denomination, observe eight. Especially in Venice I came to realize how richly I had been living, strolling the classical streets,exploring the well preserved relics of antiquity in Rome, but the whole time while eating poorly, meaning not a lot and nothing special, just crackers and chocolate mostly. That ended tonight, and it wasn't until my fourth of fifth mouthful of pasta that I realized I was finally eating genuine Italian food, without limit. It was indescribable. Later that night, I got my first gelatto, capping the cone with the clean breeze of the deeply enlightened skies.
Venice Pics
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Unleavened Adventures Continue: Firenze, and the Passover Pisa Pizza
Florence came and went in about two days. On first arrival, we lugged our bags through the leather market to one of the group's friends, Julie, who was studying abroad and had a magnificent apartment overlooking the city, and the central Duomo. After dropping off our stuff, we raced to the gothic Church, but since the line was so long, we just got on another train, for Pisa.
Unfortunately Pisa was also packed, and the tower climb wasn't for four hours form our arrival, so we headed to a pizza place, which we heard was very good. Seated outside, I heard the clanking and bicycle honking of the horse carriages marching tourists by the narrow streets, and the heavenly scents of fresh Pizza, entering my head and begging me to submit to temptation. I decided to take Passover to the next level.
When the waiter approached, I told him I couldn't eat bread, and, taking out my Shmora flat cakes, I told him to make a margarita pizza out of it. He obliged. Ten minutes later, I had two partially burnt, but genuine Italian matza pizzas on my plate. The mozzarella was magnifico.
Back in Florence, I headed to my hostel, but after walking for an hour and stopping multiple times at the address provided, I decided something wasn't in order. One of the local hostels was very helpful and called the phone number I had saved on my computer, directing me to a different address. I canceled immediately, and headed back to the Duomo to meet another friend of the group, en route to Passover restaurant for Dinner. But don't worry Mom, earlier in the day, Julie invited me to stay at her apartment, and while I didn't accept initially, let's just say her place was fantastic.
Dinner was held at a place called Ruth's, next door to the Florentine Synagogue, there was pictures of Woody Allen all over, and because there was a large group of NYU abroad students, we had free Coke and wine. It was the perfect life, and the first time I ordered three courses, all made out of matzah meal: Vegetable lasagna, gnocchi, and breaded tuna thingys. It was expensive but I wasn't paying that silly hostel, so I splurged. Even better, I now knew where the Synagogue was.
*It was at Ruth's, where I used their wifi and found out that Harry Kalas had left Philadelphia , and Baseball, for good. He will be missed.*
On the way back we explored the local nightlife, such as a magic show, and hava nagila.
The next morning, Sarah Caitlin and I were the first people in line to climb the Duomo tower. Breakfast consisted of a meringue, not as good as what Mom makes, though. Right behind us was a group of high school juniors, from Canada, who were traveling all over Europe over the course of two weeks. Their trip was under $100 and I was very jealous. The Duomo tower, like the Church of the Holy Redeemer, consisted of a lot of climbing steps. Unlike the Holy Redeemer, there were A LOT OF STEPS. To be precise, 463. The view, however, was fantastic and serene.
Afterward, we headed to the Synagogue, which was thankfully opened, since the holiday was in swing in the evening. I made a tour while Sarah and Caitlin went to see the tombs of Michelangelo Galileo and others at Santa Croce. There was even a kosher food market nearby, where I stocked up on tuna and muffins for the last two days.
Unlike the Synagogue in Rome, where they tell you not to take pictures AFTER you start, here they collect all your possessions and store them in lockers before you walk through the metal detector. The synagogue is located in the middle of a square, so it's really hard to find an entrance in general, but it adds to the skyline. The Synagogue itself was not built anywhere near the original ghetto of the area, so as to demonstrate Jewish freedom in the area (it was 120 years old). The site was used by the Nazis as a garage, and they then bombed one of the wings, later reconstructed. Also in the 80's a huge flood hit and you could see the 10 ft mark on the walls where the water had been. The interior was enormous and heavily influenced by other cultures and traditions. Since the place was Sephardic, there domes inside and the geometric arabesque designs made the place look like a Mosque. The again, there was an organ (no longer in use) and an elevated pulpit in front. I was told there are about 900 Jews in Florence, of Italian, Sephardic, and Ashkenazic origin, but they all use the one synagogue and have a school nearby. At the bookshop, I found an Italian translation of the storybook written by Gilad Shalit.
Following the tour I went back to Ruth's for lunch, where I got vegetables and rice (screw kitniyot) and met the rest of the group, which had made reservations earlier to see the David, at the apartment. We went to the train station for Venice tickets, and I ran most of the way to Piazza Michelangelo, a neat lookout on the outskirts of the city.
On the way back, I found the Pocono ramahniks studying in Israel, and it was very funny catching them, of all places, in Italy.
Tuesday night I went to services at the Synagogue, hoping to get invited to someone's place for dinner. That never happened. There were about 13 people there, eventually, and the melodies used made me feel like I was watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame or the Sound of Music, or sitting at the Vatican again listening to the men's choir. I was not familiar with the slow pace, but I did find an Israeli visiting, like me, so we chatted. Then I headed back to the apartment, and now I'm on the train to Venice.
***
NINA thanks so much for all the facts. You really know your stuff, and I can't tell you how excited I got reading all your tidbits and pointers. I don't know if I'll be able to hit them all, but I'll be sure to save the directions in my scrapbook!
