“Ah, I can see you are still in shock. Take your time, when you’re ready we’ll have coffee.”

Our AirBNB host had correctly read our confused faces. How was it possible to fit so many pieces of art on the walls? Did he buy the 15 sets of mugs at the same flea market, or over a period of many years? The apartment — a century-old Arab house with modern appliances and plumbing — would be our home for the night in the city of Acre, in northern Israel. We had arrived moments earlier after a bus and two trains from Jerusalem.  Our host, a friendly man with a face tattoo, is an artist and has been living in this house for over a decade. As he told us poetically over our coffees later that morning, “I love to find new life in old and forgotten objects. I love to make old things new again.” He uses broken and discarded tiles to create mosiacs on tables and wall-hangings. Beyond this, I noticed many other creative projects in the apartment. For example, a dinner plate as a portal window in the bathroom door.

The apartment was a five minute walk from the Old City of Acre, a port city dating back thousands of years. As one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the region, it has a rich history which we enjoyed learning about as we ambled around the old market and toured the mosque and town hamam. It has seen British rulers, Egyptian kings, Ottoman rulers come and go, with subsequent modern day ethnic diversity. Some of the streets were slightly dirty, causing pedestrians to hop single file over the puddles – even though it had not rained for weeks. One highlight of our walk was the templar’s tunnel, an underground passageway used by knights during the Crusade era to access the port from the city palace. This tunnel, surprisingly, was not discovered until 1994, and opened to the public in 1999.

We were lucky enough to come to Acre during its fringe theater festival, and as a result were treated to some interesting street performances including a skeleton dancing to reggaeton (!) and a couple standing and embracing in an elastic cube with a few holes cut out for spectators. There were also dozens of street vendors hawking their wares, with shouts of “crepe, crepe, creeeeepe!” and “kanafe kanafe kanafeeeeeee!” adding to the festive atmosphere.

The next morning we woke up in the eclectic apartment and packed our bags to head farther up the coast. Despite our initial impressions of sheer randomness, after one day in the apartment it started to make more sense. Similar to the old city next door, this apartment had been continuously-inhabited for many years, with each tenant adding his or her own personal flair. It fit the neighborhood perfectly, and our artist host, who was now a friend, had chosen the perfect place to live to make old things new again. Acre, despite it’s old age and somewhat run down alleyways, was a beautiful place.

I wanted to include some photos of our neighborhood. I enjoy walking around it, getting lost in the alleyways. Sometimes I almost walk into someone’s apartment – the distinction between an alley and a front entryway is very small. There are friendly stray cats, and a few small neighborhood gardens.

Storefront in Nachlaot

Street signs in Hebrew, English and Arabic

Another sign

Archway to another alley – can you imagine trying to give directions around here?

One of the alleys in our neighborhood, usually with smells of cooked food, a few stray cats, and sounds of Hebrew in the background

A street in Nachlaot

At the wine tasting event the night before, one of the guests had beautiful earrings. When I asked her about them, she said they were from this outdoor market that happens every Friday in Jerusalem. Lo and behold, the market was right next to our house! The next morning I woke up and explored the Bezalel market (after almost an hour at the post office), and was pleasantly surprised. There were many vendors, none of them too pushy, and a large variety of handmade items.

Small beaded animals

Ceramic flowers

Necklaces for sale at the market

I wandered the market and talked to a few vendors. It seemed that overall everything was made by hand. If I were an artist, this would be a nice place to spend the day – it was breezy with plenty of shade and foot traffic.

Tal (roommate Tal) invited us to her friend’s vineyard for a wine tasting event. They were celebrating the end of the harvest, and opening up some bottles. There would be some live music and “fun surprises” for food. Hunter and I were IN.

On our way to the bus stop, Jerusalemites protect themselves against the dusty weather

We took a small bus for part of the trip before getting picked up by Tal’s friend Alon for the remainder of the trip. Alon and Tal met during their year of service before joining the Army, a year that she mentioned was very special to her, and a year that gave her several of her closest friends.

