Jerusalem is getting really cold these days.

Volatile: adj. characterized by or subject to rapid or unexpected change

I've been published in the Boston Globe: check it out here

That's pretty cool.

Though they got a few things wrong. I'm not spending a year in Israel-only a semester. And the "Life on red alert" section is put a little out of context. I hope I don't get any hate mail for the first line of that answer.

If I recall correctly, the question was, "Is it hard to travel or get around?". I started my answer describing that native Israelis are often compared to the prickly pear plant-sabra because they're tough and thorny on the outside yet surprisingly sweet and soft on the inside.

I'm also having trouble describing exactly how I feel about Israel being "dangerous" or "volatile".

I know that Israel is on the US State Department list of travel warnings, and I still stand by my saying that Israel is not a dangerous place. In my answer, I wrote that the media portrays Jerusalem (and Israel as a whole) as a very volatile place, implying that it's not (?), but I recently posted that maybe the best way to describe the situation here is volatile.

Let me explain myself.

Perhaps the best way to put it is: Israel is not volatile in a sense that inhibits me from traveling around or taking the bus or walking to and fro around Jerusalem on a daily basis. However, there is always this slightly stressful feeling in the back of my head like this is just the calm before the storm. This is the feeling that gets intensified when I think about the latent dangers of such a cold coexistence.

Rationality and Morality

So, it's still high holidays season here in Israel.
Luckily, I've been keeping myself busy somehow.

Today is Simhat Torah, and it will be the last random weekday that the buses don't run and stores are closed until I'm guessing Chanukah. And apparently, Chanukah isn't a big deal in Israel relative to Chanukah celebrations in the states.

Yesterday night, to celebrate Shemini Atzeret, which is usually celebrated by a big family dinner (or as my non-religious Israeli Jewish friend likes to describe it: "same shit, different day"), my friends cooked a nice dinner and we topped it off with wine and a long argument about Israeli politics.

I got a nice long history lesson of Israel including all the wars from an Israeli friend, and although I argued that history is always written/re-written by the victors, he insisted that this history was pure fact.

We argued about Israeli independence, al-Nakba, education systems, check-points, etc. It was a good argument, and it's for moments like those that I wanted to come to Israel.

A really good point one of my friends made was that all the security measures and checkpoints are necessary because if they didn't exist, people could not live for fear of bombs every day. I guess that's the idea. Biseder.

But when I told her that walking through checkpoints as a non-Jew or a non-Israeli and being stopped randomly on the street to prove your identity (and your right to freedom to walk around where you please) is humiliating and done in ways that are most often very disrespectful, she agreed.

And she put it this way: The security measures including all the checkpoints, random stops, rude questions, disrespectful treatment is rational though it may be immoral. It's understandable if not justifiable.

Does the Israeli government have the responsibility to be rational or moral? Shouldn't it be both? But can any government be both especially in such conflicts? And even when they're not in conflict, all countries try to promote their own self-interest, and usually rationality wins over morality.

Maybe rationality and morality aren't mutually exclusive. One can make a rational decision that is also moral. Or one can make a rational decision that will ultimately benefit the common good even if at the individual level, the intention was selfish.

I'm sorry if this post confuses you. I'm a little lost myself.

Shuafat Refugee Camp

Yesterday I visited Shuafat Refugee Camp, which is just right next to the Student Village, where most of the guys of G-Town live. I'm not sure what I expected a refugee camp to look like, but I was both surprised and not surprised by what I saw.

First, we drove through the area of Shuafat, which is on the way to Ramallah, and then coasted past the checkpoint into the refugee camp. I find it interesting that there's no problem and no wait to get into the camp. It doesn't matter what you carry in there or who you have in the car with you. The Israeli guards really don't care. If you are under the Palestinian Authority, meaning you don't carry a blue identity card with you proving you are an Israeli citizen or a permanent resident of Israel, you can go in to the camp, but you can't leave. It makes me wonder how one got out in the first place.

Anyway, as soon as we drove into the camp, a little kid started banging the car with his fist as we tried to maneuver through the most narrow streets. There were three women in the car who were clearly foreigners. At first we thought maybe he was hitting the car because a woman was driving, but no, there are many women drivers in the camp. Then we were told he hit the car because he is "of the camp". I can't remember exactly what the term is, but basically, children "of the camp" are portrayed to be violent and impulsive. Probably, he was just trying to make a point that we didn't belong in the camp.

If there is a tension between Palestinians of the camp and Palestinians in the West Bank and Arab-Israelis and Palestinians as permanent residents of Israel, of course it makes sense that there would be some animosity towards anybody more different.