Pictures
Unfortunately Pisa was also packed, and the tower climb wasn't for four hours form our arrival, so we headed to a pizza place, which we heard was very good. Seated outside, I heard the clanking and bicycle honking of the horse carriages marching tourists by the narrow streets, and the heavenly scents of fresh Pizza, entering my head and begging me to submit to temptation. I decided to take Passover to the next level.
When the waiter approached, I told him I couldn't eat bread, and, taking out my Shmora flat cakes, I told him to make a margarita pizza out of it. He obliged. Ten minutes later, I had two partially burnt, but genuine Italian matza pizzas on my plate. The mozzarella was magnifico.
Back in Florence, I headed to my hostel, but after walking for an hour and stopping multiple times at the address provided, I decided something wasn't in order. One of the local hostels was very helpful and called the phone number I had saved on my computer, directing me to a different address. I canceled immediately, and headed back to the Duomo to meet another friend of the group, en route to Passover restaurant for Dinner. But don't worry Mom, earlier in the day, Julie invited me to stay at her apartment, and while I didn't accept initially, let's just say her place was fantastic.
Dinner was held at a place called Ruth's, next door to the Florentine Synagogue, there was pictures of Woody Allen all over, and because there was a large group of NYU abroad students, we had free Coke and wine. It was the perfect life, and the first time I ordered three courses, all made out of matzah meal: Vegetable lasagna, gnocchi, and breaded tuna thingys. It was expensive but I wasn't paying that silly hostel, so I splurged. Even better, I now knew where the Synagogue was.
*It was at Ruth's, where I used their wifi and found out that Harry Kalas had left Philadelphia , and Baseball, for good. He will be missed.*
On the way back we explored the local nightlife, such as a magic show, and hava nagila.
The next morning, Sarah Caitlin and I were the first people in line to climb the Duomo tower. Breakfast consisted of a meringue, not as good as what Mom makes, though. Right behind us was a group of high school juniors, from Canada, who were traveling all over Europe over the course of two weeks. Their trip was under $100 and I was very jealous. The Duomo tower, like the Church of the Holy Redeemer, consisted of a lot of climbing steps. Unlike the Holy Redeemer, there were A LOT OF STEPS. To be precise, 463. The view, however, was fantastic and serene.
Afterward, we headed to the Synagogue, which was thankfully opened, since the holiday was in swing in the evening. I made a tour while Sarah and Caitlin went to see the tombs of Michelangelo Galileo and others at Santa Croce. There was even a kosher food market nearby, where I stocked up on tuna and muffins for the last two days.
Unlike the Synagogue in Rome, where they tell you not to take pictures AFTER you start, here they collect all your possessions and store them in lockers before you walk through the metal detector. The synagogue is located in the middle of a square, so it's really hard to find an entrance in general, but it adds to the skyline. The Synagogue itself was not built anywhere near the original ghetto of the area, so as to demonstrate Jewish freedom in the area (it was 120 years old). The site was used by the Nazis as a garage, and they then bombed one of the wings, later reconstructed. Also in the 80's a huge flood hit and you could see the 10 ft mark on the walls where the water had been. The interior was enormous and heavily influenced by other cultures and traditions. Since the place was Sephardic, there domes inside and the geometric arabesque designs made the place look like a Mosque. The again, there was an organ (no longer in use) and an elevated pulpit in front. I was told there are about 900 Jews in Florence, of Italian, Sephardic, and Ashkenazic origin, but they all use the one synagogue and have a school nearby. At the bookshop, I found an Italian translation of the storybook written by Gilad Shalit.
Following the tour I went back to Ruth's for lunch, where I got vegetables and rice (screw kitniyot) and met the rest of the group, which had made reservations earlier to see the David, at the apartment. We went to the train station for Venice tickets, and I ran most of the way to Piazza Michelangelo, a neat lookout on the outskirts of the city.
On the way back, I found the Pocono ramahniks studying in Israel, and it was very funny catching them, of all places, in Italy.
Tuesday night I went to services at the Synagogue, hoping to get invited to someone's place for dinner. That never happened. There were about 13 people there, eventually, and the melodies used made me feel like I was watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame or the Sound of Music, or sitting at the Vatican again listening to the men's choir. I was not familiar with the slow pace, but I did find an Israeli visiting, like me, so we chatted. Then I headed back to the apartment, and now I'm on the train to Venice.
***
NINA thanks so much for all the facts. You really know your stuff, and I can't tell you how excited I got reading all your tidbits and pointers. I don't know if I'll be able to hit them all, but I'll be sure to save the directions in my scrapbook!
Pictures
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Whe a Roma... di Pasqua
Previously in Ira's life: My world revolves around trains and busses. The first Passover food had, which was before the Seder, was a hotdog, in a bun, with a fries and a drink. It was all kosher, don't worry Dad...
The Passover Seder concludes with "Next year in Jerusalem." The next night, I was on the one public bus (and bullet proof at that) back to Jerusalem. BUT only for an hour, to gather my things, pack my suitcase worth of clothes and homework into a backpack that didn't belong to me, and head off to the airport.
The airport food got worse as I got further away. On the flight to Istanbul, the meal was matzoh with butter and fresh jam, and fish, but from Istanbul I got the French edition, a non-kosher for Passover Kosher can of ratatouille and fruit. I got by with the free gumballs I got at Ben Gurion airport from the Pelephone company. I barely slept though, so by the time I got to Rome, I was ready to sleepwalk to Piazza Bologna, where I was to be staying.
