Had a funny even almost nostalgic moment today:
I was walking to class when I noticed a lone backpack on a bench outside of the school. I half expected it to explode while wondering where the bomb squad was.
Showing posts with label Jerusalem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jerusalem. Show all posts
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Back From Hiatus
Both having spent our college years in Boston, a conversation that often comes up between my cousin and me when I'm back home is how the weather in Los Angeles is almost too perfect.
Granted, I'm usually only back during the summer when L.A. is glimmering at its best.
Before any of you stuck in snow or bitter New England winds wonders why I don't shut up and stop complaining about good weather, hear me out.
Weather in Los Angeles is fantastic. Winters are chilly, but I've never had to whip out more than the occasional scarf, which I would wear more for fashion than for warmth. Earmuffs, gloves, Northface armor coats-all unnecessary. Plus, we've got those Santa Ana's.
Warm springs beckon hot summers, and the occasional shower ensures some green in the concrete mess of freeways. Summers are hot and dry, yes; and in the Valley, it's almost unbearable. But the days are tempered by the proximity of the beach, and the balmy nights make up for the scalding heat.
And autumn, my favorite season anywhere; fall in L.A. is marked by warm, windy days. Sure, we Angelinos don't get to enjoy the passing of time with rainbow foliage, but we also don't have to start dreading the cold either.
Los Angeles glows with sunshine.
But sometimes, all that sunshine seems to mock you when you're having a bad day. I like that Boston weather can reflect my feelings; torrential rains and howling wind when I'm pissed, and gloomy gray skies with the occasional flurry when I'm sad.
This year, I'm spared the New England winter, that bitter cold that every year makes me grumble how any human or living life form can survive in weather like it. It's the weather in which I have to remind myself "left, right, left, right..." while I walk to and from class as I bend my head forward against harsh gusts of wind.
This year, I missed the colorful leaves, but I breathed a sigh of relief that I would not have to trudge around in my Uggs, simultaneously wear three pairs of pants, or have to write a postage note on my window to remind myself that sunshine does not equal heat.
Instead, I spent last semester in Jerusalem where the weather was much like an extended summer for me until one day, in mid-December, someone somewhere must have snapped, and it just got cold.
This semester, I'm in the Costa de la Luz, in Cadiz, the city that boasts something like 350 days of sunshine. Luckily, it seems I've arrived during those 15 days without sunshine.
It's been about a week and a half since we've arrived in Cadiz and about two and a half weeks in Spain. I've written since three posts, two of which are not about Cadiz. Already, I spent a weekend away.
I remember writing towards the end of last semester on my reflections of culture shock. In that post, I wrote that I would probably initially feel unhappy in Cadiz just like I initially didn't like Jerusalem. In it, I wrote that I would remind myself to reread those posts and take it in stride.
But the difference is that even when I was unhappy in Jerusalem, I still had so much to write about and think about and talk about. I'm not unhappy here in Cadiz, but I'm bored. Apathy to me is far worse than extreme emotion whether it be hate or love. Life in Jerusalem was never easy, but it was always interesting.
How can I describe my feelings right now? I don't know if I can quite decipher them myself let alone articulate them in writing. I'm overwhelmed.
Cadiz is an incredibly underwhelming city. It was once a thriving port city, visited and inhabited by all kinds of historic folks, but these days, it's a sleepy beach town that's infamous for its February Carnaval debauchery. It's a mark on the map for a lovely day trip or a week-long siesta spent lounging and drinking on the beach at sunset.
Everything about Jerusalem was so extreme; when talking on the phone with my mom, I would often tell her that it was the hardest time I'd ever had being abroad. It was probably the best too. Life in Jerusalem was a semester of extreme highs and lows. I was never at peace; I was never idle. I don't think that anyone can completely understand Jerusalem or the conflict without living daily with the subtle yet omnipresent tensions surrounding and permeating every mentality, every simple decision made.
Cadiz is pleasant, and it is slow. Not only are faces becoming familiar, but the dogs are too. Problems are solved with a brusque "No te pasa nada", or as the Andalucians say, "No te pa na". And the closest thing to rioting would be the ensuing celebrations if Cadiz ever won a football match. The biggest news stories come from outside of Cadiz, which is quite a change from living under the global spotlight.
I brought up the weather because I can't adequately compare Jerusalem and Cadiz in terms of experience. There is no comparison-there is no better. Instead, let me compare the weather and point out the irony.
Jerusalem's weather was gorgeous. It was sunny. It was ideal. Yet, Jerusalem itself was not a happy city. Cadiz, on the other hand, is light and stress-free. Yet, the rain and the ocean winds have been relentless, and the sea boils and tosses angrily.
I get travel warnings that still come to me from the Hebrew University prohibiting students' travel to the Sinai Peninsula. I laugh as I reminisce about that bumpy midnight drive across the Sinai looking up out the window in the backseat wondering what Nicole was thinking, while now, I'm stuck under house arrest in Cadiz because of a hurricane warning.
"You have to be inspired to have passion." -TJ
I'm sorry I haven't been writing or updating. It was/is (reverse) culture shock. It was abrupt change. It was premature, unjust disappointment spawned from incomparable and irrelevant situations.
I needed to remember that inspiration can't always come easy. I need to rediscover my passion by finding inspiration in other places.
No more solitary brooding and futile nostalgia.
Not so quiet anymore, huh?
Granted, I'm usually only back during the summer when L.A. is glimmering at its best.
Before any of you stuck in snow or bitter New England winds wonders why I don't shut up and stop complaining about good weather, hear me out.
Weather in Los Angeles is fantastic. Winters are chilly, but I've never had to whip out more than the occasional scarf, which I would wear more for fashion than for warmth. Earmuffs, gloves, Northface armor coats-all unnecessary. Plus, we've got those Santa Ana's.
Warm springs beckon hot summers, and the occasional shower ensures some green in the concrete mess of freeways. Summers are hot and dry, yes; and in the Valley, it's almost unbearable. But the days are tempered by the proximity of the beach, and the balmy nights make up for the scalding heat.
And autumn, my favorite season anywhere; fall in L.A. is marked by warm, windy days. Sure, we Angelinos don't get to enjoy the passing of time with rainbow foliage, but we also don't have to start dreading the cold either.
Los Angeles glows with sunshine.
But sometimes, all that sunshine seems to mock you when you're having a bad day. I like that Boston weather can reflect my feelings; torrential rains and howling wind when I'm pissed, and gloomy gray skies with the occasional flurry when I'm sad.
This year, I'm spared the New England winter, that bitter cold that every year makes me grumble how any human or living life form can survive in weather like it. It's the weather in which I have to remind myself "left, right, left, right..." while I walk to and from class as I bend my head forward against harsh gusts of wind.
This year, I missed the colorful leaves, but I breathed a sigh of relief that I would not have to trudge around in my Uggs, simultaneously wear three pairs of pants, or have to write a postage note on my window to remind myself that sunshine does not equal heat.
Instead, I spent last semester in Jerusalem where the weather was much like an extended summer for me until one day, in mid-December, someone somewhere must have snapped, and it just got cold.
This semester, I'm in the Costa de la Luz, in Cadiz, the city that boasts something like 350 days of sunshine. Luckily, it seems I've arrived during those 15 days without sunshine.
It's been about a week and a half since we've arrived in Cadiz and about two and a half weeks in Spain. I've written since three posts, two of which are not about Cadiz. Already, I spent a weekend away.
I remember writing towards the end of last semester on my reflections of culture shock. In that post, I wrote that I would probably initially feel unhappy in Cadiz just like I initially didn't like Jerusalem. In it, I wrote that I would remind myself to reread those posts and take it in stride.
But the difference is that even when I was unhappy in Jerusalem, I still had so much to write about and think about and talk about. I'm not unhappy here in Cadiz, but I'm bored. Apathy to me is far worse than extreme emotion whether it be hate or love. Life in Jerusalem was never easy, but it was always interesting.
How can I describe my feelings right now? I don't know if I can quite decipher them myself let alone articulate them in writing. I'm overwhelmed.
Cadiz is an incredibly underwhelming city. It was once a thriving port city, visited and inhabited by all kinds of historic folks, but these days, it's a sleepy beach town that's infamous for its February Carnaval debauchery. It's a mark on the map for a lovely day trip or a week-long siesta spent lounging and drinking on the beach at sunset.