The camp itself was marked by a certain gloom. The streets were more like alleys, and they were dim and narrow. There was trash everywhere. There was colorful graffitti everywhere from Ramadan, from little children just drawing all over the walls, from G-Town and their supporters, from people who had returned from the Hajj, etc. The buildings from the outside looked dirty and run-down. The whole place seemed cramped and overcrowded.

However, when we went into two of the houses of two members in G-Town, the houses were large family complexes. They were beautiful inside with spacious courtyard areas, and multiple apartments. One of the members even had a tropical parrot gracing the foyer and what one might even consider a "boom boom room" for the band.

Another house had a balcony covered with grape vines overlooking the camp, and from the top, the camp seemed like any other city. It reminded me a lot of the Islamic tradition of private vs. public space where the outside of buildings and homes most often deceive the viewer to its true hidden treasures inside.

I was not surprised to see how dirty and cramped the camp seemed. But, maybe this is ignorant of me, but I was surprised to see how nice individual houses were inside the camp. Of course, just like Ramallah, the five-star prison, there is always a nagging feeling due to the lack of complete freedom because of the knowledge of the checkpoints just a few hundred meters away.

Unfortunately, we didn't get to visit the separation wall because for some reason, the band members didn't feel like walking around the camp. I did manage to get a few photos, but I felt like it wasn't really welcome by the residents of the camp.

Also, while I was bedridden during Yom Kippur, I was unaware of the riots that occurred in Acre just to the north. Apparently, after the riots broke out, East Jerusalem was on high alert, and there were some incidents of young Palestinian/Arab-Israeli children around the French Hill area who threw rocks at some of the dorms in the Student Village.

Everyday, I feel like I'm starting to really understand the seriousness of the conflict as it has become my reality. But at the same time, I can't really say that living in Israel is dangerous. Maybe volatile is a better word to describe the situation?

Like I wrote in a previous post, there is no intermixing in Jerusalem. The Jews and the Muslims around here seem to just ignore that the other exists or that the other is just like them.

There is no overt hostility, but there is no acknowledgement.

It is a tense peace based on a twisted sense of denial for self-preservation which to me just fosters a growing latent danger.

On our way out of the camp, we were stopped at the checkpoint. This checkpoint was different than the Ramallah checkpoint because instead of standing behind a bulletproof glass window, the soldiers are right in your face and so are their guns. I'm not sure which is worse. I guess it would depend on what kind of day you and the guard are each having.

The soldier asked to see our passports, and asked us why [the hell] were we in the refugee camp. We answered that we had friends in the camp. Yes, she heard us right. We have friends in the refugee camp, and no, not everyone whether he/she is Israeli or not is afraid to visit a refugee camp.



Check out this article that was in the New York Times. It talks about the Heartbeat of Jerusalem concert I went to and has a quote from one of the members of G-Town-Muhammad.

"Hello! Yes, please!": Gallivanting around Istanbul

I've just gotten back from a five day trip to Istanbul.

It is still the high holidays season, (Hag sameach!) so I've got another week to find new ways to entertain myself without getting a bad case of cabin fever again.

Istanbul

(with lots of photos!!)

Istanbul is filled with historical sites (think Aya Sofia, Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace) , hectic and crowded bazaars, jewel-like mosques and more kebab stands than one could even dream of, but it's also incredibly modern with a clean, convenient, cheap! and efficient tram system, colorful buildings, and spacious highways that are so refreshing after trying to navigate through cramped and winding streets.


We visited all the important historical sites in Istanbul and even had time for a short cruise down the Bosphorous and a visit to a Dali exhibition.

I was surprised more people didn't speak English, but many seemed to know some Spanish.

Food mostly consisted of lamb or kofte with bread or rice. I must have gained at least a good five pounds in the last five days, but I figure, all this protein will just have to last me until January because until then, I'll be living off of peanut butter jelly sandwiches again. It's really a good thing I like them so much.

Prices varied with your neighborhood hole-in-the-wall types serving hearty Turkish comfort food and the fancier restaurants lining the pier and bedazzling tourists with their bright lights and belly dancing entertainment.

The verdict is, everywhere we went, the food was good, and everywhere we went, the food tasted pretty much the same. Ultimately, we paid for ambience when we wanted it.


When I think of Istanbul, I think of the great Ottoman Empire, Suleyman the Magnificent , the Janissaries (A "Janissary guard" at the Topkapi Palace), luxurious hammams, Turkish delight and baklava, harem intrigue, and finally the Sick Man of Europe.


