Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Late Night Visitor
So at 4:30 AM this morning, the front door buzzed and they delivered my package. No phone call, no nothing. Thank heavens for jet lag.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
11 pm, charles de gaulle airport
Good news, CDG has an extensive wireless internet system. Bad news: it's not free. What the hell? Typed this entry in notepad to post later. Fucking French.
Airport is kind of space-agey in that French way; they have a display of giant plant pots that glow and change color; a cylindrical space-station design, with floors connected by spiral staircases or, alternatively, tilted moving sidewalks encased in a tube. They keep these sidewalks moving all night, and they make a lot of noise. I'm not the only one spending the night here--a bunch of people camped out in corners. I'm pretty sure not all of them are travellers; there's one old woman who appears to be homeless. You don't have to go through security to get in here. Bad design # 1: even though this is only a transfer point, I still had to go through passport control and customs. To get onto my connection tomorrow, I'll have to go through passport control again. That's retarded.
------------------------
Later addition:
I ended up dozing from time to time. My Israel experience has apparently given me the ability to doze upright, bent in weird positions, for example over the top of a built in armrest on a set of airport seats.
Turns out that Newark has the same retarded design, and anyone changing planes in Newark from abroad has to go through customs, get their luggage, and then check in again to catch their next airplane.
El Al didn't have any notice of my request for a kosher meal; Continental did. How is that for irony?
Also turns out that the El Al representative in Tel Aviv was wrong that my luggage would get transferred by itself. It got to spend another day in Paris, and hopefully will be joining me tomorrow.
Airport is kind of space-agey in that French way; they have a display of giant plant pots that glow and change color; a cylindrical space-station design, with floors connected by spiral staircases or, alternatively, tilted moving sidewalks encased in a tube. They keep these sidewalks moving all night, and they make a lot of noise. I'm not the only one spending the night here--a bunch of people camped out in corners. I'm pretty sure not all of them are travellers; there's one old woman who appears to be homeless. You don't have to go through security to get in here. Bad design # 1: even though this is only a transfer point, I still had to go through passport control and customs. To get onto my connection tomorrow, I'll have to go through passport control again. That's retarded.
------------------------
Later addition:
I ended up dozing from time to time. My Israel experience has apparently given me the ability to doze upright, bent in weird positions, for example over the top of a built in armrest on a set of airport seats.
Turns out that Newark has the same retarded design, and anyone changing planes in Newark from abroad has to go through customs, get their luggage, and then check in again to catch their next airplane.
El Al didn't have any notice of my request for a kosher meal; Continental did. How is that for irony?
Also turns out that the El Al representative in Tel Aviv was wrong that my luggage would get transferred by itself. It got to spend another day in Paris, and hopefully will be joining me tomorrow.
Eilat yuckiness
The boardwalk shtick here seems to be a scam where you bet the guy whether you can stand up a beer bottle using a metal ring hanging from the end of a cord tied to a short stick. The bottle rests on its side on a slanted board, and using the ring at the end of the little fishing rod you have to get the bottle upright on the board. The carny does it over and over to make you think it's easy, and the suckers don't realize that he's not in business because it is easy. I saw two guys working this scam on the boardwalk. In Tel Aviv, the shtick was "which cup is the ball under" as the guy whisks a trio of inverted plastic cups across a tabletop at amazing speed, swapping hands and shooting the ball from cup to cup.
I reiterate my earlier statement--Eilat really is like Wildwood NJ, but all the signs are in Hebrew and Russian, and they have tropical fish off the jetties.
I reiterate my earlier statement--Eilat really is like Wildwood NJ, but all the signs are in Hebrew and Russian, and they have tropical fish off the jetties.
Eilat and petra
I'm in Eilat! In the Caesar Premier, just steps from a boardwalk as tacky as any in New Jersey, only with fewer tattoos and lots more Russians. Just got back from my two day trip to Petra and Wadi Rum, and it was full of surprises.
My trip down to Eilat was perfectly arranged to play off my already tight travel nerves: the night before my trip, i got a phone call from the airlines that the flight was changed to depart from Sde Dov airport instead of Ben Gurion. I had already arranged for a minibus direct from the yeshiva, so now I had to figure out how to make my way to Sde Dov, a tiny airport in the outskirts of Tel Aviv. Sde Dov has no public transportation, so in the end I had to take a taxi to the central bus station in Jerusalem (delayed 10 minutes at a light as they stopped traffic to allow UN envoy George Mitchell's entourage to pass by), then a minibus to the train station in Jerusalem (10 minute walk from the drop-off point to the station), then 3 train stops to Tel Aviv University, then a taxi to the airport where a security guard then grilled me for 10 minutes on Jewish holidays, where I went to Hebrew school (you don't remember the name of your hebrew school? Why not?), and my parents' names (how would she know that?).