Everything about Jerusalem was so extreme; when talking on the phone with my mom, I would often tell her that it was the hardest time I'd ever had being abroad. It was probably the best too. Life in Jerusalem was a semester of extreme highs and lows. I was never at peace; I was never idle. I don't think that anyone can completely understand Jerusalem or the conflict without living daily with the subtle yet omnipresent tensions surrounding and permeating every mentality, every simple decision made.
Cadiz is pleasant, and it is slow. Not only are faces becoming familiar, but the dogs are too. Problems are solved with a brusque "No te pasa nada", or as the Andalucians say, "No te pa na". And the closest thing to rioting would be the ensuing celebrations if Cadiz ever won a football match. The biggest news stories come from outside of Cadiz, which is quite a change from living under the global spotlight.
I brought up the weather because I can't adequately compare Jerusalem and Cadiz in terms of experience. There is no comparison-there is no better. Instead, let me compare the weather and point out the irony.
Jerusalem's weather was gorgeous. It was sunny. It was ideal. Yet, Jerusalem itself was not a happy city. Cadiz, on the other hand, is light and stress-free. Yet, the rain and the ocean winds have been relentless, and the sea boils and tosses angrily.
I get travel warnings that still come to me from the Hebrew University prohibiting students' travel to the Sinai Peninsula. I laugh as I reminisce about that bumpy midnight drive across the Sinai looking up out the window in the backseat wondering what Nicole was thinking, while now, I'm stuck under house arrest in Cadiz because of a hurricane warning.
"You have to be inspired to have passion." -TJ
I'm sorry I haven't been writing or updating. It was/is (reverse) culture shock. It was abrupt change. It was premature, unjust disappointment spawned from incomparable and irrelevant situations.
I needed to remember that inspiration can't always come easy. I need to rediscover my passion by finding inspiration in other places.
No more solitary brooding and futile nostalgia.
Not so quiet anymore, huh?
Friday, November 28, 2008
"Studying" Abroad
How much studying actually goes on when one is studying abroad?
It's 11:45 pm on a Friday night here in Jerusalem (the equivalent of a Saturday night in the States), and I decided to stay in tonight because a) I'm running low on cash b) it's really cold outside, and the rain might pick up again, and c) I thought I could start on my 30-page paper due in a month.
Needless to say, it's Friday, and I'm in no mood to sit here hunched over my desk researching about Israel's role in the Iran Contra Affair. I spent most of the evening at my friend's apartment for our ritual Shabbat dinner and then commiserated over the amount of work piling up on our desks and how little motivation there is to do any of it.
Now, I'm sitting at my desk with five books on Reagan sprawled open to unseeing eyes, a few tattered pages with scrawled notes, and a pen behind my ear while I opt to update my blog instead.
Studying abroad is generally understood by most college students as "break time", and the classes a joke, if you will.
Back home, I will hardly ever show up to class without reading the assignment, and God forbid I skip class. Here, I'm more lax about the readings; here, the weekends are not stressful extensions of the week; and here, I'll skip class every so often without feeling guilty if something else comes up. Of course this is all to a certain extent since I'm still paying to attend the university.
Studying abroad is so unique because as much as one's home university would hope, the focus is not on what is being learned in the classroom or from the books. It is time for the student to explore a different culture, society, lifestyle that she may not be familiar with or agree with. It's time for the student to have as many encounters with as many new people as possible. It's time for him to share as many experiences and stories while listening to others' perspectives and opinions on shared and personal experiences. It's time for her to travel and discover new likes and dislikes in music, food, etc. and challenge herself in unfamiliar situations. It's time for him to observe and to reflect.
Initially, it's difficult to be so far from home, family and friends. It's frustrating to not be able to communicate with people because you might not know the language. It's hard to integrate yourself into the society and to adopt new cultural norms. And it's unnerving to have your perspective challenged by new experiences and other points of view. (Just look at my earlier posts for goodness sake.)
But ultimately, study abroad is so gratifying because the place you stay becomes home. After just even a month, you can start to read signs as if they were in your native tongue and understand conversations on the bus. You embrace foreign customs like Shabbat dinner and incorporate them into your own traditions. And it's still difficult, but you learn the most when you can explain your point of view while understanding someone else's to deconstruct and then reconstruct a stronger argument.
It's for moments when I find myself sitting around arguing with Israeli and non-Israeli friends about subjects ranging from relationships to the situation in Gaza that I wanted to study abroad. It's the times I wander around the old city of Jerusalem and perch on a bench to people-watch downtown that I'm the happiest and learn the most.
So even though I'm not always cracking open the books like I would at Wellesley, I'm learning priceless knowledge that may be completely worthless or completely invaluable. It is "break time" in that there is less stress and urgency in the academic sense. Yes, some classes are a joke, but this is really dependent upon your professor. Irregardless, during the past few months, I've learned more about Israel, about Palestine, about myself, about people than I ever expected, and this experience studying abroad will have a lasting legacy in my life.
I'm sorry if this post sounds trite-the end of the semester is nearing, and nostalgia for my life in Jerusalem is already beginning. (I can already anticipate having to tell myself to read this post next semester when I'm again in a new location to remind myself that in the end, I won't want to leave.)
It's now 1:18 am. I should probably start that paper.
Photos from this morning's field trip to the Christian sites along the Via Dolorosa in the Old City:
The sheep pools where supposedly Jesus healed people.
A very well preserved church from the age of the Crusaders.
Old city views and the narrow streets along the Via Dolorosa in the Muslim quarter. 
It's 11:45 pm on a Friday night here in Jerusalem (the equivalent of a Saturday night in the States), and I decided to stay in tonight because a) I'm running low on cash b) it's really cold outside, and the rain might pick up again, and c) I thought I could start on my 30-page paper due in a month.
Needless to say, it's Friday, and I'm in no mood to sit here hunched over my desk researching about Israel's role in the Iran Contra Affair. I spent most of the evening at my friend's apartment for our ritual Shabbat dinner and then commiserated over the amount of work piling up on our desks and how little motivation there is to do any of it.
Now, I'm sitting at my desk with five books on Reagan sprawled open to unseeing eyes, a few tattered pages with scrawled notes, and a pen behind my ear while I opt to update my blog instead.
Studying abroad is generally understood by most college students as "break time", and the classes a joke, if you will.
Back home, I will hardly ever show up to class without reading the assignment, and God forbid I skip class. Here, I'm more lax about the readings; here, the weekends are not stressful extensions of the week; and here, I'll skip class every so often without feeling guilty if something else comes up. Of course this is all to a certain extent since I'm still paying to attend the university.
Studying abroad is so unique because as much as one's home university would hope, the focus is not on what is being learned in the classroom or from the books. It is time for the student to explore a different culture, society, lifestyle that she may not be familiar with or agree with. It's time for the student to have as many encounters with as many new people as possible. It's time for him to share as many experiences and stories while listening to others' perspectives and opinions on shared and personal experiences. It's time for her to travel and discover new likes and dislikes in music, food, etc. and challenge herself in unfamiliar situations. It's time for him to observe and to reflect.
Initially, it's difficult to be so far from home, family and friends. It's frustrating to not be able to communicate with people because you might not know the language. It's hard to integrate yourself into the society and to adopt new cultural norms. And it's unnerving to have your perspective challenged by new experiences and other points of view. (Just look at my earlier posts for goodness sake.)
But ultimately, study abroad is so gratifying because the place you stay becomes home. After just even a month, you can start to read signs as if they were in your native tongue and understand conversations on the bus. You embrace foreign customs like Shabbat dinner and incorporate them into your own traditions. And it's still difficult, but you learn the most when you can explain your point of view while understanding someone else's to deconstruct and then reconstruct a stronger argument.
It's for moments when I find myself sitting around arguing with Israeli and non-Israeli friends about subjects ranging from relationships to the situation in Gaza that I wanted to study abroad. It's the times I wander around the old city of Jerusalem and perch on a bench to people-watch downtown that I'm the happiest and learn the most.
So even though I'm not always cracking open the books like I would at Wellesley, I'm learning priceless knowledge that may be completely worthless or completely invaluable. It is "break time" in that there is less stress and urgency in the academic sense. Yes, some classes are a joke, but this is really dependent upon your professor. Irregardless, during the past few months, I've learned more about Israel, about Palestine, about myself, about people than I ever expected, and this experience studying abroad will have a lasting legacy in my life.
I'm sorry if this post sounds trite-the end of the semester is nearing, and nostalgia for my life in Jerusalem is already beginning. (I can already anticipate having to tell myself to read this post next semester when I'm again in a new location to remind myself that in the end, I won't want to leave.)
It's now 1:18 am. I should probably start that paper.
