On Tiberias, and the Chocolate Tour
I've got two articles in the "Israel Travel" supplement of The Jewish Week this week.
For some reason they are formatted badly online. Don't worry, in the print edition there are actually paragraph breaks.
Tips on what to do in Tiberias here. (Please excuse the repetition of the first paragraph - that's NOT the way I handed in the story!)
Chocolate-and-Charity Tour story here.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wisdom of the "Natives"
I was so proud of myself, ages ago, when I introduced Treppenwitz to the Pe'air bakery. It's nice to have little insider secrets about what's good in one's city, which one only finds out after living there a while.
Last week, my brother-in-law was in Israel for business meetings, and we spent an afternoon together, shopping for gifts for my sister and eating out, catching up on news at home, etc. It was up to me to choose where to eat; his only criteria were "not dairy, and must be inside and air conditioned."
My first thought was Cafe Rimon, but when we got there, we looked at the menu they've set up outside, and it didn't look appealing. They don't have a business lunch, and spending 50+ shekels on food that I wasn't in the mood for just didn't do it for me.
So I led my brother-in-law through the labyrinth which is the Ben Yehuda pedestrian square and Yaffo Street, and then suddenly made a right through a gate in the street, down a dark alley.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Luiz asked.
"Trust me."
And suddenly, the dark alley became a quaint, old-fashioned courtyard, with restaurants lining each side.
We ate at Eldad VeZehoo, which I'd heard from others is one of the best restaurants in Jerusalem - and they were right. The service was good, the decor was great, and the food - YUM! (And yes, they have a business lunch deal.)
"I never would have found this place on my own," Luiz said. "For some things, you really need a native."
After five years, it's nice for someone to think of me as a native!
For those who want to share in the secret: The alley is at 31 Yaffo Street.
Shabbat shalom.
I was so proud of myself, ages ago, when I introduced Treppenwitz to the Pe'air bakery. It's nice to have little insider secrets about what's good in one's city, which one only finds out after living there a while.
Last week, my brother-in-law was in Israel for business meetings, and we spent an afternoon together, shopping for gifts for my sister and eating out, catching up on news at home, etc. It was up to me to choose where to eat; his only criteria were "not dairy, and must be inside and air conditioned."
My first thought was Cafe Rimon, but when we got there, we looked at the menu they've set up outside, and it didn't look appealing. They don't have a business lunch, and spending 50+ shekels on food that I wasn't in the mood for just didn't do it for me.
So I led my brother-in-law through the labyrinth which is the Ben Yehuda pedestrian square and Yaffo Street, and then suddenly made a right through a gate in the street, down a dark alley.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Luiz asked.
"Trust me."
And suddenly, the dark alley became a quaint, old-fashioned courtyard, with restaurants lining each side.
We ate at Eldad VeZehoo, which I'd heard from others is one of the best restaurants in Jerusalem - and they were right. The service was good, the decor was great, and the food - YUM! (And yes, they have a business lunch deal.)
"I never would have found this place on my own," Luiz said. "For some things, you really need a native."
After five years, it's nice for someone to think of me as a native!
For those who want to share in the secret: The alley is at 31 Yaffo Street.
Shabbat shalom.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
For This, She Showered?
My roommate has been having a hard time the last few days, physically and emotionally. Among other things, she spent several hours in the emergency room recently because she's had debilitating back pain.
And now, this.
Before you read it, I just want to add that the guy she's talking about drove in from Holon . . .
(In my news: I spent Tuesday with my brother-in-law, who was in Israel for business meetings, and yesterday I spent with Sparky. I also picked up my new, frameless (more invisible/less funky than the old ones) glasses. This afternoon I'm trying to get some work done so I can, you know, earn money.)
My roommate has been having a hard time the last few days, physically and emotionally. Among other things, she spent several hours in the emergency room recently because she's had debilitating back pain.
And now, this.
Before you read it, I just want to add that the guy she's talking about drove in from Holon . . .
