Shabbat in Jerusalem is like nothing I've ever seen before. Four lane highways are completely deserted. The silence on the streets and absence of people seems like something out of a movie. We started the day late (by "late" I mean that we started around noon instead of 6 a.m. on other days), which meant we got to sleep in. Yay! Even though sleeping in meant more time in the teenist beds in the whole, wide world, it was still awesome.
Before we left, our guide told us that we had an opportunity to go into an ultra-orthodox enclave in the city, but that we needed to be wearing clothes that covered our knees and shoulders, much like when we went to the Wall the day before. We ventured out of the hotel on a walking tour of Jerusalem. We saw a couple of orthodox men on the street and a really heavily populated internet cafe (oooooh, shame!) but otherwise, the streets were pretty silent. We wound our way around the area near our hotel and ended up back at the market we visited on Friday. The difference that 24 hours makes was astounding.
After the market, we put our cameras away (using cameras on Shabbat on the orthodox 'hood isn't kosher, so to speak) and went deeper into the neighborhoods. Kids ran around eating popsicles and staring at us through barred stairways. I pulled on a skirt over my shorts and put a scarf around my shoulders (HOT!) and wandered around with all of my similarly overdressed cohorts. The biggest thing I remember is how quiet it was. We walked by the neighborhood mikvah and into courtyards of apartment buildings. The idea of families of seven, eight, maybe more living in these small apartments -- especially in the heat -- made me feel clausterphobic.
After we emerged from the neighborhood, we walked to a city park. The park was heavily populated with families relaxing and playing. On the field, a group of guys played soccer next to a suited othorodox man playing frisbie with two little girls. We all hunkered down on a slope and found one of the many ice cream trucks that would mark our trips through Israel. Seriously, those trucks are everywhere. On the side of the truck, a picture of Eva Longoria biting into a chocolate Dove bar stared at us seductively. We spent a couple of hours in the park, laying around, tanning and napping. This, I thought, is a great way to spend a Saturday.
Also, the park was the first taste we had of Israeli's general dislike for recycling and/or using proper trash cans. Everywhere in the park were pieces and spots of litter, and cans and bottles were piled high in trash cans. It never felt dirty, but cluttered. We would see this again and again in parks and on trails throughout the country.
When we finally packed everything up, we followed a trail up over a hill and found ourselves at the Knesset, the Israeli parliament. Many of the government buildings are in this area and, as we stood taking our tourist pictures, about six other Birthright trips converged in the same place. We all gave each other the hairy eyeball -- Why are you guys here? This is clearly my tourist spot. And why are all of the 18 year olds dressed up like they're hitting the club scene? -- and promptly ignored each other. For we are all very mature.
After our tour of government buildings, we headed back to the hotel for dinner and for (finally!) our first night out in Jerusalem. We did a quick change and scarfed down dinner before heading to Ben Yehuda street.
Ben Yehuda street, from what I could tell, is a tourist trap disguised as something remotely trendy. The pedestrian street was swarming with tour groups and vendors sold wares at huge markup. Our guide warned us before she unleashed us on the street that we should try to haggle down prices and, after seeing how clearly the vendors would take advantage of oblivious tourists, I embraced this wholeheartedly. Michelle and I wandered up and down the street, trying to find some decent trash and trinkets to bring home. We found some scarves and earrings, and I found a mezuzah for my sister. Overall, I think I knocked the prices down about 40% on each and I'm sure I still paid way more shekels that I should have. Note to self: next time, learn to at least fake the language enough not to get swindled.
In the middle of the street, a group of Korean students sang to the strum of an acoustic guitar. I have no idea why.
We also may have purchased some really awful booze that we smuggled back to the hotel. Brand name alcohol was obscenely expensive and some of the girls found an off-brand vodka that didn't break the bank. It got the job done, but it was not delicious. Yikes.
They gathered all of us up and we took the bus to our final stop of the night. The bus stopped in a back alley in what looked like an industrial area. We all joked uncomfortably that we were going to be kidnapped or otherwise taken hostage by Jerusalem mafioso (watch out for Schlomo!). Instead, we were led into a teeny black box theater for an interactive Comedia Dell'arte show. The whole thing reminded me of improve games with masks, and I slunk low in my chair. I never really liked improv (I know, I know), but the show was fun.