Photos from this morning's field trip to the Christian sites along the Via Dolorosa in the Old City:
The sheep pools where supposedly Jesus healed people.
A very well preserved church from the age of the Crusaders.
Old city views and the narrow streets along the Via Dolorosa in the Muslim quarter. 
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving in Jerusalem
Although it's hard to be away from home as the holiday season kicks off with my favorite holiday of the year, I'm thankful for everything right now, just the way it is.
A few of my friends including myself were starting to feel homesick as our friends back in the states head home, so we decided that despite the inconveniences of not having a large oven or all those appliances and random spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, etc.) that accumulate over time in our cabinets at home, and that we take for granted, we would have a home-cooked meal for Thanksgiving with no essential dish spared.
We had stuffing, a roasted chicken, garlic & dill potatoes, roasted onions, jelly cranberry sauce retaining its canned figure, pan-seared tuna, strawberry & mango salad, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, and even a pumpkin pie to grace our table.
I was not looking forward to making the pumpkin pie, but Thanksgiving is just really not Thanksgiving without a pumpkin pie. So I bought some butternut squash (I couldn't find pumpkins in the shouk!) and spent two days wondering how I would steam them and then puree them without a steamer or a blender.
Thankfully, Jerusalem supermarkets are more accommodating to the Americans living in Jerusalem than I had anticipated (since the costume turn-out on Halloween was pretty disappointing). I spied the last two cans of canned pumpkin hidden on the top-shelf and triumphantly returned home to the large squashes awaiting their fate on the dining room table. They would have to wait another day.
Despite having to substitute a pie crust with filo dough and evaporated milk with extra condensed milk, the pie turned out pretty well.
All in all, Thanksgiving tonight was really wonderful, and I feel genuinely lucky that I got to spend it in Israel.
I hope everyone both abroad and at home had a great Thanksgiving!
A few of my friends including myself were starting to feel homesick as our friends back in the states head home, so we decided that despite the inconveniences of not having a large oven or all those appliances and random spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, etc.) that accumulate over time in our cabinets at home, and that we take for granted, we would have a home-cooked meal for Thanksgiving with no essential dish spared.
We had stuffing, a roasted chicken, garlic & dill potatoes, roasted onions, jelly cranberry sauce retaining its canned figure, pan-seared tuna, strawberry & mango salad, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, and even a pumpkin pie to grace our table.
I was not looking forward to making the pumpkin pie, but Thanksgiving is just really not Thanksgiving without a pumpkin pie. So I bought some butternut squash (I couldn't find pumpkins in the shouk!) and spent two days wondering how I would steam them and then puree them without a steamer or a blender.
Thankfully, Jerusalem supermarkets are more accommodating to the Americans living in Jerusalem than I had anticipated (since the costume turn-out on Halloween was pretty disappointing). I spied the last two cans of canned pumpkin hidden on the top-shelf and triumphantly returned home to the large squashes awaiting their fate on the dining room table. They would have to wait another day.
Despite having to substitute a pie crust with filo dough and evaporated milk with extra condensed milk, the pie turned out pretty well.
All in all, Thanksgiving tonight was really wonderful, and I feel genuinely lucky that I got to spend it in Israel.
I hope everyone both abroad and at home had a great Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
The Israeli Fatalism
Yesterday, I got to catch up with a friend I hadn't spoken with in months, and as I was regaling her with tales about life in Jerusalem, she asked a very interesting question that I think I've danced around in previous posts but haven't ever directly addressed before.
I described to her daily scenes that are almost mediocre in a typical Israeli's life, such as the stopping of traffic for the blowing up of suspicious packages, people toting guns up and down the streets as if it were the most normal thing, and soldiers patrolling the Old city streets.
She then asked me that with all the conflict surrounding Jerusalem, if there is a sense of fatalism that permeates the attitudes of the residents here.
This idea of fatalism is very interesting in the context of Israel. The philosophy of fatalism to me implies an almost defeatist attitude because it is being resigned to fate. I understand how any non-Israeli would think this way about Israel. The omnipresence of metal detectors, checkpoints and security guards are frequent reminders of the potential for dangerous situations to arise at any moment. And the media is a constant barrage of images around the conflict.
Like my tour guide in the Golan said: life is hard in Israel because the people here are perpetually reminded that they have to fight to exist on this land, but that's just the way it is. Life moves on.
I would say that Israelis accept that they must fight to survive, but I do not believe that they are resigned to this fact. Rather, it is a sense of incredible nationalism and pride instilled since birth and reinforced with three years in the military that drives this unquestionable sacrifice for their country. Death is but a small part of life, and they will fight to live even if it means they might die.
It seems that while Israel is fated to fight many more battles before attaining the chimera of peace, Israelis are hardly succumbing to others to predetermine its fate.
Most Israelis I've talked to are jaded by the idea of compromise and peace any time soon. In fact, Arab-Israelis and Palestinians are also disenchanted by the prospects of peace within their own government as well as in Israel. Like I've said before, it has become a zero-sum game. Terrorists and extremists on both sides continuously doom any hopes for peace.
Israelis seem to think it is fate that Israel will always be antagonized by the surrounding Arab and/or Muslim countries, but they will not surrender without a tough fight. And as history has proven, they sure can hold their own for such a tiny country.
I described to her daily scenes that are almost mediocre in a typical Israeli's life, such as the stopping of traffic for the blowing up of suspicious packages, people toting guns up and down the streets as if it were the most normal thing, and soldiers patrolling the Old city streets.
She then asked me that with all the conflict surrounding Jerusalem, if there is a sense of fatalism that permeates the attitudes of the residents here.
This idea of fatalism is very interesting in the context of Israel. The philosophy of fatalism to me implies an almost defeatist attitude because it is being resigned to fate. I understand how any non-Israeli would think this way about Israel. The omnipresence of metal detectors, checkpoints and security guards are frequent reminders of the potential for dangerous situations to arise at any moment. And the media is a constant barrage of images around the conflict.
Like my tour guide in the Golan said: life is hard in Israel because the people here are perpetually reminded that they have to fight to exist on this land, but that's just the way it is. Life moves on.
I would say that Israelis accept that they must fight to survive, but I do not believe that they are resigned to this fact. Rather, it is a sense of incredible nationalism and pride instilled since birth and reinforced with three years in the military that drives this unquestionable sacrifice for their country. Death is but a small part of life, and they will fight to live even if it means they might die.
It seems that while Israel is fated to fight many more battles before attaining the chimera of peace, Israelis are hardly succumbing to others to predetermine its fate.
Most Israelis I've talked to are jaded by the idea of compromise and peace any time soon. In fact, Arab-Israelis and Palestinians are also disenchanted by the prospects of peace within their own government as well as in Israel. Like I've said before, it has become a zero-sum game. Terrorists and extremists on both sides continuously doom any hopes for peace.
Israelis seem to think it is fate that Israel will always be antagonized by the surrounding Arab and/or Muslim countries, but they will not surrender without a tough fight. And as history has proven, they sure can hold their own for such a tiny country.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Friday, October 10, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Being "the other" and understanding the other "other"
edit: My computer froze last night (per usual) as I was writing this post:
What a strange day.
I'm so tired right now, but if I don't write this out tonight, I'll regret it come tomorrow morning.
So much has happened since the last time I've written...where do I even begin to begin?
For starters, I've just posted an article from Reuters about tonight's "attack" in Jerusalem-I'm trying to figure out why they've put quotes around the word, and I guess it's because no terrorist group was behind the act, and no civilians or victims were killed (yet). Only one casualty, and it was the driver of the vehicle.
The police claim it was indeed an act of terrorism, and I believe this is because terrorism is defined as an act of desperation to incite fear amongst civilians. I was driving back from an Ulpan graduation party at my teacher's house, and we were downtown right next to the Old City when this happened. All of a sudden we heard police and ambulance sirens closing in on the city, and we saw people running towards the scene. There were several different accounts of what had just happened; when we asked the people on the street, they said there were gunshots, while the radio announcer said it was another tractor/bulldozer incident by the Damascus Gate.
I was taken aback by how casually Israelis seemed to react to this incident. One Israeli I met simply said, "Welcome to Israel" and when I asked my Israeli friend if he'd heard what happened, he just sighed and said that things like this were a fact of life in Israel. And that was it. The "attack" hasn't been mentioned again since.