Flight to Eilat went well, arrived at the hotel around 10:15. Got picked up by the travel company at 6:45 the next morning and rode hillbilly style in the back of a pickup to the border crossing with 3 people that I recognized from the flight down. We had to cross a scary DMZ-style zone on foot to Jordan, where we had to fork over $38 in cash to pay for a transit visa.
In preparation for my trip, I'd worn a disguise--a muslim-green t-shirt and baseball cap. I'd also bought a muslim-style skullcap in the Old City to use as a spare kippah, and packed it into my backpack. It took the border guard about 0.5 seconds to see through me and he yanked the "muslim skullcap" out of my bag in the first shot, gave me a look, and put it back, then trotted off to post the "Jew" alarm on the appropriate networks.
Trip to Petra from the border took about 2 hours by fast SUV that used all four lanes of a two lane highway (both lanes, plus both shoulders at 60 miles per hour). We went immediately to the Petra park. The first 40 minutes is a winding walk down a gulley in the mountains through drippy red rock that reminded me of Bryce Canyon state park. Red, yellow, and black sandstone walls carved by water into wild shapes and hollows, rising up 100 feed above the canyon floor. The site dates back to about 300 BCE, and includes a complex irrigation system and plentiful carvings along the walls of the canyon, but nearly no writing. Suddenly you turn a corner and reach the entrance to the main Petra site, located in a canyon, and the first site you see is the money shot--a straight on view of "The Treasury," which is the building featured in the third Indiana Jones movie. It's enormous, and breathtaking. The canyon is lined with unbelievably carved facades that are thought to have been burial chambers and locations for religious ceremonies. These caves are carved square inside, and empty, mostly consisting of one or two enormous rooms carved by hand out of the rock. The workmanship is outstanding.
The dwelling quarters of the people were thought to have been freestanding stone buildings that were destroyed in a series of 2 or 3 earthquakes. Remains of these buildings are visible further down the valley. We hiked from about 10 AM to about 4 PM down the valley and back. You can see the pictures here.
The entrance fee included a crap buffet lunch in a restaurant halfway down the valley. Something I discovered about Jordan: meals all seem to be included in package deals, but drinks are not. Ask for a glass of water, and prepare to take out your wallet, as I found out later at our hotel, where a cup of tea and a bottle of water at dinner cost me $5 in cash (they use the 7-11 method of rounding currency exchange, where all prices are rounded up to the next $2 mark in US dollars).
All the men working the tourist stuff in Petra are done up like Captain Jack Sparrow, for some reason. Black goatees, dark skin, kohl around the eyes, pirate rags over the hair. Excellent English, too.
Day 2 was down to Wadi Rum, sort of a Nevada/Arizona red rock experience. I expected it to be just treading water, but it turned out to be on par with Petra in my book. Wadi Rum is a region with crazy mountains poking abruptly out of a flat desert floor. The mountains, which loom up to 1,500 meters high, are made of sandstone that look craggy from a distance, but when you see them close up they have the same melted-candle appearance as the mountains at Petra. Our guide drove us around the sandy desert floor in the jeep, driving up to narrow-seeming cracks in the mountain that turned out to be 10' wide fissures lined with Nabotean carvings and post-Islam graffiti from passing caravans. We climbed and slid down a tall red sand dune, climbed up a scary stone archway, and ate lunch in a giant fissure in the mountain. Our guide made a small brush fire and cooked chicken and vegetable skewers and super-sweet ginger tea. he didn't ask me what I wanted to eat when he bought supplies in the morning, so I ended up eating a lunch of pita, onions, and tomatoes.
After 5 hours of driving around, we came back to Aquaba and crossed back to Israel, where another border guard grilled me on my reasons for coming to Israel, and gave me another short Jew quiz. They always ask if I have family in Israel--why do they ask that? Do they think that they'll know my family? Do they want an invitation to dinner?
My trip down to Eilat was perfectly arranged to play off my already tight travel nerves: the night before my trip, i got a phone call from the airlines that the flight was changed to depart from Sde Dov airport instead of Ben Gurion. I had already arranged for a minibus direct from the yeshiva, so now I had to figure out how to make my way to Sde Dov, a tiny airport in the outskirts of Tel Aviv. Sde Dov has no public transportation, so in the end I had to take a taxi to the central bus station in Jerusalem (delayed 10 minutes at a light as they stopped traffic to allow UN envoy George Mitchell's entourage to pass by), then a minibus to the train station in Jerusalem (10 minute walk from the drop-off point to the station), then 3 train stops to Tel Aviv University, then a taxi to the airport where a security guard then grilled me for 10 minutes on Jewish holidays, where I went to Hebrew school (you don't remember the name of your hebrew school? Why not?), and my parents' names (how would she know that?).
