Midwest To Mideast

Hunter planned a fun night out on Monday night, to help welcome me to the city. We had drinks at a hip bar/restaurant called Machneyuda, which is one of the most popular spots in the city. The cocktails, which we enjoyed al fresca, were absolutely delicious. In a cute move, each cocktail was named for a dictator, and I can strongly recommend the Kim Jong Il. The drink, like it’s namesake, was strong, pint-sized, and left a lasting impression. Sitting at a cute table on the sidewalk, tea light candles and the sounds of distant trucks and ambient pedestrian noises, it felt like we were in New York City. The constant english sound bites reaching our ears helped drive the point home. The joy of being together again, discussing normal things over a non-cellular connection was pure bliss.

After our drink we went down the street to a Kurdish restaurant named Ima (translation: Mom). The ambiance was upscale cozy, and the waitress presented us with english menus (phew) and helped us order a fantastic meal. This is when I was introduced for the first time to a Kuba. A delicious addition to my list of favorite foods, Kuba is a kurdish staple. It is a bread stuffed with spiced beef, or just vegetables, and then deep fried. In a word – YUM.

Twenty minutes of walking brought us to the Old City gates. We walked in the “New Gate,” and strolled through the Christian quarter. Wait, is that a kippah for sale? Yeah, and that’s a store of Jewish paraphernalia. I guess we’re in the Jewish quarter. But — hey — that’s a store of crosses! I supposed we actually are in the Christian quart —well look at that. Signs saying “Visit Palestine” and posters with Arabic writing. Is this the Muslim quarter?

“Hunter, should I put my scarf on?” I had dressed for the weather in a tank top, and didn’t want to be disrespectful.

“Let me ask this guy” Hunter responded, equally confused by the intermixed shops. He approached a man on a pile of small rugs, and spoke to him in (broken) Arabic.

The man smiled and said “Jewish, Christian, Muslim, it is all the same.”

Quite profound considering we were walking within the city walls that contained some of the holiest relics of three major world religions. Also very surprising due to the constant stories of conflict and animosity between these religions and their followers.

We continued walking, perused the shops, drank fresh pomegranate juice and happened upon the entrance to the Al Aqsa Mosque. Here, two Israeli soldiers ate sandwiches leaning against the wall. We were told that at this time it is for Muslims only. The soldiers informed us that the Mosque would be open tomorrow from 7 – 11 am, and from 1:30 – 2:30 pm. He noted that we needed to dress conservatively, and I needed to cover my legs and arms from my ankles to my wrists. In addition I would need a scarf around my head. He also asked us why we are in Israel, and we carried on a pleasant, although slightly strained conversation. He asked our religions, and then, perhaps going beyond sheer pleasantries, asked what the policy is for Protestants – do the children take the religion of the father or the mother. Hunter responded they become the religion of the father.

“So if the children are to be the religion of the mother, and the religion of the father, what will they be?” The soldier, still a complete stranger, asked.

At this point I was ready for the conversation to be over. Not even 24 hours into my stay in Israel and shit was getting real.

“Haha…yeah, so we’ll have to figure that out,” Hunter politely deferred the topic, “thanks for your help.”

We walked away pondering his question and the quick escalation of the conversation. We would see the mosque the next day. After a few more turns through the remarkable city streets, we walked out of the Damascus gate, and into east Jerusalem. We found some Shwarma and cold water and enjoyed a delicious meal. A very full and exciting first day … I was ready for a nap!

Shwarma lunch

Yummy!

First morning in Israel

Satisfying meal … note the fresh figs

I slept like a drunk college student – soundly, and for many hours. I would say I slept like a baby, but as I learned first hand in Ann Arbor, this phrase is very misleading. Upon waking up, Hunter prepared us a delicious breakfast and we planned our day together. I wanted to explore our surroundings, and it was a perfect day to do so. The weather was hot and sunny with clear skies and a slight breeze – making it impossible to stay indoors.