Last night, I went to a concert put on by an MTV-Fulbright scholar who brought together Palestinian and Israeli musicians along with a Palestinian and Israeli youth music group Heart of Jerusalem to perform at the Jerusalem YMCA. The first artists were from the group White Flag; the group is made up of 3 Palestinians from Gaza and 3 Israelis. Because sometimes (like last night) half the group from Gaza can't get through the checkpoints on time or ever, the group's self-proclaimed motto is, "the show must go on". They sang in both Hebrew and Arabic.
The hip-hop group G-Town that my internship researcher is focusing on also performed last night.
They were good live, although I think they felt a little awkward at first because the crowd was quiet and seated-really not your typical hip-hop concert with a loud, excited crowd, arm waving, and head bobbing.
The crowd was mixed with mostly older parents there to watch their children perform in the youth group, younger Israeli groupie types of the band, the Sulhita project, and the G-Town posse dressed in western hip-hop gear with printed NY and LA wide-brimmed hats, baggy jeans, stylish Kanye hoodies and kicks.
After the concert, the other intern, the researcher and I went to go meet the members of G-Town, and I felt like such a groupie waiting for the group after the show! We hung out and talked with two of the members of G-Town in a nearby playground until late into the night.
It was a really interesting experience to hear first-hand a Palestinian's experience in Jerusalem. The members of the group live in the Shuafat Refugee Camp, which is actually just north of French Hill.
One of the members told us that he is studying film and television in a school in a nearby settlement. I asked him if that meant that most of his classmates were Israeli Jews, and he immediately responded that he didn't have a problem with Israelis or Jews, but he definitely affirmed that he did not like Israeli settlers. He told us how in class the Israelis never spoke with the Palestinians even though the classes are very small. He said that he doesn't even get acknowledged so much with a greeting or a smile.
I found out that there are separate schools for Jewish students and Palestinians students although there are a few schools like Hand-in-Hand that have both Israeli and Palestinian students and teach in both Hebrew and Arabic. Unfortunately, from the get-go, there is no intermixing. The children are segregated by the education system, and it seems that the approach to a peaceful coexistence is set up to fail.
Even in local Jerusalem parks, both Israeli Jews and Palestinian parents bring their children to play although the parents never talk to each other and the kids don't play with each other; they just share the same space.
This is when I realized that most of the people here cohabitate without coexisting.
There is only a feeble coexistence because in each own struggle to affirm the right to live, each must ignore "the other"'s right to live. The system is understood by many as a zero-sum game, and unfortunately someone has to lose.
We talked about the checkpoints and how tedious and humiliating they can be. Then he told us a story from his childhood when he was stuck with his family in the car at a checkpoint for several hours. When they finally got through, someone shot at the car, and the car with his whole family flipped over. They were all in the hospital for days. He doesn't know why the soldiers shot at his car. The bizarre thing is, he told us that until the age of fifteen, he had never met an Israeli who was not an IDF soldier with a gun. For most of his childhood, he confessed that he was afraid of Israelis, and this fear generates resentment, and that leads to hate.
It's interesting that from both sides, there are mutual constructs of "the other" that start from childhood. While Israeli Jewish children, especially those who grew up during the second intifada, imagine Palestinians as terrorists, Palestinian children imagine Israelis as intimidating soldiers with guns.
Both imagine the other as a violent oppressor.
Then, in another interesting turn of events, I went to the settlement of Efrat tonight to my Ulpan teacher's house with the rest of my Ulpan class to celebrate the end of summer Ulpan. I was in the Muslim quarter all afternoon buying Turkish delight and trying Knafeh while trying to find a way into al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock (unsuccessful).
I ended up walking to the central bus station with two friends, when I was stopped by a plainclothes policeman just between the Damascus gate and the Jaffa gate. He only stopped me. He aggressively told me to show him my passport. I was skeptical at first as to his identity as a policeman, but a nearby police vehicle with another policeman nodding along convinced me.
Obviously I don't carry such an important document with me everywhere, so I told him that I didn't have my passport in English. He started getting angry and told me that I was a tourist so therefore I must have a passport. I was flustered and so angry, but I managed to tell him in Hebrew that I was a student at the Hebrew University. As soon as he heard the Hebrew, he broke out into a smile and let me go as my friends watched. I was so humiliated again that I was the only one stopped because I was clearly not Jewish. I was so angry by his blatant discrimination. It made me so upset, and I couldn't understand how Palestinians could deal with this treatment on a daily basis. I thought, fuck this place. I would never send my children here.
The bus ride to Efrat was interesting. I saw the separation barrier up close, and the bus was built like a tank with small bulletproof windows to shield against snipers. I also noticed that the walls were not continuous, and a friend explained that this was so that if a driver is shot at while on the highway, he/she could stop behind the walled sections as protection from the sniper. What a life, huh?
Then, on the way back from dinner, the "attack" happened. And it made me re-evaluate my reaction earlier about discrimination. While nothing justifies rude treatment, I realize that here, discrimination equals survival. It certainly doesn't justify discrimination, but it is understandable.
How can they distinguish between the terrorist and the non-terrorist?
They have to do these random checks as humiliating and rude as they may seem to the person being checked. The checkpoints too are horrible, but an Israeli friend of mine who worked at a checkpoint in Gaza told me how they found bombs daily. How could they not have these tedious checkpoints when innocent people's lives were at stake?
I talked to my roommate after I got home, and I was pretty shaken up. I could still hear and see the sirens for a while outside my window. She told me that she had no sympathy for terrorists. She said that attacks on civilians were not justified by anything. If it were up to those individuals, they probably would change the system if they could.
I agree that most people would not condone maltreatment of others without just cause; however, the problem is, is defending against terrorism by a few radical individuals just cause for humiliation and discrimination against the whole group of people?
What a strange day.
I'm so tired right now, but if I don't write this out tonight, I'll regret it come tomorrow morning.
So much has happened since the last time I've written...where do I even begin to begin?
For starters, I've just posted an article from Reuters about tonight's "attack" in Jerusalem-I'm trying to figure out why they've put quotes around the word, and I guess it's because no terrorist group was behind the act, and no civilians or victims were killed (yet). Only one casualty, and it was the driver of the vehicle.
The police claim it was indeed an act of terrorism, and I believe this is because terrorism is defined as an act of desperation to incite fear amongst civilians. I was driving back from an Ulpan graduation party at my teacher's house, and we were downtown right next to the Old City when this happened. All of a sudden we heard police and ambulance sirens closing in on the city, and we saw people running towards the scene. There were several different accounts of what had just happened; when we asked the people on the street, they said there were gunshots, while the radio announcer said it was another tractor/bulldozer incident by the Damascus Gate.
I was taken aback by how casually Israelis seemed to react to this incident. One Israeli I met simply said, "Welcome to Israel" and when I asked my Israeli friend if he'd heard what happened, he just sighed and said that things like this were a fact of life in Israel. And that was it. The "attack" hasn't been mentioned again since.
Last night, I went to a concert put on by an MTV-Fulbright scholar who brought together Palestinian and Israeli musicians along with a Palestinian and Israeli youth music group Heart of Jerusalem to perform at the Jerusalem YMCA. The first artists were from the group White Flag; the group is made up of 3 Palestinians from Gaza and 3 Israelis. Because sometimes (like last night) half the group from Gaza can't get through the checkpoints on time or ever, the group's self-proclaimed motto is, "the show must go on". They sang in both Hebrew and Arabic.The hip-hop group G-Town that my internship researcher is focusing on also performed last night.
They were good live, although I think they felt a little awkward at first because the crowd was quiet and seated-really not your typical hip-hop concert with a loud, excited crowd, arm waving, and head bobbing.The crowd was mixed with mostly older parents there to watch their children perform in the youth group, younger Israeli groupie types of the band, the Sulhita project, and the G-Town posse dressed in western hip-hop gear with printed NY and LA wide-brimmed hats, baggy jeans, stylish Kanye hoodies and kicks.
After the concert, the other intern, the researcher and I went to go meet the members of G-Town, and I felt like such a groupie waiting for the group after the show! We hung out and talked with two of the members of G-Town in a nearby playground until late into the night.
It was a really interesting experience to hear first-hand a Palestinian's experience in Jerusalem. The members of the group live in the Shuafat Refugee Camp, which is actually just north of French Hill.
One of the members told us that he is studying film and television in a school in a nearby settlement. I asked him if that meant that most of his classmates were Israeli Jews, and he immediately responded that he didn't have a problem with Israelis or Jews, but he definitely affirmed that he did not like Israeli settlers. He told us how in class the Israelis never spoke with the Palestinians even though the classes are very small. He said that he doesn't even get acknowledged so much with a greeting or a smile.