Flight to Eilat went well, arrived at the hotel around 10:15. Got picked up by the travel company at 6:45 the next morning and rode hillbilly style in the back of a pickup to the border crossing with 3 people that I recognized from the flight down. We had to cross a scary DMZ-style zone on foot to Jordan, where we had to fork over $38 in cash to pay for a transit visa.
In preparation for my trip, I'd worn a disguise--a muslim-green t-shirt and baseball cap. I'd also bought a muslim-style skullcap in the Old City to use as a spare kippah, and packed it into my backpack. It took the border guard about 0.5 seconds to see through me and he yanked the "muslim skullcap" out of my bag in the first shot, gave me a look, and put it back, then trotted off to post the "Jew" alarm on the appropriate networks.
Trip to Petra from the border took about 2 hours by fast SUV that used all four lanes of a two lane highway (both lanes, plus both shoulders at 60 miles per hour). We went immediately to the Petra park. The first 40 minutes is a winding walk down a gulley in the mountains through drippy red rock that reminded me of Bryce Canyon state park. Red, yellow, and black sandstone walls carved by water into wild shapes and hollows, rising up 100 feed above the canyon floor. The site dates back to about 300 BCE, and includes a complex irrigation system and plentiful carvings along the walls of the canyon, but nearly no writing. Suddenly you turn a corner and reach the entrance to the main Petra site, located in a canyon, and the first site you see is the money shot--a straight on view of "The Treasury," which is the building featured in the third Indiana Jones movie. It's enormous, and breathtaking. The canyon is lined with unbelievably carved facades that are thought to have been burial chambers and locations for religious ceremonies. These caves are carved square inside, and empty, mostly consisting of one or two enormous rooms carved by hand out of the rock. The workmanship is outstanding.
The dwelling quarters of the people were thought to have been freestanding stone buildings that were destroyed in a series of 2 or 3 earthquakes. Remains of these buildings are visible further down the valley. We hiked from about 10 AM to about 4 PM down the valley and back. You can see the pictures here.
The entrance fee included a crap buffet lunch in a restaurant halfway down the valley. Something I discovered about Jordan: meals all seem to be included in package deals, but drinks are not. Ask for a glass of water, and prepare to take out your wallet, as I found out later at our hotel, where a cup of tea and a bottle of water at dinner cost me $5 in cash (they use the 7-11 method of rounding currency exchange, where all prices are rounded up to the next $2 mark in US dollars).
All the men working the tourist stuff in Petra are done up like Captain Jack Sparrow, for some reason. Black goatees, dark skin, kohl around the eyes, pirate rags over the hair. Excellent English, too.
Day 2 was down to Wadi Rum, sort of a Nevada/Arizona red rock experience. I expected it to be just treading water, but it turned out to be on par with Petra in my book. Wadi Rum is a region with crazy mountains poking abruptly out of a flat desert floor. The mountains, which loom up to 1,500 meters high, are made of sandstone that look craggy from a distance, but when you see them close up they have the same melted-candle appearance as the mountains at Petra. Our guide drove us around the sandy desert floor in the jeep, driving up to narrow-seeming cracks in the mountain that turned out to be 10' wide fissures lined with Nabotean carvings and post-Islam graffiti from passing caravans. We climbed and slid down a tall red sand dune, climbed up a scary stone archway, and ate lunch in a giant fissure in the mountain. Our guide made a small brush fire and cooked chicken and vegetable skewers and super-sweet ginger tea. he didn't ask me what I wanted to eat when he bought supplies in the morning, so I ended up eating a lunch of pita, onions, and tomatoes.
After 5 hours of driving around, we came back to Aquaba and crossed back to Israel, where another border guard grilled me on my reasons for coming to Israel, and gave me another short Jew quiz. They always ask if I have family in Israel--why do they ask that? Do they think that they'll know my family? Do they want an invitation to dinner?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Back online again, briefly
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Some things better left unsaid
Tighty-whities are a bad choice for dormitory living; stick with boxers, folks. Briefs look disturbingly like diapers or pull-ups.
Two days left in Jerusalem.
Two days left in Jerusalem.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Things i'm looking forward to
Hot water in a sink
Paper towels more than 0.0001 millimeter thick by the sinks
Abuse from New York shopkeepers, instead of Israeli shopkeepers
Hot breakfast
Food when I want, what I want, and how much I want.
My own bedroom
My own crapper
My own shower
Crapping in my own bedroom, crapper, or shower
Driving a car
Getting up at 6:20 instead of 6:00.
