And then there were three

Lost another roommate today, who moved to a warmer room. On Tuesday another one is going home, so there will be just one more to knock off.

Had a big ATM scare today. Went to the bank, which I later found out was named "Discount Bank" in Hebrew. For a reason. Put my ATM card in the machine, which then began wigging out. Rebooted 3 times, saw the Windows startup screen, the DOS memory check screen, and then... nothing. It died. With my card inside. I started to panic, and a woman in the line behind me tracked down someone in the bank. Turns out the bank was closed for another 2 hours, so I had to go back and sweat until 4, then run back to the bank. The ATM was then working--someone was taking out money. And my card was nowhere that I could see. Went inside, and a very nice bank guard or helper or lackey of some sort found me the guy to talk to, who then opened up the ATM from the inside and retrieved my card from its innards like Jonah from the whale. I didn't realize an ATM could swallow a card. "Looks bent" the guy said. "Maybe broken." Found another bank, and luckily it still worked.

Also, to prove that all technology hates me, my SIM card died. I'm going up to Haifa this weekend, so I actually need it for the first time, to call my contact who will pick me up at the bus station. I contacted the phone salesman, who said he'd have a new SIM card delivered between 7:30 and 8:00 that night. I waited until 8:30, then left empty-handed, because I had a reservation for the tunnel tour. I hope the Haifa bus station has pay phones.

New guests

Ok, now I'm up to four roommates. Every time I come home, there's a new Goldilocks in the bed.

I find myself racing to the kitchen now at exactly meal times: I can't risk missing out on food. Tonight, food ran out about 5 minutes after I got there.

I learned today that it seems that incompetence in the cell phone industry is world wide. Yesterday they canceled my US phone number. I emailed them, they apologized, and said they'd reinstate it. Instead, it seems that my phone service has been canceled entirely.

Wasting time

The wireless network in the dorm is called "Bittul Torah". Bittul Torah means "not studying Torah" as in doing something else with your time instead of reading the books. Bittul Torah is considered a sin. Get the hint?

Food Fight

Food in the yeshiva isn't bad: three meals a day. The trouble is, you get exactly half an hour to eat, and there's a limited amount. So, if you get there 5 minutes after they open, you can probably select from some scraps of peppers or maybe a bowl of kasha. Everything else goes instantly; it's like a piranha pool. Yesterday for supper all I got was two baked potatoes and some canned tuna.

One of the students told me that conservative and reform jews are different from "Torah Jews". They're still Jews, but they're different. The teachers are old enough and mature enough to have gotten past this attitude, but most of the student body is made up of baal teshuva, and newly observants, like converts, in every religion tend to be very zealous. Add that to a 22 year old mentality, and it can make for some hard-core mentality. They're all very kind, and very pious, but it'll be a few years, I think, before they're comfortable enough in their own skin to begin to accept the world around them.

New Roommate

Bags on the bed indicate a new roommate. Bottle on the desk indicates a cologne wearer.

Creepy skinny southern old guy here asked if i was studying at this yeshiva. Said I wasn't, and he giggled, and said "well I better not tell you what I'm doing here, then." His son is on the computer watching youtube videos of people shooting each other, and a piranha eating a duck. Shudder. I think old city living isn't worth this.

Totally overwhelmed

Was up by 6:30 today, after getting to bed at midnight, and I think that's going to be the pattern from now on. Day began with extreme distress after sitting in on my first partnered learning session in Gemara. Not only is it in Aramaic, a language with no vowels, but they leave out about 40% of the words at random, and abbreviate another 10%. Seriously. Spent an hour trying to decipher 4 lines of text with another guy, and we basically got most of it wrong.

Then had a (Torah) hebrew class, where we got our next 15 verbs and new conjugation pattern and another hour of homework. I have hebrew four times a week. Felt totally buried. Then someone gave me a tip: You don't have to go to every class. Stress possibly reduced from extreme to high levels.

Managed to get the shower to work again today, after some fiddling, so we're nearing a 50% hit rate for hot water showers. Can't ask for more than that.

Fun fact

In Israel, milk comes in bags.

First day of school

Boy, don't eat a giant lamb burger with onions at 11:00 at night.

First day at school, and my average class size is: 3. That's what you get for being in the beginner's track in a yeshiva. I can't complain. Oh, wait--I'm Jewish, of course I can.

Lunch wasn't bad, but it's like a prison lunch: grab all the food you can as quick as you can, cause it vanishes fast.

Top find of the day: pair of plastic sandals (the woman called them "flippers") in the mall by the bus station. Also learned that according to halacha, you can't take aspirin on shabbos if you have a headache, but you can take aspirin on shabbos if you think you're going to get a headache.

Post Shabbat High

A hot shower and a lamb burger later, and I feel much, much better. My feeble attempt at schnorring a Shabbat meal failed, and I spend 24 hours with a loaf of challah and three oranges and myself. Not good company.

Prayed at the wall, climbed up the creepy ladder and there was a surprisingly good view. No pictures, though: Shabbat.

After a long, long day alone, found out that the hot water was on again. Bonus for me: with my glasses off, I can't see the floor, so I can shower without plastic sandals, which I haven't been able to find for love or money. Apparently the only thing you need in the old city are a menorah, 50 pieces of armenian painted ceramics, and some red powdered spice of some kind, and maybe gold or silver with your name engraved on it. That's all the stores sell, over and over, and over. And over. Nothing useful like plastic sandals.

Anyway, the Burger Bar opened after Shabbos and provided my first hot meal in over a day, and mmm boy, never has a chopped lambburger tasted so good.

Turns out that the "historical building" claim made in the Craigslist ad for this dorm comes from the fact that in 1837 this was the first Jewish hospital in Jerusalem. It later became a hospital specializing in terminal cases. This probably explains the spreading pool of blood that appears by my bed each night. :(

It was evening and it was morning: One Day

Ok, I want to go home now. Now. Now :(

I had prewritten my first blog entry on the airplane out here, and was planning to muse on the proper tone to use for this blog: wry and catty, a-la David Sedaris, or urbane and witty, a-la New Yorker. The appropriate tone turns out to be desperate.

My housing was billed as "shared housing" which meant, I figured, two in a room, sharing a bathroom. You know, like a dorm. Turns out there are four bunk beds in my room--eight beds, count 'em, Izzy. Luckily there's only one other guy there now, but there's no guarantee. Plus, the quality of the rooms is essentially Youth Hostel. Which was good when I was a youth. But now I'm a cranky, cranky old man, and thin mats in a dormitory with a bathroom shared by many, many people is kind of a downer, even if it is in the old city.

Another worry I had; on taking these rooms I had to agree to be a ben Torah. Ok, Ben Torah, Ben Affleck--basically I'm thinking it means be a good guy, right? Well--the computer usage is theoretically "for business only" (not what I'm doing now). And just what level of observance is actually going to be required here? Very observant Jews have to take some special steps just to be able to brush their teeth on Shabbos. And I don't think they can shower on Shabbos. I like cleanliness. I like showers. I'm imagining taking showers in secret, brushing under the covers, until a paid stoolie rats me out to the religious police and I get kicked out. Viva la resistance.