I found out that there are separate schools for Jewish students and Palestinians students although there are a few schools like Hand-in-Hand that have both Israeli and Palestinian students and teach in both Hebrew and Arabic. Unfortunately, from the get-go, there is no intermixing. The children are segregated by the education system, and it seems that the approach to a peaceful coexistence is set up to fail.
Even in local Jerusalem parks, both Israeli Jews and Palestinian parents bring their children to play although the parents never talk to each other and the kids don't play with each other; they just share the same space.
This is when I realized that most of the people here cohabitate without coexisting.
There is only a feeble coexistence because in each own struggle to affirm the right to live, each must ignore "the other"'s right to live. The system is understood by many as a zero-sum game, and unfortunately someone has to lose.
We talked about the checkpoints and how tedious and humiliating they can be. Then he told us a story from his childhood when he was stuck with his family in the car at a checkpoint for several hours. When they finally got through, someone shot at the car, and the car with his whole family flipped over. They were all in the hospital for days. He doesn't know why the soldiers shot at his car. The bizarre thing is, he told us that until the age of fifteen, he had never met an Israeli who was not an IDF soldier with a gun. For most of his childhood, he confessed that he was afraid of Israelis, and this fear generates resentment, and that leads to hate.
It's interesting that from both sides, there are mutual constructs of "the other" that start from childhood. While Israeli Jewish children, especially those who grew up during the second intifada, imagine Palestinians as terrorists, Palestinian children imagine Israelis as intimidating soldiers with guns.
Both imagine the other as a violent oppressor.
Then, in another interesting turn of events, I went to the settlement of Efrat tonight to my Ulpan teacher's house with the rest of my Ulpan class to celebrate the end of summer Ulpan. I was in the Muslim quarter all afternoon buying Turkish delight and trying Knafeh while trying to find a way into al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock (unsuccessful).
I ended up walking to the central bus station with two friends, when I was stopped by a plainclothes policeman just between the Damascus gate and the Jaffa gate. He only stopped me. He aggressively told me to show him my passport. I was skeptical at first as to his identity as a policeman, but a nearby police vehicle with another policeman nodding along convinced me.
Obviously I don't carry such an important document with me everywhere, so I told him that I didn't have my passport in English. He started getting angry and told me that I was a tourist so therefore I must have a passport. I was flustered and so angry, but I managed to tell him in Hebrew that I was a student at the Hebrew University. As soon as he heard the Hebrew, he broke out into a smile and let me go as my friends watched. I was so humiliated again that I was the only one stopped because I was clearly not Jewish. I was so angry by his blatant discrimination. It made me so upset, and I couldn't understand how Palestinians could deal with this treatment on a daily basis. I thought, fuck this place. I would never send my children here.
The bus ride to Efrat was interesting. I saw the separation barrier up close, and the bus was built like a tank with small bulletproof windows to shield against snipers. I also noticed that the walls were not continuous, and a friend explained that this was so that if a driver is shot at while on the highway, he/she could stop behind the walled sections as protection from the sniper. What a life, huh?
Then, on the way back from dinner, the "attack" happened. And it made me re-evaluate my reaction earlier about discrimination. While nothing justifies rude treatment, I realize that here, discrimination equals survival. It certainly doesn't justify discrimination, but it is understandable.
How can they distinguish between the terrorist and the non-terrorist?
They have to do these random checks as humiliating and rude as they may seem to the person being checked. The checkpoints too are horrible, but an Israeli friend of mine who worked at a checkpoint in Gaza told me how they found bombs daily. How could they not have these tedious checkpoints when innocent people's lives were at stake?
I talked to my roommate after I got home, and I was pretty shaken up. I could still hear and see the sirens for a while outside my window. She told me that she had no sympathy for terrorists. She said that attacks on civilians were not justified by anything. If it were up to those individuals, they probably would change the system if they could.
I agree that most people would not condone maltreatment of others without just cause; however, the problem is, is defending against terrorism by a few radical individuals just cause for humiliation and discrimination against the whole group of people?
Jerusalem Driver Wounds 19 In "Attack": Police
Filed at 5:43 p.m. ET
JERUSALEM (Reuters) - A car slammed into a crowd in central Jerusalem late on Monday, injuring 19 people, nearly all of them Israeli soldiers, in what police described as a "terrorist" attack.
An Israeli soldier and then a policeman fired at the Arab driver, killing him, a police spokesman said.
The driver was still lying in the road an hour after being shot.
The incident came just three hours after Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni was handed the daunting task of forming a new government and revived memories of two previous attacks by Palestinians in vehicles in the city in the past few months.
Police spokesman Micky Rosenfeld said a number of soldiers had been standing on a pavement and were struck by the car as it careered into them -- deliberately in the view of witnesses.
Jerusalem police chief Aharon Franco said almost all the injured were soldiers. Two were seriously hurt, medics said.
The black car, its windows shattered, halted when it slammed into a Roman Catholic religious building opposite the walls of Jerusalem's Old City on a road that marks the dividing line between Arab East Jerusalem and the Jewish west.
Two of 19 people struck by the car were seriously injured, a spokesman for the Magen David Adom ambulance service said of the incident at Kikar Tzahal -- Israel Defence Forces Square.
"A man in a vehicle struck a number of people in Kikar Tzahal," police spokesman Rosenfeld said. "We can confirm it was a terror attack. The man was shot and killed."
The attack bore similarities to two previous incidents in Jerusalem this summer when Palestinians driving construction vehicles attacked Israelis. In July, a digger driver killed three people and wounded dozens, while more than a dozen people were wounded in a similar incident three weeks later.
(Editing by Tim Pearce)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Run with me
The hills around here are killer!
Here is the view right outside of the Student Village where I live. To the left is the path I walk towards the University and the blue curved roofed building is the over-priced gym.
So, I could pay for an expensive gym membership card that I would rarely use because I hate gyms (I feel like I might as well turn into a hamster and run in one of those crazy yellow wheels), I run around the French Hill and take in the sights, the car honks, the exhaust fumes, the great sunsets that could rival those of Los Angeles, the smell of falafels at the two stands nearby, the other intrepid runners looking like we all could pass out any minute now, the loud Arabic techno blasting from every other car, and of course the most wonderful views of Jerusalem from atop Mount Scopus.
Here is photo documentation of one of the routes I like to take at sunset if I can wake up early enough from my ritual afternoon recovery snooze from 8:30am Ulpan.
When I get to the bottom of the hill from the Student Village, I turn left towards the University and start my uphill climb. This is the view I get to my right:
That part is relatively easy since it's the only flat part of my run.
run run run towards the Mount of Olives:
More uphill running...and still some very pretty views:
And the final and most strenuous leg of my ascent:
almost there...
I get to the top of this hill which is marked by the end of the road in the previous picture with the tunnel (where to the right is the Mormon University-BYU), and I'm panting and sweaty and ready to keel over, but when I turn around, I get my reward:
I stay and stretch for a few minutes, and then I congratulate myself each time for not passing out earlier.
Then I'm off again. And this time, I get this view the whole way down:
I'm really loving this city.
Here is the view right outside of the Student Village where I live. To the left is the path I walk towards the University and the blue curved roofed building is the over-priced gym.
So, I could pay for an expensive gym membership card that I would rarely use because I hate gyms (I feel like I might as well turn into a hamster and run in one of those crazy yellow wheels), I run around the French Hill and take in the sights, the car honks, the exhaust fumes, the great sunsets that could rival those of Los Angeles, the smell of falafels at the two stands nearby, the other intrepid runners looking like we all could pass out any minute now, the loud Arabic techno blasting from every other car, and of course the most wonderful views of Jerusalem from atop Mount Scopus.
Here is photo documentation of one of the routes I like to take at sunset if I can wake up early enough from my ritual afternoon recovery snooze from 8:30am Ulpan.
When I get to the bottom of the hill from the Student Village, I turn left towards the University and start my uphill climb. This is the view I get to my right:
That part is relatively easy since it's the only flat part of my run.run run run towards the Mount of Olives:
More uphill running...and still some very pretty views:
And the final and most strenuous leg of my ascent:
almost there...
I get to the top of this hill which is marked by the end of the road in the previous picture with the tunnel (where to the right is the Mormon University-BYU), and I'm panting and sweaty and ready to keel over, but when I turn around, I get my reward:
I stay and stretch for a few minutes, and then I congratulate myself each time for not passing out earlier.
Then I'm off again. And this time, I get this view the whole way down:
I'm really loving this city.