First observations in Rome were that graffiti was absolutely everywhere, and on everything. Whole trains were filled with the stuff, and the buildings had some too, but not as much. I followed the directions given by the Home in Rome, where I was staying, and before I had arrived, I knew the metro system. The Home was incredible! Huge room with two beds, nice views, TV, wi-fi, and best of all, free Kosher for Passover breakfast each morning!
The first place I went to was the Colosseum, because there were two other guys staying in the same place (from Israel and from the States but studying in Israel). Unfortunately, it was closed due to an evening appearance by the Pope. We walked around the area, looking at the Arches of Constantine and Titus, which the American reminded me Jews are forbidden from crossing under, and then we came back, and got ready for Shabbat. There is a very large Libyan Jewish populations in Rome, so I went to services at one of their synagogues, where I met the Chabad Rabbi. I had arranged through him to have a place for dinner, and he originally invited me to his place, but the other two guys were invited by one of the members, so I went with them. This guy had been in Israel for a little while, so he spoke Hebrew and Italian, and his kids spoke Hebrew too, except for his son who was the youngest and spoke English and Italian. So most of the meal, which consisted on tongues and chicken, was conducted in Hebrew. He also showed me some nifty Haggadot, some of which included Arabic versions of songs like Dayenu, but written in Hebrew.
Before I continue, I want to remind you that I am alone so far. I flew solo to Italy, in order to arrive before the group I was to meet, because they were flying out on Shabbat. I also had brought both my cellphones, but with no intention of using them.
Through Facebook, I arranged to meet with the group a the Trevi Fountain on Saturday at 12:30. I got there 15 minutes late, and it was packed, but I found them! They are Sarah, Caitlin, Jaime, and Carly, and we headed together back to the Colosseum, by way of some very cool graffiti artistry, and lots of National signs, which, as Sarah pointed out, are spelled Nazi Zion.
Following the canon of Sarah's Lonely Planet tour guide book, we walked through the Colosseum, and back through the this time open ruins. Of course I stood under the Arch of Titus. He's not here anymore and has no forwarding address. In addition, it appears that the arch was made by his successor, and therefore not a direct symbol of the victory in Jerusalem. We headed back to the Colosseum, where Carly had apparently made a vomit trail around the complex, due to over-exhaustion. So they headed back to their hostel, and I met them for dinner. We found a place across the street with vegetarian and gluten free options, so I got some weird tasteless dish called Orecchiette, while Sarah got Cannelloni. Mine was okay, but while we first laughed and wondered why her's said Gefullte in German, we found out because it wasn't chopped up fish inside. After that affair, we walked to the Spanish Steps, and explored the local obelisks, one of which containing a statute of Moses holding a scroll in Hebrew. Then we called it an Erev Pasqua night.
Sunday was of course Easter Sunday. In Hebrew פיסחה land Italian Pasqua, like Pesach. Sarah and I were determined to make it the Vatican in the early morning, and it was pretty sweet. People of course were everywhere, the guards looked ridiculous, and I made a Matzah note which I thought was pretty clever, except that I'm sure I made some think I was a Jew for Jesus. There was some fine hymn renditions by an American Men's choir, and then the Pope said a few words, before we took off and met the rest at the Pantheon. The Pantheon, which means temple for the gods, and not only enormous, but contains the burial spot of Raphael. It has a whole in the roof, and strategically placed holes in the floor to drain rain water.
We then walked, me with my box of Tam Tams, to Piazza Navona by way of Hadrian's Temple and some neat street performances, such as glass playing at human sculptures After the Piazza, we headed south to the Jewish Ghetto, which was closed completely. However, the Synagogue was open, so we took a tour. Mind you, there were guards around the perimeter, because in the 80's there was a terrorist attack. There were also no pictures allowed. I broke that rule. A lot. I got caught the first time in the museum area, where all these clothes were stored from hundreds of years earlier, as well as remnants from early Jewish catacombs and gravestones. This harsh woman in a red blouse warned me, so I put the camera away until we entered the main sanctuary. This chamber was enormous, including an extremely high ceiling, and quotes around the corners. Then, after that tour, I found my way back to the museum, where I found a very interesting bit about the Roman Jewish community's relationship with Israel. Once the state was established, the chief Rabbi of Rome gathered the community under the Arch of Titus, something that hadn't ever been done. However, the community had been critical at times of Israel's actions, such as during the first Lebanon War in the 80's (the subject of a massacre that took place, and was the same subject as the Oscar nominated film "Waltz with Bashir"). However, soon after the terrorist attack hit the Synagogue, and Israeli nationalism became unconditional. I was taking a picture of a neat photo of Israeli flags waving in front of the Colosseum, when this same red woman found me and was waiting to close the museum. She took me to the front desk, and had me walked out to the guards.
Now my natural reaction to a situation like this is that I start to tremble, because I don't know what's coming, even though I have a vague idea. I understand the consequences of my actions, but it doesn't mean I agree with them. Therefore, while having a mini panic attack, and without looking, I made the most of my final 60 seconds in the Synagogue gates, and popped open my camera, taking out the card with all the pictures of the Synagogue and the trip on it, slipping it in my back pocket. Then I thought, if the guard looks at the camera, he won't see any card, so he'll really have my number, so I slipped another camera card quickly into the camera, while following behind one of the museum employees on the way out. Then I thought, if the guard doesn't see any pictures on the camera, he'll know something's up, so I started taking pictures left and right without looking, all the way out the gate. The guard saw my blurry incoherent pictures, and said "thank you, bye bye."