(In my news: I spent Tuesday with my brother-in-law, who was in Israel for business meetings, and yesterday I spent with Sparky. I also picked up my new, frameless (more invisible/less funky than the old ones) glasses. This afternoon I'm trying to get some work done so I can, you know, earn money.)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Night and Day
My friend Chava went into the emergency room on Thursday at the suggestion of her doctor: tests had shown that she might have diabetes. Her husband, Marc, called me and asked for help. He had to go home to be with their little daughter, but Chava needed company overnight. Could I come?
Of course I could. Chava is one of my best friends AND when I'm sick, she comes to my aid all the time.
So I spent Thursday night at Hadassah Har Tzofim (Mount Scopus), first in the ER and then in the Intermediate Care unit. (She indeed has diabetes. Type I. Utter surprise for her and necessitating major lifestyle changes. A shock and a big adjustment . . . )
Then, on Friday, I came home and took a nap and showered and packed some more stuff, and went back to Har Tzofim to spend Shabbat there. Chava and Marc very generously booked a room for me and our other friend Gila at the nearby Regency hotel, so that we could sleep comfortably and still have a short walk to the hospital (since Orthodox Jews don't use cars on Shabbat).
Now, this is the second time I've spent Shabbat in a hospital. The first time was when my mother was hospitalized in Boston for over a week, and I flew back to the States to be with her because no one else in my family could do it at the time (long story).
Let me tell you, the difference between being a hospital guest in the States vs. Israel, if you are an observant Jew, is like night and day.
Let me preface this further by saying that Har Tzofim is not a particularly "Jewish" hospital. From what I could see, most of the patients and half the staff are Arab. In my 2.5 days there, I didn't see so many Jews, considering that it's Jerusalem.
However. In the States, since I couldn't leave the hospital during Shabbat, I slept on a couch rolled up in a sheet in the visitor's lounge in the hallway, underneath a blaring television which I couldn't turn off. I was on a high floor, so I didn't go outside at all because getting back up to the room would have been a royal pain. On Friday, the Young Israel of Brookline sent over catered, boxed Kosher meals for me, but finding a place to refrigerate them was an adventure. It was boring, and lonely, and incredibly depressing. (To be fair, I was alone, and my mother was unconscious most of the time, and in pain when she was awake, so the boredom was worse -- this time, Chava was awake and talkative most of the time, and Gila was there too.)
At Har Tzofim, visitors who are Sabbath observant are provided with mattresses and sheets, and allowed to sleep overnight on Friday night in doctors' offices, where one has a sink and a door one can lock. I was privileged that Chava and Marc could afford to put us up at the hotel, but what a relief to know that those without the means for the Hyatt can still sleep in a quiet, dark, private room on a real mattress.
Shabbat meals with singing, divrei Torah, and traditional (Ashkenazi) foods are served for dinner on Friday, lunch on Saturday, and seudat Shlishit, with Edah Charedit kashrut so that anyone can join. And indeed, everyone did: Men in shtreimels, men in blue-and-white kippot, and men who put on a kippah just for Shabbat. At my table there was a be-sheiteled woman from Mea Shearim whose father had had a stroke, a settler-looking labor coach spending Shabbat in the hospital because a client was in labor, a dati-leumi doctor from the pediatric ER; and two elderly patients in wheelchairs who were clearly haredi.
On Friday afternoon, patients and visitors may light their Shabbat candles at the nurses' stations. Someone comes around to say kiddush on each floor for anyone who wants to hear it -- same with Havdala on Saturday night. Traditional prayer services are conducted on the second floor. And there are "Shabbat elevators," which stop automatically on every floor.
Additionally, for Gila and me, there was the fact that the Regency is gorgeous, serves kosher food in the dining room, and also has Shabbat elevators. And the electric main door is "neutralized" for Shabbat.
Though I feel bad for Chava, and of course spending time in the hospital is stressful even for us guests, in an odd way it was all sort of fun, like some sort of twisted, but successful, Shabbaton. Gila, Chava and I had a great time indulging in "girl talk," there was lots of good, hot, kosher food easily available, the Regency was gorgeous . . . it was almost like camp.