Jaffa Street – the main commercial district, and route of the #1 train line

Our apartment is located on Nisim Bachar, a street in the neighborhood of Nachlaot near downtown Jerusalem. Nachlaot is one of the central neighborhoods in modern Jerusalem, within walking distance to the old city and on several major bus lines as well as the #1 train line. Nachlaot was one of the areas established for residence outside of the Old City in the mid 1800s, back when the old city was becoming too unsanitary and crowded. Nachlaot is characterized by many small streets, some only the width of a staircase, which wind throughout the neighborhood creating small inner courtyards and crossroads between the “main” streets – which themselves are only wide enough for one car at a time with “Israeli” parking (aka half on the street, half on the sidewalk).

The Shuk

In today’s time, Nachlaot is a hip and popular living spot – similar to the East Village or Williamsburg in NYC. Historically, Nachlaot had the highest concentration of synagogues in the entire city, and today the religious presence is felt, although the old school jews seem to be a diminishing minority. The crowds moving into the ramshackle apartments are a different sort of Jew. Still religious and observant of religious rituals, but with a hippy vibe similar to individuals found in the Bay Area.

Shuk: Man responsible for this bread insanity

Shuk: Bread, bread, bread

Shuk: Figgy figgy fig

Nisim Bachar is a 5 minute walk from “the Shuk,” a popular spot for both locals and tourists alike. The shuk is an indoor/outdoor market selling fruits, vegetables, fish, nuts, olives, pastries, pasta and tahini 101 different ways. It’s loud, crowded and spectacular. Hunter informs me that this is where we will be buying most of our groceries. Challenge accepted.

After ambling around our neighborhood and the shuk, we head to Jaffa street. Jaffa street is closed off to cars because it has the only train line in the city – a tram called the #1 line. For under 2 USD the tram takes you from west to east within the city of Jerusalem. Rumor has it that #1 won’t be alone for too long – a #2 is planned for the “near” future. Sounds to me like the 2nd avenue subway line, but maybe I’m just cynical. Instead of taking the tram we walked the length of Jaffa street to the old city walls, finding many clothing and shoe stores along with way. Also, a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (note to self), and a store called “Holy Bagel” which made me laugh – I’ll always be impressed by a good pun, even more when written in English outside of the U.S. I will always be impressed, as well, by a delicious bagel. See you soon Holy Bagel.

My new housemate Tal, along with Hunter, gave us a ride back to our apartment in Jerusalem from the airport. Tal had just finished her workday at El Al’s customer service department, where she fields phone calls and addresses customer’s complaints. She greeted me and helped me & Hunter throw my huge bags into the car, and then presented some cookies and fruit she had brought from the office. This girl, I thought, is someone I am going to like.

Driving to our apartment through the Israeli countryside, Tal opted to take an alternative route. She said that Route 1 is the most common way to get between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, but considering she makes the commute very often, she opted instead to take the 443, a slightly longer route that has less traffic. “Hmm” I thought, wondering what the importance of this announcement was.

Entering Jerusalem

“You see that?” Tal pointed to our left at what looked like a military compound. She explained that it was one of many checkpoints to enter Palestine, and the 443 actually runs on the edge of Palestine/outskirts of Israel as it winds through the countryside. On either side of the road the hillsides were dotted with small towns, each building contributing a shade of khaki to the already sandy landscape. Tal stated that you can always tell the Arabic villages from the Israeli villages “because they look so different.” These differences were lost on me, the nuanced aesthetics of arabic vs. Israeli buildings is still a foreign concept. Hunter pointed out that the arabic buildings each had a water tower on the roof. He explained, tactfully, that Israelis use water as a means to maintain authority over the Palestinians, particularly during contentious periods in recent history.

After another 20 minutes, we arrived at the outskirts of Jerusalem. The city unrolled before us, again with row after row of sandstone buildings, but this time there were also large traffic lights, highways, billboards, movie theaters, government buildings and parks to admire. Before I know it Tal is somewhat miraculously parallel parking on a tiny street. We are home.