The Adulam Winery & Vineyard is located in Givat Yeshayahu, about 45 minutes southwest of Jerusalem. The dust storm was making the views less than spectacular, but we were told that it is normally “gorgeous.” Tal said we would come back on a clear day and enjoy the scenery. The vineyard is run by Tal’s friend Ashley and her husband, and for the party they were offering their three red wines: a Cabernet Sauvignon, a Merlot and a blend that was my personal favorite. They have a trip advisor page, and I have a feeling that Hunter and I will be back to visit on a sunnier and clearer day.

The wine tasting event

The evening was cool and breezy, a welcome respite from the hot and dusty weather in Jerusalem since I arrived. The other guests at the party were very nice and lacked the level of intensity that we found so off putting with other people we had met. We both agreed that it felt like we were in Northern California, and despite the fact that everyone at the party was a stranger, it like we were surrounded by friends.

The “fun surprises” for food – mostly dips, breads and other Israeli offerings. All were delicious.

I arrived to meet Hunter and Tal for a coffee after leaving the post office. I ordered a Mint Lemonade and was treated to the most delicious thing in the world. It was equal parts refreshing and sweet. I could have drank a gallon of the stuff!

Tal (yes, another Tal) was born in Israel, with a father who is South African and a mother who is a New Zealander. As a result Tal has a funny combination of accents – a mix of pretty much all of the Anglo accents. Tal was nice, talkative and easy to open up to. As an Israeli who has spent parts of her life outside of Israel, she was no stranger to its idiosyncrasies and the frustrations of daily life. She said that every time she returns from the US, New Zealand or England, she is always taken aback by the lack of social protocol found here in Israel. Hunter and I had to laugh along with her – we had certainly found the same thing to be true.

At the market, old women will roll over your foot with their heavy cart in order to squeeze past you and grab a tomato. People of all ages will just take almonds, candies and occasional grapes out of the containers at the stores, sampling the goods before they decide to buy. At the bus stop there is no unwritten “you were here first,” and everyone waddles on the bus in a small herd, causing stubbed toes and crushed purses. The sidewalks are never wide enough, even if you are on a ten foot wide path. Someone will walk really close to you, or simply not avoid you – forcing you to change course because this person didn’t. These problems are exacerbated once you’re in a car – the traffic lanes are suggestions, and cutting someone off is not considered aggressive, it’s merely an element of being on the road. Why is this? Why do Israelis act so defiantly with their own interests in mind, ignoring the greater good and comfort of the strangers around them? I’d be interested to hear your thoughts. This element of the lifestyle is a reminder that although Israel is a first world nation, with a strong economy and modern lifestyle, we are certainly in the middle east. The rules of decorum and civility back home don’t apply here, or rather they are watered down into something completely different.

Slowly, but certainly surely, I have started to adjust to this change in attitude. At the market the other day I demanded a half scoop of olives, not the full scoop that the vendor originally handed me. “I can’t give you less,” he said, not too friendly. “I want half, is that not possible?” I asked, not backing down. He shrugged, “I need to give you a bag, not this container.” He acquiesced, I had won! I didn’t care that the olives were now sold to me in a ziplock instead of a thin plastic tupperware. I had followed the Israeli code of conduct – if a rule is unwritten, it doesn’t exist. Don’t ask for permission, demand it.

Well I suppose some things are universal – the post office just doesn’t work well. I have found this to be true in every major city I have lived. Here in Jerusalem, I was to learn, the case was no different. Surly Israelis behind every counter, an incomprehensible overhead speaker system and of course, as is true in many waiting rooms these days, an intricate and over-engineered numbering system. I pulled A008 when I walked in. Naturally my first thought was “wow, I’m only 8th in line!” Not so. The screens had a variety of numbers, all either A, B, or C groupings. The number on the screen when I sat down was A982. So I had a ways to go.

Ten minutes later, it was A989.