Dinner was a whole trout and potatoes, overpriced at a tourist restaurant near the Trevi Fountain, and then I headed back to the Home in Rome one last time. I have to mention that I rushed out in the morning for the Vatican, and forgot my map, so without the group I had no form of navigation all day. Excellent. I'm writing this now on the train to Florence, wondering what's going to happen next, and whether the hostel I booked is really a hostel.
Note: Because the internet access depends on the location, things may get sloppier multimedia wise. I'll try my best
Pictures:
Rome 1
Rome 2
next stop, Firenze
The Passover Seder concludes with "Next year in Jerusalem." The next night, I was on the one public bus (and bullet proof at that) back to Jerusalem. BUT only for an hour, to gather my things, pack my suitcase worth of clothes and homework into a backpack that didn't belong to me, and head off to the airport.
The airport food got worse as I got further away. On the flight to Istanbul, the meal was matzoh with butter and fresh jam, and fish, but from Istanbul I got the French edition, a non-kosher for Passover Kosher can of ratatouille and fruit. I got by with the free gumballs I got at Ben Gurion airport from the Pelephone company. I barely slept though, so by the time I got to Rome, I was ready to sleepwalk to Piazza Bologna, where I was to be staying.
First observations in Rome were that graffiti was absolutely everywhere, and on everything. Whole trains were filled with the stuff, and the buildings had some too, but not as much. I followed the directions given by the Home in Rome, where I was staying, and before I had arrived, I knew the metro system. The Home was incredible! Huge room with two beds, nice views, TV, wi-fi, and best of all, free Kosher for Passover breakfast each morning!
The first place I went to was the Colosseum, because there were two other guys staying in the same place (from Israel and from the States but studying in Israel). Unfortunately, it was closed due to an evening appearance by the Pope. We walked around the area, looking at the Arches of Constantine and Titus, which the American reminded me Jews are forbidden from crossing under, and then we came back, and got ready for Shabbat. There is a very large Libyan Jewish populations in Rome, so I went to services at one of their synagogues, where I met the Chabad Rabbi. I had arranged through him to have a place for dinner, and he originally invited me to his place, but the other two guys were invited by one of the members, so I went with them. This guy had been in Israel for a little while, so he spoke Hebrew and Italian, and his kids spoke Hebrew too, except for his son who was the youngest and spoke English and Italian. So most of the meal, which consisted on tongues and chicken, was conducted in Hebrew. He also showed me some nifty Haggadot, some of which included Arabic versions of songs like Dayenu, but written in Hebrew.
Before I continue, I want to remind you that I am alone so far. I flew solo to Italy, in order to arrive before the group I was to meet, because they were flying out on Shabbat. I also had brought both my cellphones, but with no intention of using them.
Through Facebook, I arranged to meet with the group a the Trevi Fountain on Saturday at 12:30. I got there 15 minutes late, and it was packed, but I found them! They are Sarah, Caitlin, Jaime, and Carly, and we headed together back to the Colosseum, by way of some very cool graffiti artistry, and lots of National signs, which, as Sarah pointed out, are spelled Nazi Zion.
Following the canon of Sarah's Lonely Planet tour guide book, we walked through the Colosseum, and back through the this time open ruins. Of course I stood under the Arch of Titus. He's not here anymore and has no forwarding address. In addition, it appears that the arch was made by his successor, and therefore not a direct symbol of the victory in Jerusalem. We headed back to the Colosseum, where Carly had apparently made a vomit trail around the complex, due to over-exhaustion. So they headed back to their hostel, and I met them for dinner. We found a place across the street with vegetarian and gluten free options, so I got some weird tasteless dish called Orecchiette, while Sarah got Cannelloni. Mine was okay, but while we first laughed and wondered why her's said Gefullte in German, we found out because it wasn't chopped up fish inside. After that affair, we walked to the Spanish Steps, and explored the local obelisks, one of which containing a statute of Moses holding a scroll in Hebrew. Then we called it an Erev Pasqua night.
Sunday was of course Easter Sunday. In Hebrew פיסחה land Italian Pasqua, like Pesach. Sarah and I were determined to make it the Vatican in the early morning, and it was pretty sweet. People of course were everywhere, the guards looked ridiculous, and I made a Matzah note which I thought was pretty clever, except that I'm sure I made some think I was a Jew for Jesus. There was some fine hymn renditions by an American Men's choir, and then the Pope said a few words, before we took off and met the rest at the Pantheon. The Pantheon, which means temple for the gods, and not only enormous, but contains the burial spot of Raphael. It has a whole in the roof, and strategically placed holes in the floor to drain rain water.
We then walked, me with my box of Tam Tams, to Piazza Navona by way of Hadrian's Temple and some neat street performances, such as glass playing at human sculptures After the Piazza, we headed south to the Jewish Ghetto, which was closed completely. However, the Synagogue was open, so we took a tour. Mind you, there were guards around the perimeter, because in the 80's there was a terrorist attack. There were also no pictures allowed. I broke that rule. A lot. I got caught the first time in the museum area, where all these clothes were stored from hundreds of years earlier, as well as remnants from early Jewish catacombs and gravestones. This harsh woman in a red blouse warned me, so I put the camera away until we entered the main sanctuary. This chamber was enormous, including an extremely high ceiling, and quotes around the corners. Then, after that tour, I found my way back to the museum, where I found a very interesting bit about the Roman Jewish community's relationship with Israel. Once the state was established, the chief Rabbi of Rome gathered the community under the Arch of Titus, something that hadn't ever been done. However, the community had been critical at times of Israel's actions, such as during the first Lebanon War in the 80's (the subject of a massacre that took place, and was the same subject as the Oscar nominated film "Waltz with Bashir"). However, soon after the terrorist attack hit the Synagogue, and Israeli nationalism became unconditional. I was taking a picture of a neat photo of Israeli flags waving in front of the Colosseum, when this same red woman found me and was waiting to close the museum. She took me to the front desk, and had me walked out to the guards.