Back to the hotel for our final night in Jerusalem. Again, the 18 year olds were in the hallway and we finally snapped. A group of young, yarmulke wearing boys were smoking pot and drinking heavily (and noisily) in the hallway and in their rooms. Since we were all exhausted and knew we had a big day lined up on Sunday (Yad Vashem included), we napped. Michelle and I stormed down the hallway and, I'm proud to say, totally lost it on these kids. I'm pretty sure we scared the crap out of them. And then? Then one of the little 18 year olds -- seriously, I'm pretty sure I was taller than him -- told me to "Fuck off, bitch."
Well. Ahem. Yes.
Suffice to say that after that, there were a number of phone calls to people with the authority to deal with these brats. I am proud of my old lady status and the three of us girls celebrated in our room as we heard them get ripped a new one by their trip leader. I mean, how stupid do you have to be to smoke pot in your hotel room? There's a patio. Shit.
And that was our third day. Next up: Our last day in Jerusalem, Yad Vashem and traveling to Ein Gedi.
So I am officially in my new (and improved!) apartment. The move itself wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it would be, though writing all the checks associated with said move did hurt the pocketbook and, duh, the increased rent isn't the most fun ever. But the new (and improved!) apartment -- heretofore known as Apartment 2.0 -- is so large and in charge, it's pretty fantastic.
I've been in for about a week and half now, and have already hosted two dinner parties. Why haven't I invited you, you ask? Well, first I needed to have over Patti (and her parents) and Amanda (and her husband) to thank them for all of the fantastic painting-type work they did around here. But now that they've been thanked, planning a house warming is in the works. What does that mean? Why, booze! And... um... food. And booze! Booze stored in my new, huge, giant, pantry (of doom!). C'mon. Who doesn't love pantry booze?
This also means that I will soon get back to my Israel posts. And that eventually I'll post my Flickr pictures of the move/painting/packing/evil that consumed the month of August. But first, first I need to talk politics. Yes, you thought I had given it up when I decided to work for The Man and, you know, have health insurance and not be unemployed every couple of months, as was my campaign life. But I just couldn't. And the last couple of weeks, oh, they have been good.
First, let's talk about the Democratic convention. One word: Glee! I'm a pretty regular convention watcher and never have I been so excited and interested in what's happening. John Kerry, interesting? Joe Biden, endearing? Bill Clinton, humble? Okay, kind of humble. Seriously, people. Someone finally sat them all down in the room and said "People, this is it. I know we have these "come to Jesus" talks a lot, but this is the real deal. Don't fuck this one up. If you do, it's all over. For the love of all that is holy, really. Also, Howard? Go away. No one likes you." AND IT WORKED.
Really. They stepped it up and I was riveted. And Hillary. My dear, sweet, wonderful, fucking smart Hillary. Good for you. You did exactly what we needed you to do and you looked good doing it, which says a lot about that color orange and your fabulous stylist. Really. Thank you. It makes me love you even more.
Barack, needless to say, was fantastic. Biden was great. Bill -- with the simple phrase "lead by the power of our example, not the example of our power" -- made me love him all over again. And Al. Oh, Al. Al who finally learned to make fun of himself and embraced the geek and made me sit in my car instead of walking the 10 feet to my house because I wanted to listen to the rest of his speech (engine off, thankyouverymuch) than miss any part of it. Oh, love.
And then, the next day. Sarah. Palin. People. PEOPLE!
Okay, first: I am insulted. I am insulted because I am a Hillraiser or whatever you want to call all of us who got behind Hillary. I am insulted that John McCain and whoever his white-boy cronies are, think "Well, all those Hillary people like ladies. They'll vote for us if we get a lady." And then they decided to pick a woman who stands for the exact OPPOSITE of everything Hillary stands for. Like I am so STUPID that I would think "I have lady parts. Sarah Palin has lady parts. I should vote for her!" You know, so then Sarah Palin and her Republican cronies can take away my right to decide what happens to my lady parts. OMG, people!
It's so incredibly pandering and embarrassing and... really? There weren't any Republican women with actual national service records? With more experience than some lady from Alaska who's been governor for two years and previous to that, was mayor of a town of 9,000 people? You know what? The company I work for has about 7,500 employees. Does that mean our CEO is qualified to be Vice President of the US? I mean, at least he's not currently under investigation. Good lord!
Ugh. For real. And all of the pundits who are talking about how Joe Biden better watch out because he can't be mean to a lady in the debates because she's a GIRL. A big, booby, vagina having girl. And Americans don't like it when you're mean to girls. Unless the girl is Hillary. Then it's okay.
And don't even get me started about the exploiting both the child with Down syndrome and the pregnant teenage daughter to prove the anti-choice cred.
AJH&hjg%@HGKHG
With that, I will leave you with the funniest thing I've seen all day. This is but the first of many -- watch them all!