Except that my friend is sick and was on an insulin drip.
My friend Chava went into the emergency room on Thursday at the suggestion of her doctor: tests had shown that she might have diabetes. Her husband, Marc, called me and asked for help. He had to go home to be with their little daughter, but Chava needed company overnight. Could I come?
Of course I could. Chava is one of my best friends AND when I'm sick, she comes to my aid all the time.
So I spent Thursday night at Hadassah Har Tzofim (Mount Scopus), first in the ER and then in the Intermediate Care unit. (She indeed has diabetes. Type I. Utter surprise for her and necessitating major lifestyle changes. A shock and a big adjustment . . . )
Then, on Friday, I came home and took a nap and showered and packed some more stuff, and went back to Har Tzofim to spend Shabbat there. Chava and Marc very generously booked a room for me and our other friend Gila at the nearby Regency hotel, so that we could sleep comfortably and still have a short walk to the hospital (since Orthodox Jews don't use cars on Shabbat).
Now, this is the second time I've spent Shabbat in a hospital. The first time was when my mother was hospitalized in Boston for over a week, and I flew back to the States to be with her because no one else in my family could do it at the time (long story).
Let me tell you, the difference between being a hospital guest in the States vs. Israel, if you are an observant Jew, is like night and day.
Let me preface this further by saying that Har Tzofim is not a particularly "Jewish" hospital. From what I could see, most of the patients and half the staff are Arab. In my 2.5 days there, I didn't see so many Jews, considering that it's Jerusalem.
However. In the States, since I couldn't leave the hospital during Shabbat, I slept on a couch rolled up in a sheet in the visitor's lounge in the hallway, underneath a blaring television which I couldn't turn off. I was on a high floor, so I didn't go outside at all because getting back up to the room would have been a royal pain. On Friday, the Young Israel of Brookline sent over catered, boxed Kosher meals for me, but finding a place to refrigerate them was an adventure. It was boring, and lonely, and incredibly depressing. (To be fair, I was alone, and my mother was unconscious most of the time, and in pain when she was awake, so the boredom was worse -- this time, Chava was awake and talkative most of the time, and Gila was there too.)
At Har Tzofim, visitors who are Sabbath observant are provided with mattresses and sheets, and allowed to sleep overnight on Friday night in doctors' offices, where one has a sink and a door one can lock. I was privileged that Chava and Marc could afford to put us up at the hotel, but what a relief to know that those without the means for the Hyatt can still sleep in a quiet, dark, private room on a real mattress.
Shabbat meals with singing, divrei Torah, and traditional (Ashkenazi) foods are served for dinner on Friday, lunch on Saturday, and seudat Shlishit, with Edah Charedit kashrut so that anyone can join. And indeed, everyone did: Men in shtreimels, men in blue-and-white kippot, and men who put on a kippah just for Shabbat. At my table there was a be-sheiteled woman from Mea Shearim whose father had had a stroke, a settler-looking labor coach spending Shabbat in the hospital because a client was in labor, a dati-leumi doctor from the pediatric ER; and two elderly patients in wheelchairs who were clearly haredi.
On Friday afternoon, patients and visitors may light their Shabbat candles at the nurses' stations. Someone comes around to say kiddush on each floor for anyone who wants to hear it -- same with Havdala on Saturday night. Traditional prayer services are conducted on the second floor. And there are "Shabbat elevators," which stop automatically on every floor.
Additionally, for Gila and me, there was the fact that the Regency is gorgeous, serves kosher food in the dining room, and also has Shabbat elevators. And the electric main door is "neutralized" for Shabbat.
Though I feel bad for Chava, and of course spending time in the hospital is stressful even for us guests, in an odd way it was all sort of fun, like some sort of twisted, but successful, Shabbaton. Gila, Chava and I had a great time indulging in "girl talk," there was lots of good, hot, kosher food easily available, the Regency was gorgeous . . . it was almost like camp.