Now my natural reaction to a situation like this is that I start to tremble, because I don't know what's coming, even though I have a vague idea. I understand the consequences of my actions, but it doesn't mean I agree with them. Therefore, while having a mini panic attack, and without looking, I made the most of my final 60 seconds in the Synagogue gates, and popped open my camera, taking out the card with all the pictures of the Synagogue and the trip on it, slipping it in my back pocket. Then I thought, if the guard looks at the camera, he won't see any card, so he'll really have my number, so I slipped another camera card quickly into the camera, while following behind one of the museum employees on the way out. Then I thought, if the guard doesn't see any pictures on the camera, he'll know something's up, so I started taking pictures left and right without looking, all the way out the gate. The guard saw my blurry incoherent pictures, and said "thank you, bye bye."
Dinner was a whole trout and potatoes, overpriced at a tourist restaurant near the Trevi Fountain, and then I headed back to the Home in Rome one last time. I have to mention that I rushed out in the morning for the Vatican, and forgot my map, so without the group I had no form of navigation all day. Excellent. I'm writing this now on the train to Florence, wondering what's going to happen next, and whether the hostel I booked is really a hostel.
Note: Because the internet access depends on the location, things may get sloppier multimedia wise. I'll try my best
Pictures:
Rome 1
Rome 2
next stop, Firenze
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Exodus from Israel יציאת ישראל
Passover here is somewhat less that satisfactory considering the bulk of the country is observing it in full swing. You would expect that by now there would be wedding cakes made entirely out of matzah, where you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. The next best thing is Kosher restaurants and supermarkets, where you can see a squeaky clean bread isle.
Erev Passover (eve) always includes a fast for first borns in memory of Pharaoh's decree to throw first borns into the Nile. The fast is bypassed if you learn a little bit of Jewish law early in the morning. This year, though, was also a special occasion known as Birchat Hachama, or the blessing of the sun. Every 28 years, it's apparently an anniversary of the sun's creation, so it's cause for a little celebration. I woke up late, so I didn't eat much except for Dorothy Brook's famous mandelbroit, but I did go to the Western Wall. It was okay, nothing special, and I believe I missed the festivities because all the roads had been closed, according the Taxi drivers.
The Passover Seder for me was spent in a wonderful settlement called Kdumim, about 10 miles from Nablus. It was my first trip into the Shomron (West Bank) region, and the scenic views almost prevented me from falling asleep (I packed my bags for Italy before I left, and didn't sleep much). Mind you, I traveled with two very interested non-Jews, Will and Chandler, who had been in the country for a long time and were always looking for new experiences.
We arrived at the settlement, and our host, Na'ama our counselor (RA, or madricha) from the Hebrew U. program picked us up. We got a tour of the house, and a special concert by Chandler on his bagpipes. Good Morning Nablus!
The Seder itself ran about 4 hours, form a quarter to nine til about 1. It was a small group of my my counselor's family and extended family, but it was very cool experiencing an Israeli Seder with discussions and stories all in Hebrew. For example, we talked about how matzah may have been the only bread the Israelites knew how to make when they left Egypt, rather than there not being enough time for them to make normal bread.
The next morning I slept more than I had in at least a week, and we took a walk around the settlement. I got the feeling that this area probably looked a lot like the major Israeli sites in the "undisputed" territories did, about 70 years ago. There were also a few memorials for Arab attacks and shootings. It's important to note that on the entire bullet proof bus ride through the West Bank, we were never more than 20 minutes from the major cities. We drove the perimeter.
Thursday night, I packed up and got a full serving of Israeli home hospitality, as Na'ama's mom prepared a bunch of Passover snacks for me to bring on the airplane, such as carrots, apples and dried fruit, macaroons, and charoset. I was even offered a backpack that I'm taking with, because it's much bigger and easier to transport. So while Will and Chandler headed with Na'ama to Mount Gerizim to witness the ancient Passover sacrifices as done by the Samaritans , I took the only bus back to Jerusalem, to pick up my clothes and head to the airport, about 3 1/2 hours of riding in all.
So here I am, Friday morning 4am, sitting in Ben Gurion Int'l airport, about to fly to Istanbul and then Rome in time for the weekend. I lost my mind a long time ago, and feel like I'm leaving very unprepared, sort of like them Israelites. I just called the States to say hello to my family doing the second Seder. At least they have an order to their night right now (Seder means order).
Also, here is Will's side of Passover in Kedumim:
Pesach (Passover) in the West Bank
Erev Passover (eve) always includes a fast for first borns in memory of Pharaoh's decree to throw first borns into the Nile. The fast is bypassed if you learn a little bit of Jewish law early in the morning. This year, though, was also a special occasion known as Birchat Hachama, or the blessing of the sun. Every 28 years, it's apparently an anniversary of the sun's creation, so it's cause for a little celebration. I woke up late, so I didn't eat much except for Dorothy Brook's famous mandelbroit, but I did go to the Western Wall. It was okay, nothing special, and I believe I missed the festivities because all the roads had been closed, according the Taxi drivers.