Things I'll Miss
Not feeling weird wearing a kippah
A hand washing station and a bencher in most restaurants
Being able to eat in a kosher restaurant nearly anywhere
Mikveh within walking distance
Paper towels more than 0.0001 millimeter thick by the sinks
Abuse from New York shopkeepers, instead of Israeli shopkeepers
Hot breakfast
Food when I want, what I want, and how much I want.
My own bedroom
My own crapper
My own shower
Crapping in my own bedroom, crapper, or shower
Driving a car
Getting up at 6:20 instead of 6:00.
Things I'll Miss
Not feeling weird wearing a kippah
A hand washing station and a bencher in most restaurants
Being able to eat in a kosher restaurant nearly anywhere
Mikveh within walking distance
Monday, March 1, 2010
Purim
Jerusalem really breaks loose on Purim. Maybe it's repressed desires or something, but everyone here, especially the yeshiva guys in the religious neighborhoods, goes absolutely nuts. It's like spring break, minus the nudity: walking through Harnof, a relatively religious neighborhood, there are rented cars packed with teenaged yeshiva students dressed in matching doo-wop outfits or in t-shirts, playing loud reggae or rock and roll, with one or two of them sitting on the windowsill as they careen through the street. Students weave down the road in between cars, clutching drained vodka bottles. The streets are packed with traffic; tons of minivans with speakers set up on the roof blaring Israeli music, some secular, some religious. The minivans are usually party buses packed with yeshiva students, and have the doors rolled open, and drunken students hanging out shouting. The noise level is intense.
People set off serious firecrackers in the street, right in the middle of crowds. You'd think that in this country, people would be a little more circumspect about setting off loud explosions in crowded places, but nobody seems to blink an eye.
On Purim you're not supposed to turn down anyone who asks for money, and the schnorring scene is incredible. I got held up by a group of three six-year-olds, one of whom asked me for money three times in succession (a future Jewish fundraiser). A burly 17 year old kid with a fedora shoved a cup half full of coins into my face and growled "yeshiva" until I contributed. My favorite schtick, though, is a variation on the Italian violinist scheme. We were in our host's apartment, two long tables set for a meal, and there was a gentle knock at the door. I go and open the door and a whole conga line of yeshiva students in marching band outfits dance in, singing loudly, and join hands and start circling the apartment, singing and dancing, until hour host waves a 20 shekel bill at them to get them to leave. This happens two or three times more--if the door is open, a group of yeshiva students burst in and start singing, sit down at the table and start pouring themselves wine, and won't leave until the host bribes them out.
Another weirdness is that you see groups of 7-10 year old kids running around dressed in costume with lit cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. I confirmed this with my host "Purim and weddings" he says. The kids get approval to do anything they want, and you see these little kids that haven't even reached bar mitzvah running around smoking and drinking.
On the good side, there is very little lewdness; the costumes and general dress is all pretty tame; at a rave party in the park, I saw one couple making out on the ground, and one girl with a short skirt dancing around by herself.
------------------
Although you couldn't get a group of Israelis to stand in line at gunpoint, switch on a small red outline of a man on any street corner and that same group will stand there on a deserted street corner in the middle of the night for hours without daring to cross. I don't know why.
People set off serious firecrackers in the street, right in the middle of crowds. You'd think that in this country, people would be a little more circumspect about setting off loud explosions in crowded places, but nobody seems to blink an eye.
On Purim you're not supposed to turn down anyone who asks for money, and the schnorring scene is incredible. I got held up by a group of three six-year-olds, one of whom asked me for money three times in succession (a future Jewish fundraiser). A burly 17 year old kid with a fedora shoved a cup half full of coins into my face and growled "yeshiva" until I contributed. My favorite schtick, though, is a variation on the Italian violinist scheme. We were in our host's apartment, two long tables set for a meal, and there was a gentle knock at the door. I go and open the door and a whole conga line of yeshiva students in marching band outfits dance in, singing loudly, and join hands and start circling the apartment, singing and dancing, until hour host waves a 20 shekel bill at them to get them to leave. This happens two or three times more--if the door is open, a group of yeshiva students burst in and start singing, sit down at the table and start pouring themselves wine, and won't leave until the host bribes them out.
Another weirdness is that you see groups of 7-10 year old kids running around dressed in costume with lit cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. I confirmed this with my host "Purim and weddings" he says. The kids get approval to do anything they want, and you see these little kids that haven't even reached bar mitzvah running around smoking and drinking.
On the good side, there is very little lewdness; the costumes and general dress is all pretty tame; at a rave party in the park, I saw one couple making out on the ground, and one girl with a short skirt dancing around by herself.
------------------
Although you couldn't get a group of Israelis to stand in line at gunpoint, switch on a small red outline of a man on any street corner and that same group will stand there on a deserted street corner in the middle of the night for hours without daring to cross. I don't know why.
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