Except that my friend is sick and was on an insulin drip.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Life Update
Nothing dramatically new to report. Just a quick update for the benefit of my friends and family:
1- Liza and I spent Shabbat at the home of Trilcat, whom neither of us had met before. She reads our blogs and invited us for Shabbat. A good time was had by all. The baby is adorable, and I became very good friends with Poofy the dog. Thanks, Trilcat and Trilcat's husband!
2- I signed up to go to a Shabbat meal this coming Friday night, for singles aged 30-45. I was so proud of myself for doing something proactive. Now the meal has been cancelled because not enough people signed up. :-( So I'm planning to go to Beth and Simcha instead.
3- Last night, Sarah Beth, Liza and I went to the Malcha Mall to see "Mama Mia!: The Movie." It was so much fun! I was dancing in my seat.
4- I just finished a few articles and am looking for new projects. Meanwhile, I'm busy re-organizing my closet.
5- My washing machine is broken! For real this time! It stopped in the middle of a cycle and now won't turn on at all. The repairman is in my bathroom at this very moment, working on it.
So you see, life is all thrills and chills in the Middle East.
P.S. The comments over at this post have become very interesting. Check it out!
P.P.S. Washing machine is fixed! The on/off button had burned out and is now replaced. Thrills and chills, people!
Nothing dramatically new to report. Just a quick update for the benefit of my friends and family:
1- Liza and I spent Shabbat at the home of Trilcat, whom neither of us had met before. She reads our blogs and invited us for Shabbat. A good time was had by all. The baby is adorable, and I became very good friends with Poofy the dog. Thanks, Trilcat and Trilcat's husband!
2- I signed up to go to a Shabbat meal this coming Friday night, for singles aged 30-45. I was so proud of myself for doing something proactive. Now the meal has been cancelled because not enough people signed up. :-( So I'm planning to go to Beth and Simcha instead.
3- Last night, Sarah Beth, Liza and I went to the Malcha Mall to see "Mama Mia!: The Movie." It was so much fun! I was dancing in my seat.
4- I just finished a few articles and am looking for new projects. Meanwhile, I'm busy re-organizing my closet.
5- My washing machine is broken! For real this time! It stopped in the middle of a cycle and now won't turn on at all. The repairman is in my bathroom at this very moment, working on it.
So you see, life is all thrills and chills in the Middle East.
P.S. The comments over at this post have become very interesting. Check it out!
P.P.S. Washing machine is fixed! The on/off button had burned out and is now replaced. Thrills and chills, people!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Meet Liz
Liz is one of my new favorite people.
She is a friend of my roommate, and now she is my friend too (I hope!)
Liz is an American. She is not Jewish. Her studies in linguistics in college led to an interest in Semitic languages, and she became impressively fluent in both Hebrew and Arabic. Then she decided to get an M.A. in Middle Eastern Studies, and got into Hebrew University, which is how she ended up in our neck of the woods.
To help with necessities like, oh, a place to live, Liz also became a part-time "professional volunteer" for a non-profit organization that runs a playground and rock-climbing facility for Palestinian children in the tiny, mostly Christian, Bethlehem suburb of Beit Sahour (otherwise known as "the middle of nowhere"). The job came with a cheap place to live and something interesting to put on her resume.
As a secular American living in PA-controlled territory and studying and hanging out in Israeli Jerusalem, speaking both Hebrew and Arabic, Liz has a unique -- and frankly, hysterically funny-- perspective on Arabs, Jews, and Arab-Israeli relations. I keep telling her she's got to start a blog, but she's too shy.
This is Liz, sitting in our kitchen:
Yes, she is well aware that she dresses like a mitnachelet (an Israeli settler). She has been told as much by many, many people. The scarf she has wrapped around her head in this photo, to protect herself against the sun at the Israeli folk festival she attended, completes the look. She doesn't mind being told she looks like a religious Jewish settler. She just says "Well, these are my clothes" and moves on with her day.