The Passover Seder for me was spent in a wonderful settlement called Kdumim, about 10 miles from Nablus. It was my first trip into the Shomron (West Bank) region, and the scenic views almost prevented me from falling asleep (I packed my bags for Italy before I left, and didn't sleep much). Mind you, I traveled with two very interested non-Jews, Will and Chandler, who had been in the country for a long time and were always looking for new experiences.
We arrived at the settlement, and our host, Na'ama our counselor (RA, or madricha) from the Hebrew U. program picked us up. We got a tour of the house, and a special concert by Chandler on his bagpipes. Good Morning Nablus!
The Seder itself ran about 4 hours, form a quarter to nine til about 1. It was a small group of my my counselor's family and extended family, but it was very cool experiencing an Israeli Seder with discussions and stories all in Hebrew. For example, we talked about how matzah may have been the only bread the Israelites knew how to make when they left Egypt, rather than there not being enough time for them to make normal bread.
The next morning I slept more than I had in at least a week, and we took a walk around the settlement. I got the feeling that this area probably looked a lot like the major Israeli sites in the "undisputed" territories did, about 70 years ago. There were also a few memorials for Arab attacks and shootings. It's important to note that on the entire bullet proof bus ride through the West Bank, we were never more than 20 minutes from the major cities. We drove the perimeter.
Thursday night, I packed up and got a full serving of Israeli home hospitality, as Na'ama's mom prepared a bunch of Passover snacks for me to bring on the airplane, such as carrots, apples and dried fruit, macaroons, and charoset. I was even offered a backpack that I'm taking with, because it's much bigger and easier to transport. So while Will and Chandler headed with Na'ama to Mount Gerizim to witness the ancient Passover sacrifices as done by the Samaritans , I took the only bus back to Jerusalem, to pick up my clothes and head to the airport, about 3 1/2 hours of riding in all.
So here I am, Friday morning 4am, sitting in Ben Gurion Int'l airport, about to fly to Istanbul and then Rome in time for the weekend. I lost my mind a long time ago, and feel like I'm leaving very unprepared, sort of like them Israelites. I just called the States to say hello to my family doing the second Seder. At least they have an order to their night right now (Seder means order).
Also, here is Will's side of Passover in Kedumim:
Pesach (Passover) in the West Bank
Pesach was amazing! We got back to Jerusalem on Monday night from our Galilee hike and crashed. The next day, we turned around and met up with an American Jew named Ira to head to our Israeli friend Nama's house in Kdumim to spend Pesach (Passover) with her family. This to me was one of the most interesting trips ever. Kdumim is what we in the West call a "settlement". As the Egged bus entered the West Bank (Samaria is what the Israelis call it), I just had a strange sinking feeling. This is real. I'm finally visiting an Israeli settlement. The bus snaked in and out between the hills. Everything was segregated. Jewish town here, Arab town there.
You can tell the difference in several ways. Jewish towns are typically built on top of hills for protection, and they also have large fences or walls around them with a large listening post tower in the middle of town. The Jewish houses are usually crowded together in a very uniform way and look very nice with the trees planted in an ordered way. Arab towns are obvious from far away because of their many minarets showing you where the mosques are.
The bus route took us through a small Arab town, literally through a market street. It was really awkward, you're on this giant green Israeli bus right in the middle of a bus street full of Palestinians. No matter your political persuasion (let's say your the most left-wing anti-Zionist on earth), you feel really worried that you are a target. Everytime a boy carrying a package or a car gets too close, scenarios go flying through your head. What if we get surrounded by a mob and all lynched? Would they believe that I'm an American and not an Israeli? You are on an Israeli bus headed to Israeli settlements in the West Bank, guilty by association. But once again, the fears are more founded in Hollywood movies than reality.
The bus stopped at several settlements. One of them, Immanuel, was a small Orthodox settlement that really was extremely run down. My comment to Chandler was that if all the settlements in the West Bank were like this, then it would be easy to move them out for peace. But they aren't all like that. Kdumim was much larger, more developed, and spralled across the hilltop landscape. It would be very hard to remove this town, much less larger ones like Ari'el.
Nama's family was super nice. None of them were native English speakers, so we were in for a Hebrew immersion experience (which by the way was amazing). Nama had quite a family gathering and we were a neat extra part. The most fun person staying in her house was a 7 yr old named Amit (his father was in the hospital, deathly ill). Amit didn't speak any English and was really shy at first. An hour later, he was attached to us and constantly badgering us to come play with him, which Chandler, Ira, and I all did at various times.
We helped set up for Pesach and then got dressed for Shul at the Synagogue. This was only my third time at shul and only my fifth or so time inside a synagogue. Amit had the option of either sitting up with Nama and the girls or sitting with us. Of course, by now, he was a part of my leg, so he was not going to leave us. He sat next to me and the service started. So there I was, with very little experience with Jewish services, trying to keep up with a prayer book all in Hebrew, with the service all in Hebrew, with a 7 year old Jewish boy to my left asking me what page we are on and what's going on and how much longer. So, I did what any good Christian man would do, I guided Amit through the service as best I could. I dunno what I would've done had Ira not been on my right telling me what page we are on and where on the page! But how comical it was that here I was this Christian guy helping a Jewish kid through a Jewish service, all in a foreign language!