Ten minutes after that, it was still A989. Who the hell knows what Mr. A989 was up to. He was tapping his foot, and the agent behind the desk was nowhere to be seen. My mind started to wander … the whole point of this A, B, and C grouping was so Israelis could be served more efficiently. When you enter the post office, you specify your purpose: A was for mailing packages, buying stamps and other merchandise. B was for money orders (both receiving and sent). C was for legal matters, like notarizing papers, and perhaps other things as well – C was a busy counter and people, for unknown reasons, came in bursts instead of one at a time. Perhaps the most puzzling part of this, was that the A, B, and C counters would change all the time. So if you went to buy stamps (group A), and when you were finished the clerk hit the “next” button, the overhead would announce an A, B or C ticket holder to come to the same clerk. Surely, the efficiency of an A/B/C system would be improved if the clerk then only had to know the answers to 1/3 of the questions? As it stood that day in the office, the clerks were all over the place, and as a result had to leave their desk to fetch things from the other side of the office.

Now another 10 minutes had passed, and Mr. A989 had finally left the building. Little Ms. A990 was now taking care of business. I still had a long way to go before A008 was called, and who knows how long I had to wait. 30 minutes in and I was nowhere closer to buying my stamp. I had to leave to meet Hunter and a friend, so I silently vowed to return the next day and buy my damned stamp.

The next day, I arrived and waited 55 minutes before my number was called -A046 this time. Today it was the same song and dance of A/B/Cs, with the C group coming in small bursts from time to time. Maybe once I can speak Hebrew I’ll solve that little mystery!

I approached the desk and asked for my stamp, along with a few others so I wouldn’t need to spend an hour of my day at the post office whenever I needed to mail a letter. The clerk handed me my stamp, and then, just because, critiqued my method of applying the stamp on the letter.

“No, that’s not right,” he said.

“Oh, does it go somewhere else?” I asked. I had affixed the stamp to the upper right corner of the letter. Maybe in Israel it was the upper left?

“No, it’s wrong. Give.”

I handed over my letter and partially affixed stamp. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I simply hadn’t put ALL of my body weight into the stamp repeatedly, as I saw the clerk doing in front of me. He handed the letter back to me.

“Can you mail it now?” I asked. Maybe I missed something – but usually after stamping a letter AT the post office AT a desk it was the clerk’s time to shine.

He took my letter back somewhat awkwardly and dropped it in an unmarked burlap sack. A047 was already edging me out of the way.

Today I attempted to get my cell phone in working order. It would make exploring the city SO much easier once my smartphone was up and running. The weather was still incredibly dusty, so we slept in and had a lazy morning at home before braving the dust to do this errand. Hunter informed me that the cell phone “guys” are in a traditionally orthodox neighborhood, so despite the 95 degree heat I got dressed in a long skirt, cardigan and scarf. As with every errand in a foreign country, it takes several attempts to get anything done at all. So, I’ll break my sequential narrative here and highlight my cell phone store experiences in this one post:

Trip #1 on 9/9: This store was a cultural experience to say the least. There was a pudgy young woman at the counter who said maybe three words in the 30 minutes we were in the 5’ x 5’ store. There was also a tall and pudgy man who was the “people person” and dealt with everyone that walked in the store. Even though there was a third employee, Mike, it was clear that Mike did not greet the customers or help them directly. Mike & the girl got their running orders from Tall Boss Man. This wouldn’t have been an problem but Tall Boss Man didn’t seem to know how to do anything himself, and the answer to every question was “um, Mike?” Even though it was my cell phone that we were discussing, Tall Boss Man only spoke to Hunter the entire time.

Trip #2 on 9/10: This time I went without Hunter. Tall Boss Man was forced to speak to me directly, and I gave him permission to unlock my AT&T SIM card so that, once that happened, I could come back and purchase and Israeli SIM card. It was the same song and dance, the girl was silent and picked at her nails, Tall Boss Man (TBM) assured me that unlocking a cell phone doesn’t take long, maybe two days at the absolute most. But, (with a sly little shrug which didn’t exactly show that he was sorry for the inconvenience) they would be closed the following two days, open for one day and then closed again for two days for the Rosh Hashanah holiday. TBM suggested I return after the holiday. Silent girl smiled and Mike stared at his phone.