Friday, September 5, 2008
"It is good to die for one's country"
A few days ago, on my walk back from Ulpan to the dormitories for my ritual afternoon nap, I was stopped on the sidewalk by a policeman telling me I couldn't continue down the street. He told me and my friend to wait at the end of the street because there was a suspicious object underneath the seat of the bus stop. As we grumbled back to the way we'd come from, a soldier in SWAT gear came running past us carrying bomb equipment.
Here, in Israel, if you leave your bag anywhere, consider it a goner. I'd seen this in the movies, but forgot that this actually was a daily occurrence here in Israel. All those strange contained exploding sounds I hear every day from my open window finally made sense. While we waited for the explosion, we joked that in Israel, instead of telling my teacher that my dog at my homework, I could say the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) blew up my homework.
In retrospect, this could have not just been a false alarm. The bag could have actually had something dangerous in it, and this is the reality that Israelis live with every day. It was a strange experience to see how seriously the Israeli policemen took their duty to neutralize the bomb threat situation and how nonchalant and normal the locals acted toward this almost daily "nuisance".
During my weekend in the Golan Heights and the upper Galilee, we took a hike around the Tel Hai area on the way to the swimming pool at the local kibbutz. We stopped by the Roaring Lion Monument, which is a famous memorial of the Battle of Tel Hai to eight Jewish men and women who died in one of the earliest battles between Jews and Arabs. The site www.gemsinisrael.com explains:
"If the brave pioneers at the beginning of the last century had not had the fortitude to withstand the hardships of the day, the Galilee as we know it today, would never have become part of modern day Israel. "
On the monument, Trumpeldor (one of the eight Jews who died in the battle) is quoted, "It is good to die for one's country".
Then, a little further outside the monument, we stopped by another memorial for twelve soldiers who died by the kibbutz during the most recent Second Lebanon War only three summers ago. This memorial included photos of the twelve dead soldiers, and our tour guide apologized that she knew we just wanted to go swimming, but she could not just walk by without paying her respects to these soldiers. She explained that in Israel, because the army is made up of reserves, almost every Israeli you meet will know someone who died while trying to defend his/her country.
She said that unfortunately, the fight for Israel's existence did not end with the Battle of Tel Hai, and this recent memorial attested to the continuing battle towards peace.
She then apologized again if she made us sad. But then she said that this is how people lived in Israel. One minute, you could be on a jolly walk towards a cool swimming pool, and the next minute be saddened by reminders of deaths of comrades, but that wouldn't stop her from jumping into the pool anyway. Her message was that life is hard in Israel because the people here are perpetually reminded that they have to fight to exist on this land, but that's just the way it is. Life moves on.
I was really impressed and touched by her explanation, and despite the sweltering heat, I wanted to stay a little longer and read the plaques. Instead, I snapped some quick photos as the rest of the group headed along towards the beckoning pool.
This reminded me of my post a while ago where I was writing about Israeli nationalism and wrote:
"...the guy with the gun hanging precariously out of his back pocket got in [to the restaurant] remind you just how badly this country wants to exist, and just how much it fears for its existence. Desire and fear together usually don't make for the best pair, but it does make for strong nationalism. Whether this is good or bad, I have yet to decide, but I think that if anything, the country is in danger of fostering a radical or fundamentalist mentality in the pursuit of stability while in the process excluding and angering many."
At this time, I was struggling with the fact of Israel's fundamental means of existence without actually respecting the people who have sacrificed their lives for their country. Often times, as an American of Asian descent in Israel, I've never felt so unwanted in a country. Maybe it's because I'm Asian. Maybe it's because I'm obviously not Jewish.
Truth is, because I'm not Jewish, it will be nearly impossible for me to gain citizenship to Israel. Truth is, the Israeli government really doesn't care about non-Jews just as long as the Jewish people have somewhere to call home, no matter how many people they displace and discriminate against. I often have to remind myself that Israel is an ethnocracy not a democracy.
On one side, the idea of making Aliyah and finding sanctuary in a place you can call home is beautiful, and I sincerely believe that any people feeling like they have no homeland have a stronger and many times a more admirable form of nationalism and civic pride. On the other hand, one needs to remember at whose expense the country is surviving.
It's important to remember that one can be pro-Israel and still criticize its policies.
I saw Israeli nationalism as almost chauvinistic and supremist by turning a blind eye to the essential point that Israelis possess an incredible amount of pride and love for their country. This was wrong of me. Yes, I still believe that intense nationalism does not justify discrimination, but it is a passion that deserves credit for the people who believe in the right of their country so much to risk their lives for it. This is a universal sacrifice and dream-even Americans over in Iraq and Afghanistan lose their lives daily for a war that most Americans don't support. In the end, we always support the troops even if we are against the violence and the war.
I know that since I've been here, I've done a lot of complaining about just how ineffective everything seems to be around here or how frustrating and roundabout the bureaucracy is or how irritating it is to even complete the simplest tasks like figuring out the everchanging and fickle bus schedule. After listening to our guide speak so eloquently that day and having spent a month in Jerusalem, I've become resigned to the fact that there is no such thing as simple in this country. And that's just the way it is. Life moves on. Everything eventually works out, though it requires a little more patience on my part. And God knows, I could learn to be more patient.
Here, in Israel, if you leave your bag anywhere, consider it a goner. I'd seen this in the movies, but forgot that this actually was a daily occurrence here in Israel. All those strange contained exploding sounds I hear every day from my open window finally made sense. While we waited for the explosion, we joked that in Israel, instead of telling my teacher that my dog at my homework, I could say the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) blew up my homework.
In retrospect, this could have not just been a false alarm. The bag could have actually had something dangerous in it, and this is the reality that Israelis live with every day. It was a strange experience to see how seriously the Israeli policemen took their duty to neutralize the bomb threat situation and how nonchalant and normal the locals acted toward this almost daily "nuisance".
During my weekend in the Golan Heights and the upper Galilee, we took a hike around the Tel Hai area on the way to the swimming pool at the local kibbutz. We stopped by the Roaring Lion Monument, which is a famous memorial of the Battle of Tel Hai to eight Jewish men and women who died in one of the earliest battles between Jews and Arabs. The site www.gemsinisrael.com explains:
"If the brave pioneers at the beginning of the last century had not had the fortitude to withstand the hardships of the day, the Galilee as we know it today, would never have become part of modern day Israel. "
On the monument, Trumpeldor (one of the eight Jews who died in the battle) is quoted, "It is good to die for one's country".
Then, a little further outside the monument, we stopped by another memorial for twelve soldiers who died by the kibbutz during the most recent Second Lebanon War only three summers ago. This memorial included photos of the twelve dead soldiers, and our tour guide apologized that she knew we just wanted to go swimming, but she could not just walk by without paying her respects to these soldiers. She explained that in Israel, because the army is made up of reserves, almost every Israeli you meet will know someone who died while trying to defend his/her country.
She said that unfortunately, the fight for Israel's existence did not end with the Battle of Tel Hai, and this recent memorial attested to the continuing battle towards peace.
She then apologized again if she made us sad. But then she said that this is how people lived in Israel. One minute, you could be on a jolly walk towards a cool swimming pool, and the next minute be saddened by reminders of deaths of comrades, but that wouldn't stop her from jumping into the pool anyway. Her message was that life is hard in Israel because the people here are perpetually reminded that they have to fight to exist on this land, but that's just the way it is. Life moves on.
I was really impressed and touched by her explanation, and despite the sweltering heat, I wanted to stay a little longer and read the plaques. Instead, I snapped some quick photos as the rest of the group headed along towards the beckoning pool.
This reminded me of my post a while ago where I was writing about Israeli nationalism and wrote:
"...the guy with the gun hanging precariously out of his back pocket got in [to the restaurant] remind you just how badly this country wants to exist, and just how much it fears for its existence. Desire and fear together usually don't make for the best pair, but it does make for strong nationalism. Whether this is good or bad, I have yet to decide, but I think that if anything, the country is in danger of fostering a radical or fundamentalist mentality in the pursuit of stability while in the process excluding and angering many."
At this time, I was struggling with the fact of Israel's fundamental means of existence without actually respecting the people who have sacrificed their lives for their country. Often times, as an American of Asian descent in Israel, I've never felt so unwanted in a country. Maybe it's because I'm Asian. Maybe it's because I'm obviously not Jewish.
Truth is, because I'm not Jewish, it will be nearly impossible for me to gain citizenship to Israel. Truth is, the Israeli government really doesn't care about non-Jews just as long as the Jewish people have somewhere to call home, no matter how many people they displace and discriminate against. I often have to remind myself that Israel is an ethnocracy not a democracy.