The apartment is as I pictured from the video Hunter sent to me. It reminds me immediately of the apartment I lived in with my friends in Argentina. It’s a little dirty, randomly decorated, and there aren’t two dishes remaining from the same set. It’s comfortable, inviting and very homey immediately. Hunter bought me a small welcoming gift of fancy pasta, along with a very adorable homemade card. I think all of this time Hunter is the one with the calligraphy skills!

Welcome Home!

Hunter has a hidden talent

I showered and washed away the Russian airline, along with it my stress of arriving to Israel and meeting up with Hunter. I couldn’t believe I had actually made it – the next phase of our life could finally begin. In the other room Tal prepared some curry and we ate our first meal together as housemates.

So much baggage. Literally, not emotionally.

I had found a great deal. Really. Flying round trip from Tel Aviv to NYC for just over $700 was a steal, and knowing this I was wary to expect much from the airline. I figured it would be an uncomfortable seat, maybe some bad food, and perhaps even surly flight attendants. When I arrived at JFK after saying my final good byes to the Florences, I ambled into the terminal carrying my body weight’s worth of luggage.

I went through the song and dance of checking my baggage, giving a confused face when the woman told me the bag was overweight (despite my grasp of this fact well before arriving at the counter). She presented two options to me for my overweight baggage. I could either add a third bag for a cost of $150 dollars (!!), or I could keep the baggage the way it is for a fee of $225 (!!!!). I broke out a chalkboard, did some quick calculations and found that $150 is less than $225, and now I needed to figure out a way to repack this luggage. This lovely staff member also informed me that there is a weight restriction on my carry-on of about 15 pounds, and I am only allowed one bag – not the customary two bag policy similar to every other airline in the freaking world. She said there was an area with a scale that I can use to repack my luggage, luckily I had packed one of my backpacks that is really large, which allowed me to not completely panic. The “area” was actually just a few feet to the right, smack dab in front of the 50 odd people in line, who before my dilemma were left with nothing to do other than stare at the ceiling. Hey guys! Free show over here!

The process of assessing which items in your suitcase are the heaviest, and then removing them from a meticulously packed bag (shout out to Lori Nathan), reinserting them in a backpack, and weighing both bags until the magic balance is found is, not surprisingly, difficult. I think a few of my readers have been in a similar situation at the airport. I felt like I was on some strange version of The Price is Right, except instead of assessing a cost I needed to determine a weight until the magic sum is reached. I scrambled around sweating and cursing and avoiding all of the eyes in my direction from the sensible lightly packed passengers in line. After a little over half an hour I had reached my weight goal, and went back to the check-in counter. Instead of confetti or an announcement that I had advanced to the showcase showdown, I was rewarded with my boarding pass and the fact that my flight was 2.5 hours delayed.

JFK isn’t a horrible place to kill time, and I made my final phone calls on US soil, ate some mediocre pizza and daydreamed. I felt ready to leave.

Breakfast on board

In flight magazine

Dinner on board

The seats were very small, even for my 5’6″ frame there was hardly any leg room. One small note – the airline referred to our ticket class as “Economy/Tourist” which I found a little funny. Come tour our plane! Take photos! But be careful – as you explore the cabin you will probably step on one of the densely packed passengers. The flight was delayed even more before we took off, pretty much ensuring that I would miss my connection in Moscow. Knowing there was little I could do to speed up the plane, I relaxed and explored the entertainment system. Five seconds later I realized that the “system” was just a 3″ x 5″ blue screen with a map of the world and the plane’s relative position within the world. No movies, music or TV for the 9 hour flight. I settled in and tried to sleep instead, but was woken up an hour in by a strange feeling for me – I was hot! I am never hot, and am frequently made fun of for bringing a sweater out on a summer day with temperature in the 80s. The plane was sweltering, and everyone I could see was fanning themselves and trying as hard as possible to be comfortable. Uh oh! At that point the flight attendant came around with food, which I ate a little of and just mostly feigned sleep for the remaining time in the air.