After Shul, we did Pesach dinner which started at 8pm and ended around 2am. There are lots of prayers, songs, and five different courses. At one point, we ate part of the roots of a fresh horse radish to remember the suffering of the Jews in slavery. I hated that stuff. It was so horrid. I could still taste it the next day.
Pesach day is like Shabbat: no lights, no cars, etc. So basically, you sit around the house and don't do much. We played סיכון (Risk) for a long time. I wandered in the kitchen from time to time. The cabinets are taped with signed that say "kosher" and "humitz". The ones with "humitz-infested" foods were not allowed to be opened.
After sunset, we could use cars again so we drove down to Shechem/Nablus to Mount Gerizim where the Samaritans do their passover. But their passover is done the old fashion way: they actually slaughter sheep! So, it's Chandler, a bunch of Israelis, and I walking on the top of this mountain through an almost deserted Samaritan village late at night and the fog is so thick that you couldn't see much farther than a block. I see this scary looking gate with a spike-topped fence. This was the slaughtering grounds. There were smoldering pits where they had put the sheep (we missed the slaughtering) in the ground cook. They were pits of mud with smoke billowing from them (not to mention the fog around us) and giant stakes stuck in the ground (which impaled the dead sheep). Further back from this were men clad in all white, stained with blood and mud, sitting around a fire singing songs in ancient Hebrew and Aramaic. The ground was stained with blood and mud everywhere.
We went up from the slaughtering grounds to the ruins of the Samaritan temple on the summit of the mountain. The massive stone gates were ominous looking especially considering they led to an endless staircase. We were literally level with the fog, so we were starting to get wet. The fog was so thick that you could hardly see and there were no lights past the gate, so only the full moon lit the area. The temple is surrounded by a security fence because it is a condemned building.
Nama found a hole in the fence and so we all snuck into the temple courtyard. It was the creepiest place I've ever been (creepier than the Red Basicila ruins in Bergama, Turkiye). I kept imaging zombies to jump out and eat me. Chandler and I climbed up a broken part of the inner wall and got on top of the inner wall trying to see into the center of the temple. It was too dark and there was too much fog. Plus we didn't have a flashlight and it was just super creepy.
We went back to the slaughtering grounds. The Samaritans were all gathering around the smoldering mud pits. Then they started to dig and began pulling out whole cooked sheep impaled on the sticks. It was crazy. There was so much smoke and fog. Everything smelled like burnt flesh mixed with mud and blood. Each Samaritan family took a sheep and ate it. We left because it was really getting to our stomachs and it was almost 1am.
I learn more from experiencing real religion than ever reading about it in a book!
Hag Samaech!
Will
You can tell the difference in several ways. Jewish towns are typically built on top of hills for protection, and they also have large fences or walls around them with a large listening post tower in the middle of town. The Jewish houses are usually crowded together in a very uniform way and look very nice with the trees planted in an ordered way. Arab towns are obvious from far away because of their many minarets showing you where the mosques are.
The bus route took us through a small Arab town, literally through a market street. It was really awkward, you're on this giant green Israeli bus right in the middle of a bus street full of Palestinians. No matter your political persuasion (let's say your the most left-wing anti-Zionist on earth), you feel really worried that you are a target. Everytime a boy carrying a package or a car gets too close, scenarios go flying through your head. What if we get surrounded by a mob and all lynched? Would they believe that I'm an American and not an Israeli? You are on an Israeli bus headed to Israeli settlements in the West Bank, guilty by association. But once again, the fears are more founded in Hollywood movies than reality.
The bus stopped at several settlements. One of them, Immanuel, was a small Orthodox settlement that really was extremely run down. My comment to Chandler was that if all the settlements in the West Bank were like this, then it would be easy to move them out for peace. But they aren't all like that. Kdumim was much larger, more developed, and spralled across the hilltop landscape. It would be very hard to remove this town, much less larger ones like Ari'el.
Nama's family was super nice. None of them were native English speakers, so we were in for a Hebrew immersion experience (which by the way was amazing). Nama had quite a family gathering and we were a neat extra part. The most fun person staying in her house was a 7 yr old named Amit (his father was in the hospital, deathly ill). Amit didn't speak any English and was really shy at first. An hour later, he was attached to us and constantly badgering us to come play with him, which Chandler, Ira, and I all did at various times.
We helped set up for Pesach and then got dressed for Shul at the Synagogue. This was only my third time at shul and only my fifth or so time inside a synagogue. Amit had the option of either sitting up with Nama and the girls or sitting with us. Of course, by now, he was a part of my leg, so he was not going to leave us. He sat next to me and the service started. So there I was, with very little experience with Jewish services, trying to keep up with a prayer book all in Hebrew, with the service all in Hebrew, with a 7 year old Jewish boy to my left asking me what page we are on and what's going on and how much longer. So, I did what any good Christian man would do, I guided Amit through the service as best I could. I dunno what I would've done had Ira not been on my right telling me what page we are on and where on the page! But how comical it was that here I was this Christian guy helping a Jewish kid through a Jewish service, all in a foreign language!
After Shul, we did Pesach dinner which started at 8pm and ended around 2am. There are lots of prayers, songs, and five different courses. At one point, we ate part of the roots of a fresh horse radish to remember the suffering of the Jews in slavery. I hated that stuff. It was so horrid. I could still taste it the next day.