On one side, the idea of making Aliyah and finding sanctuary in a place you can call home is beautiful, and I sincerely believe that any people feeling like they have no homeland have a stronger and many times a more admirable form of nationalism and civic pride. On the other hand, one needs to remember at whose expense the country is surviving.
It's important to remember that one can be pro-Israel and still criticize its policies.
I saw Israeli nationalism as almost chauvinistic and supremist by turning a blind eye to the essential point that Israelis possess an incredible amount of pride and love for their country. This was wrong of me. Yes, I still believe that intense nationalism does not justify discrimination, but it is a passion that deserves credit for the people who believe in the right of their country so much to risk their lives for it. This is a universal sacrifice and dream-even Americans over in Iraq and Afghanistan lose their lives daily for a war that most Americans don't support. In the end, we always support the troops even if we are against the violence and the war.
I know that since I've been here, I've done a lot of complaining about just how ineffective everything seems to be around here or how frustrating and roundabout the bureaucracy is or how irritating it is to even complete the simplest tasks like figuring out the everchanging and fickle bus schedule. After listening to our guide speak so eloquently that day and having spent a month in Jerusalem, I've become resigned to the fact that there is no such thing as simple in this country. And that's just the way it is. Life moves on. Everything eventually works out, though it requires a little more patience on my part. And God knows, I could learn to be more patient.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Where's the line?
Religion and culture-where does one draw the line here in Israel?
Does the line even exist?
I find myself struggling to gauge the diverging point between Jewish culture and Judaism because often times they almost seem interchangeable, but other times, their fluid substitution is not appropriate to me.
For instance, I will be studying in Ulpan for almost two months before I actually start my university classes in October. Ulpan is basically intensive Hebrew language classes designed for foreigners and immigrants making Aliyah to Israel, so that they will be able to better integrate into Israeli society. *Making Aliyah is when people of the Jewish diaspora immigrate to Israel.*
So far, learning Hebrew has been pretty easy for me since I use the same methods of learning it as I did for Arabic. And despite the long and many Ulpan school days, I guess it's pretty cool that I will be able to read, write, and speak Hebrew by the end of this semester.
Like any other language class, we also learn about Israeli culture. The manner in which we do that is by learning colloquial Hebrew phrases (many of which come from Arabic too-like "sababa", which means "cool") and we also sing national Israeli anthems and the book often makes references to historically religious figures and biblical stories.
Mostly, I really enjoy learning about the culture behind a language because a lot of times you can tie certain cultural aspects back to the language, which makes the language much richer within the context and moreover, it helps you remember words and phrases that may initially sound like gibberish by using mnemonic devices. This is why studying abroad for language immersion is so effective because not only are you surrounded by the language, but as cliche as it sounds, you're also experiencing it by seeing the way people interact with each other through the language in their daily activities.
Some examples of this include: the verb to sit "yoshev" in Hebrew; I remember this verb because I think of Yeshivas where students sit to learn, and I know the term Yeshiva from reading Philip Roth. Or in Arabic, I will always remember "yallah" because when I was in Morocco, everywhere I heard "yallah!" used to mean "let's go!", "hurry up!", "come on!", "come here", "start eating", etc. Pretty soon, it became a verb and I used to joke that all I did was "yallah around Morocco". Or how Japanese people always say "soo desu nee" and "soo desu ka?", which are phrases of polite agreement as an appropriate reply to almost anything (despite whether they agree or not), which reflects the legendary Japanese emphasis on decorum.
Back to the point-so yes, I fully appreciate and agree with learning a language by simultaneously learning the culture behind the language. But here in Israel, the culture seems so rooted in Judaism, and theAmerican obsession with separation of church and state does not exist. Furthermore, most American Jews I talk to tell me that being Jewish is more like being part of a culture embedded with religious traditions than being part of a religious group.
In class, I like reading about how a kibbutz functions and about famous Israeli historical figures, but I don't like when we read about Bible stories and my teacher doesn't understand how everyone isn't familiar with them (I mostly am because I grew up going to Bible study in church, but other non-Jews in my class mostly look around blankly). I don't like going to the auditorium to sing Israeli national anthems that my Jewish friends learned by heart in their American Hebrew schools. I don't like that our tour guides tell us that the Druze communities up north in the Golan Heights are better off being part of Israel than Syria because not only is Israel more modern, but it is also more tolerant. I find that hard to believe when the Israeli government is finding new excuses to discriminate against Ethiopian Jews trying to make Aliyah to Israel while embracing American and Eastern European Jews with open arms and free birth right trips. And I don't want to listen to Hebrew school rock on the bus during field trips with songs about Samson and that devil-woman Delilah.
I respect the traditional breaking of the Challah on Shabbat, but I don't want to be handed a sheet of paper to follow along with the prayers and chants in phonetic English-Hebrew before I eat dinner, not because I don't like things that are different than what I'm used to, but I don't feel comfortable even just humoring people and mumbling prayers I don't understand. I liken all these things to going to Catholic or Protestant school because when I went to St. James elementary school, we did all these things like good Christian lambs. We went to chapel and prayed and sang hymns; we had religion class and prepared for the annual Nativity play. But I feel at this age I shouldn't have to be put in these situations where I feel like the religion is being imposed on me because the majority of the students are Jewish. I understand that these are supposed to cultural experiences, and I really want to learn about Judaism because I don't know very much about it, but I want to be able to do it on my own terms without feeling like I'm going to traditional Hebrew school without my expecting it. And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way because sometimes in class, the other gentiles will ask the teacher, "Is this religion class?".
I guess having grown up in the States (meaning Los Angeles and going to Wellesley), I'm so used to people always being politically correct and especially sensitive about civil rights and liberties that translate into cultural and religious tolerance. Sometimes, I feel like this cultural and religious tolerance are so sacrosanct and placed on such high pedestals wrapped with miles of caution tape, that often subjects like religion are not even breached, while difficult and loaded questions are altogether avoided for the sake of not being flamed as a bigot and racist. But this is problematic too because instead of creating an embracing form of tolerance, it creates more feelings of "the other", which is both unquestionable and ultimately misunderstood.
I keep telling myself to take all this with a grain of salt. So what if they have you pray with them before eating on weekend trips? So what if you can now sing along to Hebrew school tunes? I keep telling myself to keep an open mind, and to relish every experience whether I want to be experiencing it or not. I keep reminding myself that this is how it is here, and I can learn to accept it. But this line has been a hard one to straddle because I can't find it, and I don't even know if it exists.
Do I even need to find it?
Can I just accept it for the way it is and stop questioning and fighting it?
What do you think?
Does the line even exist?
I find myself struggling to gauge the diverging point between Jewish culture and Judaism because often times they almost seem interchangeable, but other times, their fluid substitution is not appropriate to me.
For instance, I will be studying in Ulpan for almost two months before I actually start my university classes in October. Ulpan is basically intensive Hebrew language classes designed for foreigners and immigrants making Aliyah to Israel, so that they will be able to better integrate into Israeli society. *Making Aliyah is when people of the Jewish diaspora immigrate to Israel.*
So far, learning Hebrew has been pretty easy for me since I use the same methods of learning it as I did for Arabic. And despite the long and many Ulpan school days, I guess it's pretty cool that I will be able to read, write, and speak Hebrew by the end of this semester.
Like any other language class, we also learn about Israeli culture. The manner in which we do that is by learning colloquial Hebrew phrases (many of which come from Arabic too-like "sababa", which means "cool") and we also sing national Israeli anthems and the book often makes references to historically religious figures and biblical stories.
Mostly, I really enjoy learning about the culture behind a language because a lot of times you can tie certain cultural aspects back to the language, which makes the language much richer within the context and moreover, it helps you remember words and phrases that may initially sound like gibberish by using mnemonic devices. This is why studying abroad for language immersion is so effective because not only are you surrounded by the language, but as cliche as it sounds, you're also experiencing it by seeing the way people interact with each other through the language in their daily activities.
Some examples of this include: the verb to sit "yoshev" in Hebrew; I remember this verb because I think of Yeshivas where students sit to learn, and I know the term Yeshiva from reading Philip Roth. Or in Arabic, I will always remember "yallah" because when I was in Morocco, everywhere I heard "yallah!" used to mean "let's go!", "hurry up!", "come on!", "come here", "start eating", etc. Pretty soon, it became a verb and I used to joke that all I did was "yallah around Morocco". Or how Japanese people always say "soo desu nee" and "soo desu ka?", which are phrases of polite agreement as an appropriate reply to almost anything (despite whether they agree or not), which reflects the legendary Japanese emphasis on decorum.