Upon arrival in Moscow, I ran through the terminal through customs and found that my flight from Moscow > Tel Aviv had also been delayed an hour. Yes! I made it to the gate and on the plane. This plane was a much nicer aircraft (still no entertainment system) with at least five additional inches of leg room and three inches of width on the seat! Success! Ok, just a few more hours until I land in Israel…

I got off the flight, interacted with an intimidating Israeli man at customs, and headed to baggage claim. My luck was looking up because all of my 3 (!!) bags had arrived. Phew! I had been in Moscow for under 45 minutes, leaving me, in the end, impressed with Transaero airlines. They may delay your flight, abuse the unwritten rules of edible food and ignore all standards for in flight entertainment but be sure your baggage WILL arrive at your destination.

I walked through the doors and found Hunter immediately. Together at last!

Entering Jerusalem

It was a long time coming.

I knew for several months, that come September 5th I would need to get on a plane and leave my life in the U.S. behind. Despite this inevitable truth, or perhaps because of it, I made every effort to see those people who are important to me before this looming deadline. Since Hunter left New York at the beginning of July, I found myself feeling more adrift than normal. Even though nothing major had changed externally – I was in my home city, going to the same job and eating the same oatmeal every day, I didn’t quite feel like myself. It took me some time to understand that I wasn’t myself just living in NYC and going to work and eating oatmeal, I needed people around me who love me and who I can laugh with and hug and all of a sudden, with Hunter gone, there was a noticeable absence.

So, I did what I do very well and completely over-scheduled myself. Left with this new feeling of emptiness, I felt that the only solution was to fill it with weekend trips and extended visits to my closest friends and family. I must admit that there were times that I just didn’t really feel like driving in the car, or catching a flight or train, or even putting on a nice outfit for dinner. But, the reason I pushed past my own diminishing energy level, was because I knew that if I spent even five minutes in the company of these people, I would immediately smile and wake up.

One last happy hour with NYU comrades Shaina, Andrea, Sarah & Carolyn

Shopping and lunch with Boo in Highland Park

Taste testing two varieties of smoked chicken a la Willhooley in Crown Heights

Quick trip to Maryland with Emily

Dinner in Prospect Heights with Jude, Ward & Jocey

Becca & Nathan in Ann Arbor for a few days

DELICIOUS Hamburger at Au Cheval with Rachael in Chicago

Final rooftop dinner in NYC with Mom, Teddy, Sarah, Charlie & Jo

Gotta fit in one more bus ride with the Valeries in NYC

Mom & Dad in South Haven for the weekend

Jessie and I in Chicago after dinner at Cindy’s

New Rochelle with Sarah & Ben

End of an era. End of couch time in the East Village with Maya & Michael

Kathryn, Diana & I show our athletic side in Minneapolis

A “Milo” moment in Maine

Fellow survivors of LIU PT program

Nany in Lindenhurst, feeling good!

Seeing everyone over the past two months at first made saying good-bye even more difficult, and set my brain in denial mode. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” I kept saying in an offhand way, easily walking away until my friend reminded me that “soon” was, in fact, not in the cards. I transitioned slowly through denial into acceptance of not being able to physically see those close to me whenever I wanted/felt like buying a short plane ticket. This time with all of these special people has reminded me of how lucky I am to be surrounded by so many loving individuals, and how deep these relationships run. Some of these people came into my life only a few years earlier, a fact I am constantly surprised by given the depth of our friendships. This idea, that a close bond can be formed within a short period of time, is encouraging as I move into this next phase of my life in Israel. Although it seems impossible right now, I may indeed find myself making new friends of the caliber that I have at home, even though these people are complete strangers now.

For those of you who I have seen before leaving the US, thank you for your support and love. Even if your photo is not above, you know who you are and that I love you dearly.

TTFN