Sneak photo of my fellow cell phone store customers

Trip #3 on 9/16: Nearly one week later I return to the store, and the same cast of characters greets me. Unlike my previous trips, I am no longer the only customer in the store. There are also 3-4 elderly orthodox jewish men who shuffle aside when I enter and stare straight ahead. I hadn’t dressed in a long skirt today simply because I didn’t see the point of continuing to make myself uncomfortable, and I learned that although the store was quite close to the border of the orthodox jewish neighborhood, it was sort of in a “No Man’s Land,” so I took advantage of the lack of strict rule and wore shorts. TBM informs me that it shouldn’t take too much longer, but, you know, the holidays … Mike tells TBM who then tells me that in addition to the normal slow speed of these things, the AT&T man informed Mike that my phone was a particularly lengthy process. At this point I really just wanted it resolved, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen today. My best option was to buy an Israeli SIM card today, and then put it in my phone in the next few days. Mike, TBM and even silent girl assured me that it would be three days at the most.

Trip #4 on 9/20: Three days later I tried to fit the Israeli SIM card into my phone and it didn’t fit. The store was, not surprisingly, closed for Shabbat so I returned the next day.

This time, breaking through the fourth wall, Mike spoke to me directly. In perfect english! He had had an issue with the man at AT&T, and as a result it would take an extra three business days. The term “business days” was strictly American.

“So AT&T is honoring American business days AND Israeli holidays? That’s ridiculous” I asked, not too pleased.

“No, just American business days. It will work again in three days,” Mike said.

I didn’t trust Mike but I (still) had no other options. They cut down the SIM card to fit my phone, a move I have never seen before.

Three days later: I put the SIM card in the phone and miracles of miracles, it works. I can now explore the city with Siri by my side. 

Lunch in Baka

When Hunter first moved to Jerusalem he lived in an apartment a few minutes walk away from the neighborhood of Bak’a/Baka/Baq’a. Baka is south and slightly downhill from the old city – a solid 30 minute walk. Baka became popular in the 1920s after Jerusalem’s first railroad station was built. Wealthy families built large homes in this neighborhood, conveniently located close to the new commercial hub of the city. First station, which is no longer accepting trains, is the northern marker of the Baka neighborhood, with a central business district of bookstores, coffeeshops and a movie theater heading along Emek Refa’im [street].

Wild pomegranate trees

Wild lemon tree

There are many cute cafes in this neighborhood, but for me the selling point was the calm and serene nature of the streets. Coming from Nachlaot, I can only compare it to how I feel when I leave Brooklyn and arrive at my aunt and uncle’s house in New Rochelle. Nachlaot is busy, dirty and crowded, while Baka has tree lined streets and private houses with gardens. There are apartment buildings as well, and small interconnecting streets similar to alleys but far more charming, a great way to peak into the gardens of fancy private homes. Hunter and I walked around the neighborhood and explored after a delicious lunch at one of the aforementioned cafes. We agreed that if the opportunity arose, we would love to live here.

Hunter pointed out a running path that he used when he lived in this neighborhood. The running path leaves from first station and heads south, exactly over the course of the former train tracks. The trail itself runs between the train rails, similar to the high line walkway in New York. First station is a social center complete with a children’s play area, cafes and restaurants. Sometimes there are concerts at night, which we will check out sooner or later.

That dusty dusty moon

Free books at the railroad running path

This place was packed! And of course, being the religiously ignorant people that we are, we had no idea why. After some research afterward, we learned that is the site where Jesus was both crucified and also buried. More information here: http://churchoftheholysepulchre.net/

It is also, we discovered, a popular pilgrimage destination for Christians. It certainly felt that way. There were groups everywhere, and poor group leaders trying to corral their followers while also allowing them to explore. It seems that in Israel, similar to what I have observed in Europe and South America, group leaders adopt the policy of holding an object very high in the air so that even the shortest tourists can find the leader at all times. It found this amusing, considering that these tourists have probably traveled a very long way, and paid a lot of money to stand in this building. Was it then also necessary to hold a yellow umbrella ten feet in the air? Maybe, I don’t know, just keep it down while you’re in the church? All of the groups had personal headphones and could hear the tour guide through this interface, removing the need for everyone to be within a three foot radius. It was interesting to see the majority of the visitors acting really excited when they were entering the tomb, and honoring the crucifixion site. In a day and age where practicing religion is on a downward trend worldwide, it’s nice to see people with a little passion [of the christ] (sorry, couldn’t help myself).