Pesach day is like Shabbat: no lights, no cars, etc. So basically, you sit around the house and don't do much. We played סיכון (Risk) for a long time. I wandered in the kitchen from time to time. The cabinets are taped with signed that say "kosher" and "humitz". The ones with "humitz-infested" foods were not allowed to be opened.
After sunset, we could use cars again so we drove down to Shechem/Nablus to Mount Gerizim where the Samaritans do their passover. But their passover is done the old fashion way: they actually slaughter sheep! So, it's Chandler, a bunch of Israelis, and I walking on the top of this mountain through an almost deserted Samaritan village late at night and the fog is so thick that you couldn't see much farther than a block. I see this scary looking gate with a spike-topped fence. This was the slaughtering grounds. There were smoldering pits where they had put the sheep (we missed the slaughtering) in the ground cook. They were pits of mud with smoke billowing from them (not to mention the fog around us) and giant stakes stuck in the ground (which impaled the dead sheep). Further back from this were men clad in all white, stained with blood and mud, sitting around a fire singing songs in ancient Hebrew and Aramaic. The ground was stained with blood and mud everywhere.
We went up from the slaughtering grounds to the ruins of the Samaritan temple on the summit of the mountain. The massive stone gates were ominous looking especially considering they led to an endless staircase. We were literally level with the fog, so we were starting to get wet. The fog was so thick that you could hardly see and there were no lights past the gate, so only the full moon lit the area. The temple is surrounded by a security fence because it is a condemned building.
Nama found a hole in the fence and so we all snuck into the temple courtyard. It was the creepiest place I've ever been (creepier than the Red Basicila ruins in Bergama, Turkiye). I kept imaging zombies to jump out and eat me. Chandler and I climbed up a broken part of the inner wall and got on top of the inner wall trying to see into the center of the temple. It was too dark and there was too much fog. Plus we didn't have a flashlight and it was just super creepy.
We went back to the slaughtering grounds. The Samaritans were all gathering around the smoldering mud pits. Then they started to dig and began pulling out whole cooked sheep impaled on the sticks. It was crazy. There was so much smoke and fog. Everything smelled like burnt flesh mixed with mud and blood. Each Samaritan family took a sheep and ate it. We left because it was really getting to our stomachs and it was almost 1am.
I learn more from experiencing real religion than ever reading about it in a book!
Hag Samaech!
Will
Chandler and Amit
The Slaughtering Grounds
I'll let you imagine what happens here (btw - , yes, the blood flows in the trough)...
tastes like chicken (so they say)
Red - "chmutiz" infested
Black - "kosher"
Black - "kosher"
The amazing scenery of the West Bank/Samaria
Yeah... don't ask...
Monday, April 6, 2009
Yam liYam 4th Day: Here Comes the Sun and Closure at the Kinneret
The natural alarm clock could not be turned off. Birds screaming from every direction, and rain that wasn't wet or cold woke me up. Yeah, they were seeds, and I had slept outside, but it was still really warm and picaresque . I do believe it was the most beautiful place I have ever been to.
The last day was probably the hardest to capture with a camera , and I don't think I succeeded in doing so. The majestic mountains and pillars on our hike were so rich in color and shape, I wanted to climb in each and every cave. We talked about the Carob tree and the equal weight of every seed, leading to the Karate we use in gold measurement. We hiked for a few hours on the same Amud River, in some particularly high and poisonous brush, and finished off at the Kinneret, in the same place where I finished in 11th grade. So how was it different this time? First, we waited for and met three guys from the program who did the real Yam el Yam, the tents and everything that comes with it, and there was a BBQ! On the way back, we passed a site where Israel's National Water Carrier Sapir Site pumps the Kineret water up to sea level (200 meters) for the rest of the country. It's so strategically built that it could survive a nuclear explosion.
All in all, this trip I took more than 643 pictures, and again, I remind you, they look dull compared to the real thing. I also remind you that I wrote the posts for this entire trip a day after the fact, and after a day where I turned my entire life around. I changed my plane ticket from Greece to Italy, and I changed my site for the Passover Seder from the German Colony in Jerusalem to Kidumim, a Jewish Settlement in the very heart of the West Bank, around 10 miles from Nablus! I therefore invite you to read all the posts from Yam el Yam.
The last day was probably the hardest to capture with a camera , and I don't think I succeeded in doing so. The majestic mountains and pillars on our hike were so rich in color and shape, I wanted to climb in each and every cave. We talked about the Carob tree and the equal weight of every seed, leading to the Karate we use in gold measurement. We hiked for a few hours on the same Amud River, in some particularly high and poisonous brush, and finished off at the Kinneret, in the same place where I finished in 11th grade. So how was it different this time? First, we waited for and met three guys from the program who did the real Yam el Yam, the tents and everything that comes with it, and there was a BBQ! On the way back, we passed a site where Israel's National Water Carrier Sapir Site pumps the Kineret water up to sea level (200 meters) for the rest of the country. It's so strategically built that it could survive a nuclear explosion.
All in all, this trip I took more than 643 pictures, and again, I remind you, they look dull compared to the real thing. I also remind you that I wrote the posts for this entire trip a day after the fact, and after a day where I turned my entire life around. I changed my plane ticket from Greece to Italy, and I changed my site for the Passover Seder from the German Colony in Jerusalem to Kidumim, a Jewish Settlement in the very heart of the West Bank, around 10 miles from Nablus! I therefore invite you to read all the posts from Yam el Yam.
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