Liz sometimes sleeps over at our apartment, because traveling between Western Jerusalem and Beit Sahour is quite a trek. What with all the time she has spent at check-points, Liz now knows lots of useful Arabic phrases, which she has picked up from Israeli soldiers. Our favorite is "take your sheep and go home."
Anyhow, Liz sleeps over and uses the opportunity to read my Kitzur Shulchan Aruch on the laws of kashrut, which confuse her and which she wants to understand better. And then she regales us with tales of life on the other side.
Liz's visa ran out, and her volunteer job came to an end, and she's finished with her classes, so it looked like she'd have to go back to America for good. She spent a long time looking for a job which would allow her to get another visa (which she did, eventually). I asked her why, if she was pretty much done with her Master's, it was so important to her to come back.
She said "I didn't realize, when I signed up to come here, how much the people would come to mean to me. It didn't occur to me that I would love it here, and that I would feel so connected to this place and to the people."
What I love about Liz is that she meant this, completely and sincerely, both about her Christian and Muslim friends in Beit Sahour and about her Jewish friends in Jerusalem.
Liz is smart, entertaining, laid-back, and has a unique perspective, and I'm so happy she is coming back!
Can we please convince her to keep a blog?
Liz is one of my new favorite people.
She is a friend of my roommate, and now she is my friend too (I hope!)
Liz is an American. She is not Jewish. Her studies in linguistics in college led to an interest in Semitic languages, and she became impressively fluent in both Hebrew and Arabic. Then she decided to get an M.A. in Middle Eastern Studies, and got into Hebrew University, which is how she ended up in our neck of the woods.
To help with necessities like, oh, a place to live, Liz also became a part-time "professional volunteer" for a non-profit organization that runs a playground and rock-climbing facility for Palestinian children in the tiny, mostly Christian, Bethlehem suburb of Beit Sahour (otherwise known as "the middle of nowhere"). The job came with a cheap place to live and something interesting to put on her resume.
As a secular American living in PA-controlled territory and studying and hanging out in Israeli Jerusalem, speaking both Hebrew and Arabic, Liz has a unique -- and frankly, hysterically funny-- perspective on Arabs, Jews, and Arab-Israeli relations. I keep telling her she's got to start a blog, but she's too shy.
This is Liz, sitting in our kitchen:
Yes, she is well aware that she dresses like a mitnachelet (an Israeli settler). She has been told as much by many, many people. The scarf she has wrapped around her head in this photo, to protect herself against the sun at the Israeli folk festival she attended, completes the look. She doesn't mind being told she looks like a religious Jewish settler. She just says "Well, these are my clothes" and moves on with her day.
Liz sometimes sleeps over at our apartment, because traveling between Western Jerusalem and Beit Sahour is quite a trek. What with all the time she has spent at check-points, Liz now knows lots of useful Arabic phrases, which she has picked up from Israeli soldiers. Our favorite is "take your sheep and go home."
Anyhow, Liz sleeps over and uses the opportunity to read my Kitzur Shulchan Aruch on the laws of kashrut, which confuse her and which she wants to understand better. And then she regales us with tales of life on the other side.
Liz's visa ran out, and her volunteer job came to an end, and she's finished with her classes, so it looked like she'd have to go back to America for good. She spent a long time looking for a job which would allow her to get another visa (which she did, eventually). I asked her why, if she was pretty much done with her Master's, it was so important to her to come back.
She said "I didn't realize, when I signed up to come here, how much the people would come to mean to me. It didn't occur to me that I would love it here, and that I would feel so connected to this place and to the people."
What I love about Liz is that she meant this, completely and sincerely, both about her Christian and Muslim friends in Beit Sahour and about her Jewish friends in Jerusalem.
Liz is smart, entertaining, laid-back, and has a unique perspective, and I'm so happy she is coming back!
Can we please convince her to keep a blog?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
What were they thinking?