After the church we were worn out, the old city can be quite exhausting as it is but the heat and dust added another layer of fatigue. We got lost (again) and after finding our way out took a bus to Baka for lunch.

Photo credits:

“Altar of the Crucifixion l” by Glogger – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Altar_of_the_Crucifixion_l.jpg#/media/File:Altar_of_the_Crucifixion_l.jpg

“The Church of the Holy Sepulchre-Jerusalem” by http://www.flickr.com/photos/jlascar/ – http://www.flickr.com/photos/jlascar/10350972756/in/set-72157636698118263/. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Church_of_the_Holy_Sepulchre-Jerusalem.JPG#/media/File:The_Church_of_the_Holy_Sepulchre-Jerusalem.JPG

Dust storm views from the Temple Mount

Tuesday morning we woke up and found that our entire apartment had been covered in a thick layer of dust. Disoriented and still sleepy we stumbled into the living room where Tal announced “it’s from Syria.” Hunter and I decided that despite the dust we would attempt to see the old city again, and visit the Al Aqsa mosque during visiting hours. Walking through the old city we asked directions to the mosque again, this time to a different pair of Israeli soldiers who, thankfully, pointed us in the right direction without asking us questions about our personal lives. They did share that I needed to be covered from my ankles to my wrists, which was fine with us as I had left the house in long pants, and then would put a sweater on over my dress when we arrived at the mosque. In addition I had a scarf with which to cover my head, as the soldiers the day before told us that it was necessary.

We filed into the line for the security checkpoint, and were able to go through with just Hunter’s copy of his passport. We were concerned that I would also need a passport but apparently this is not the case. This security guard/soldier asked us if we were Jewish. “She is, but I’m not,” Hunter answered.

“Ok,” the soldier said, “no praying. Don’t go in the mosque”

“Thank you” I said, none of this information was new to me, as it had been written on at least three signs in line, and beyond that it was very well known information to visitors of this site. Due to recent warring between Palestine and Israel, one of the elements of the peace negotiations was to no longer allow Jewish visitors the opportunity to pray at the temple mount. Don’t worry, if this sounds confusing you’re not alone – this is one of the most contested religious sites in the world. The temple mount, as jews call this site, is the holiest site in Judaism, as it stands on the site of the first temple of the Hebrews. In addition, per wikipedia, it is believed that this is where God gathered dust in order to create Adam. For Sunni Muslims, this is the third holiest site in Islam, as it is believed to be the place where Mohammed ascended to heaven. After the second intifadah, the law stands that Jewish people are not allowed to pray on this site. In addition visiting times are restricted to only a few hours a day, and they are not allowed to enter the Mosque. For this last rule, it applies to all non-muslims, not just Jews. In addition, as we were about to learn, there are some questionable rules for the way that women are required to dress. We also learned that there is a strict ‘no touching’ rule between men and women.

Upon entering the site, I was covered from my ankles to my wrists, with a scarf around my neck for additional modesty. A man pointed me in a direction other than the majority of the other visitors, towards a guy with long fabric that he wanted us to tie around our waist. I thought I had heard him say it was one shekel, but in fact it was 20 shekels. I was outraged by this cost, because I had followed all of the rules as they had been explained to me. Another woman in our group, who was very modestly dress, and who, unlike me, appeared to dress like this every day, said “that is ridiculous, I will not pay you” and walked away with her family. I followed her lead and handed the scarf back to the man, and walked away. Unlike her, I wandered into the site, instead of being led out of the site by the man and his friends. This was a pretty sad attempt at profiting off of a holy site, and it angered both me and that woman.

The site was absolutely beautiful, but due to the heat and the dust we were ready to head out of the site within 30 minutes. We then decided that we should leave the Old City and go get some lunch, but the city being the way it is, we were unable to find our way out and instead of finding one of the exits we ended up at the Site of the Holy Sepulchre, one of the holiest sites in Christianity.