Having just visited, I best remember walking into the stained glass rooms of Topkapi Palace and imagining myself in the insides of the most precious jewelry boxes.


yes, I know. Pattern overload.


I fondly remember watching fishermen try their luck along the wharf and the bridges across the Bosphorous as the neighborhood cats gently rooted them on with plaintive purrs and gleaming eyes.


I remember gazing up at the dome of the Hagia Sofia and wondering how in the world I got so lucky.


I remember tagging along the English, Spanish or Korean speaking tour guides at the Blue Mosque while admiring the turquoise ocean blending into the bluest tiles lining the walls.

I remember trying to pronounce Turkish words to no avail and trying to remember when and when not to pronounce the "g" in words.

I also remember relaxing in the hammam and thinking how women just like me sat here naked like this 300 years ago in the very same place and bathed from the very same basins.

I thought this pot was pretty cool -the Ottomans had a huge collection of china that came through the Silk Road. The china that was sent to the Ottomans sometimes had little details like the crescent ornament to fit Islamic tastes.

The Hagia Sofia at night.

the Blue Mosque at night.
The Blue Mosque during the day. The two men standing next to me were also taking a photo. I decided to jump in with them.

Inside the Blue Mosque filled with many many tourists even in the off season.


In the Basilica Cistern was creepy and beautiful.


There were men selling roasted chestnuts everywhere, and the smell always reminded me of my mom because she loves to eat them.

Fountains and buildings on the grounds of Topkapi Palace:


And then we ventured into the harem, which was well worth the extra 15 lira.


The Grand Bazaar was less impressive than the Khan al-Khalili souk in Cairo. Just sayin'.

Suleyman the Magnificent's tomb


Again with the toy guns.

We were blessed with wonderful weather for most of our trip, but the day of our Bosphorous Cruise was pretty rainy and windy.

We were originally going to take a 6 hour cruise, but missed the boat because no one could understand what we were asking them. This turned out to be a good thing because we ended up finding a 2 hour cruise, and as soon as I stepped on the boat, I remembered that I get horribly sea-sick. Basically, it was a 2 hour nap for me, but I occasionally woke up to take some photos.

The entrance to Dolmbahce Palace that we passed by on our way to the Dali exhibit.

That's it for my travels in the Middle East for now. No more breaks after this. And more importantly, no more money.

Yes, Tif, here is your update :)

Today is the third day of my two and a half week long vacation after just three days of classes.

Okay, yes, I do have class on Sunday, but instead of sitting through my Guerrilla Warfare and Global Terrorism seminar, I'll be flying the skies toward Istanbul, Turkey.

I'd been mostly bedridden the past two days sick with my third case of strep throat this year, and I was starting to get severe cabin fever.

Another month, another trip to the emergency room. But don't be alarmed. The only reason why it's the emergency room is because the normal hospital hours are impossible to catch especially during high holidays season. The emergency room of Terem hospital in Jerusalem does not evoke in me any horror stories like American emergency rooms. It's actually quite pleasant. And both times I've been there, the emergency room looked hardly like an emergency room as there were barely any people waiting, and the service was quick and effective.

So after three days of extra strength Tylenol, antibiotics, two liters of clementine juice I thought suspiciously looked too tropical to be orange juice, one ramen split over three meals, and two haphazardly delirium-induced peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I feel like myself again.

Yesterday was the end of Yom Kippur, and I walked to the Old City to visit the Kotel. It was really beautiful with everyone wearing white. Some people were fully decked out in white garments down to their toes. I kid you not, I noticed several people wearing white crocs.

I didn't take any photos because I thought the scene would be better appreciated that way.

Then, I walked back towards the Muslim Quarter towards Al-Quds University where I saw another hip-hop performance by G-Town where this time, most of the crowd were young Palestinians.

There was also an art gallery exhibition, in the basement of the building, which I thought was the most interesting art gallery venue I'd been to since the architecture of thousands of years ago eerily housed pieces of modern art.

It's been a quiet week. And I have yet to write those scholarship essays.

I'm adding a few pictures that I didn't think were important enough to go up on my Egypt and Jordan traveling post, but take a look at them:


We perched ourselves on a bridge over the Nile in Cairo one night to witness midnight traffic. It's pretty mind-blowing, huh?


Our extremely uncomfortable toilet in Petra to match our hobbit hole room. There was no physical way to sit on that...the right way.

Could you imagine this in the States?



A special thanks to my friends who called or who listened and as always gave the kind of advice only true friends could give.