Via Mom in Israel, a new video promoting tourism to Jerusalem, brought to us by the ever-out-of-touch folks at the Israel Ministry of Tourism.
The first 49 seconds are fine. After that . . . well, you'll see . . .
How is this video silly, misogynist, and fat-phobic? Let me count the ways . . .
Via Mom in Israel, a new video promoting tourism to Jerusalem, brought to us by the ever-out-of-touch folks at the Israel Ministry of Tourism.
The first 49 seconds are fine. After that . . . well, you'll see . . .
How is this video silly, misogynist, and fat-phobic? Let me count the ways . . .
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
An open letter to the municipal governments of Modiin Illit, Kiryat Sefer, Lapid, Matityahu, and Chashmonaim (and cc’ed to the Superbus company):
[If any of my readers would help me out by translating this letter into Hebrew and formatting it onto a Word document, ready to mail, I'd really appreciate it!]
I’m writing to complain about an aspect of service on the Superbus 310, 320, and 330 lines, which serve your area, and to urge you to either pressure Superbus to improve or to establish bus service with a different company
.
I take Superbus often on Fridays to visit friends in Chashmonaim for Shabbat. I have no choice but to take Superbus because there is no other affordable way to get from
Time after time, the bus schedule posted at superbus.co.il is outrageously inaccurate.
Sometimes it posts that the last bus is at one hour when in fact there are several buses afterward.
But more often, and more problematically, the website will say that the last bus leaves
This past Friday, for example, I checked the Superbus website, which said that several buses would leave
Meanwhile, a crowd of people – I counted 23 at this bus stop alone – were discussing the fact that they needed to get to Kiryat Sefer, Matityahu, and Chashmonaim for Shabbat, while about a dozen Egged buses headed for other destinations passed by us. It is only because another would-be passenger went to the trouble of arranging a 15-seat private sherut at the last moment that I was able to get to my destination. However, there were still 8-9 people at the bus stop when I left, most of whom needed to get to Matityahu; I have no idea how, or if, they got where they needed to go.
In short, it has been my experience over the last few years that Superbus is far from “super,” and I urge you to exert pressure on them to:
a) update their website weekly with accurate scheduling information.
b) be available by telephone throughout the day to their customers, including on Fridays.
c) run buses on Fridays until 2 hours before Shabbat, as other bus companies do.
If they do not make accurate information more easily available, especially regarding the Friday schedule, I encourage you to give contracts to competing bus companies to provide service to your area.
Thank you for your attention.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Window into my sister's life
My nephew David is about 2 years old. I love talking to him on the phone.
My nephew David is about 2 years old. I love talking to him on the phone.
Sarah (on the phone with her sister, Rivka): So then I . . .
Rivka: David! What are you doing?
[Sarah pauses]
David, in background: babble, babble
Rivka: What do you mean, you have yoghurt in your pocket? How did it get there?
David: I don’t know! babble babble
Rivka: Did you put it there on purpose? Did you put yoghurt in the pockets of your shorts?
David: Yeah!
Rivka: Why would you do that?
David: I don’t know! And babble babble babble
Rivka: What do you mean, you put yoghurt in your diaper? Do I have to change your diaper now?
[Sarah starts to laugh.]
Rivka: I have a sister working in a café like a grownup halfway around the world, and she’s laughing at my life.
Sarah: No, I’m laughing at David.
Rivka: Here, David, tell Doda what you did.
David, getting on phone: Doda!
Sarah: Hi, David!
David: babble babble yoghurt babble pocket babble diapah
Sarah: You put yoghurt in your pocket?
David: Yeah!
Sarah: And in your diaper?
David: Yeah!
Sarah: How does that feel?
David: Um . . . um . . . babble babble on poopose
Sarah: Does the yoghurt in your diaper feel good, or bad?
David: Bad! And babble babble Ima change diapah
Sarah: Now your Ima will give you a new diaper?
David: Yeah! Bye!
It occurs to me that cell phones and VOIP have completely changed the nature of knowledge one continues to have about one's family after one moves abroad.
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