Back to the point-so yes, I fully appreciate and agree with learning a language by simultaneously learning the culture behind the language. But here in Israel, the culture seems so rooted in Judaism, and theAmerican obsession with separation of church and state does not exist. Furthermore, most American Jews I talk to tell me that being Jewish is more like being part of a culture embedded with religious traditions than being part of a religious group.
In class, I like reading about how a kibbutz functions and about famous Israeli historical figures, but I don't like when we read about Bible stories and my teacher doesn't understand how everyone isn't familiar with them (I mostly am because I grew up going to Bible study in church, but other non-Jews in my class mostly look around blankly). I don't like going to the auditorium to sing Israeli national anthems that my Jewish friends learned by heart in their American Hebrew schools. I don't like that our tour guides tell us that the Druze communities up north in the Golan Heights are better off being part of Israel than Syria because not only is Israel more modern, but it is also more tolerant. I find that hard to believe when the Israeli government is finding new excuses to discriminate against Ethiopian Jews trying to make Aliyah to Israel while embracing American and Eastern European Jews with open arms and free birth right trips. And I don't want to listen to Hebrew school rock on the bus during field trips with songs about Samson and that devil-woman Delilah.
I respect the traditional breaking of the Challah on Shabbat, but I don't want to be handed a sheet of paper to follow along with the prayers and chants in phonetic English-Hebrew before I eat dinner, not because I don't like things that are different than what I'm used to, but I don't feel comfortable even just humoring people and mumbling prayers I don't understand. I liken all these things to going to Catholic or Protestant school because when I went to St. James elementary school, we did all these things like good Christian lambs. We went to chapel and prayed and sang hymns; we had religion class and prepared for the annual Nativity play. But I feel at this age I shouldn't have to be put in these situations where I feel like the religion is being imposed on me because the majority of the students are Jewish. I understand that these are supposed to cultural experiences, and I really want to learn about Judaism because I don't know very much about it, but I want to be able to do it on my own terms without feeling like I'm going to traditional Hebrew school without my expecting it. And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way because sometimes in class, the other gentiles will ask the teacher, "Is this religion class?".
I guess having grown up in the States (meaning Los Angeles and going to Wellesley), I'm so used to people always being politically correct and especially sensitive about civil rights and liberties that translate into cultural and religious tolerance. Sometimes, I feel like this cultural and religious tolerance are so sacrosanct and placed on such high pedestals wrapped with miles of caution tape, that often subjects like religion are not even breached, while difficult and loaded questions are altogether avoided for the sake of not being flamed as a bigot and racist. But this is problematic too because instead of creating an embracing form of tolerance, it creates more feelings of "the other", which is both unquestionable and ultimately misunderstood.
I keep telling myself to take all this with a grain of salt. So what if they have you pray with them before eating on weekend trips? So what if you can now sing along to Hebrew school tunes? I keep telling myself to keep an open mind, and to relish every experience whether I want to be experiencing it or not. I keep reminding myself that this is how it is here, and I can learn to accept it. But this line has been a hard one to straddle because I can't find it, and I don't even know if it exists.
Do I even need to find it?
Can I just accept it for the way it is and stop questioning and fighting it?
What do you think?
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I need to think up better titles for these posts.
There's nothing like seeing another people be so proud of its own culture to make one reach deep inside and search for her own roots.
Israeli nationalism is very peculiar and unique. Sure, there are the conventional Israeli flags draped over balcony terraces or hung like curtains in apartment windows, but also, as a proclaimed Jewish country, Israeli nationalism is manifested in the tensions between religious tradition and secularization, Palestinians and Israeli Jews, and darker Mizrahi Jews from Morocco and other places in the Middle East and the lighter Ashkenazi Jews mostly from Russia and France.
The recurring symbols of the kippah clipped neatly in a man's shorn hair paired with jeans and stylish Chucks or the pregnant young women pushing along a baby stroller jostled by four other young wearing matching outfits and close in age or the Israeli army soldiers on and off duty in or out of their clean-cut uniforms and always slinging a kalashnikov over their soldiers or casually, not inconspicuously fitting a hand gun in the back of their pants or the security guards at every entrance holding a metal detector and checking your bags with a cursory glance while you wonder how the guy with the gun hanging precariously out of his back pocket got in remind you just how badly this country wants to exist, and just how much it fears for its existence. Desire and fear together usually don't make for the best pair, but it does make for strong nationalism. Whether this is good or bad, I have yet to decide, but I think that if anything, the country is in danger of fostering a radical or fundamentalist mentality in the pursuit of stability while in the process excluding and angering many.
Ever since I've been here, I've felt this really strong urge to seek out any links to my Korean heritage. I've never really felt that I belonged to the Asian (azn) pride mentality that many Asian-American first generation kids feel, and I've always been a "banana" who couldn't really speak Korean slang or get into Korean dramas. It's really a curious phenomena that here in Israel, I'm feeling so much Korean pride, and I find myself searching for fellow Korean students or looking up Korean restaurants in Jerusalem (of which, there is only one) or listening to Korean music because its comforting to hear my own language (anyone have any suggestions for some good songs?) or talking to my mom on the phone in Korean when I rarely bust it out for shame.
Seeing Israelis and their overt nationalism makes me want to feel the same way about my dual nationality. Listening to Michelle Obama's and Hillary Clinton's and Ted Kennedy's speeches at the Democratic convention reminds me of the greatness America can foster amidst the States' growing unpopularity around the world and especially in the Middle East. Finding a Korean cultural center in the heart of Ben Yehuda street in Jerusalem makes me proud to be able to say that yes, I'm American, but my origins are from Korea.
Anyway, I was going to write more, but my computer is being really difficult with me and lagging insanely while making weird whirring noises like it's about to blow up. I have so much to write about especially after a long phone conversation with some sage words from a wise friend, but it's 2 am here, and I have to wake up in three hours because I'll be going hiking in the Galillee region in northern Israel tomorrow at the crack of dawn.
I'll also update some photos from a night perched on a wall in the old city (check out the red sultan pants!) and tonight's venture to the Jerusalem Beer Festival that felt more like a sedated rave with more drunk people than high people where I tried the strangest beer called "Leche del Diablo" from a company called the Dancing Camel. Can you guess why I tried it? Something Spanish and something Middle Eastern, what could be better?
Two days later...
Tif, I mean to post this before I left for the weekend, but my computer was acting up (per usual), and I didn't have the patience to wait for it to restart again. I just got back home from a weekend trekking around the Golan Heights, and I will post about that tomorrow. I have Ulpan tomorrow morning, so for now, I'm just posting what I mean to post before I left.
Israeli nationalism is very peculiar and unique. Sure, there are the conventional Israeli flags draped over balcony terraces or hung like curtains in apartment windows, but also, as a proclaimed Jewish country, Israeli nationalism is manifested in the tensions between religious tradition and secularization, Palestinians and Israeli Jews, and darker Mizrahi Jews from Morocco and other places in the Middle East and the lighter Ashkenazi Jews mostly from Russia and France.
The recurring symbols of the kippah clipped neatly in a man's shorn hair paired with jeans and stylish Chucks or the pregnant young women pushing along a baby stroller jostled by four other young wearing matching outfits and close in age or the Israeli army soldiers on and off duty in or out of their clean-cut uniforms and always slinging a kalashnikov over their soldiers or casually, not inconspicuously fitting a hand gun in the back of their pants or the security guards at every entrance holding a metal detector and checking your bags with a cursory glance while you wonder how the guy with the gun hanging precariously out of his back pocket got in remind you just how badly this country wants to exist, and just how much it fears for its existence. Desire and fear together usually don't make for the best pair, but it does make for strong nationalism. Whether this is good or bad, I have yet to decide, but I think that if anything, the country is in danger of fostering a radical or fundamentalist mentality in the pursuit of stability while in the process excluding and angering many.
Ever since I've been here, I've felt this really strong urge to seek out any links to my Korean heritage. I've never really felt that I belonged to the Asian (azn) pride mentality that many Asian-American first generation kids feel, and I've always been a "banana" who couldn't really speak Korean slang or get into Korean dramas. It's really a curious phenomena that here in Israel, I'm feeling so much Korean pride, and I find myself searching for fellow Korean students or looking up Korean restaurants in Jerusalem (of which, there is only one) or listening to Korean music because its comforting to hear my own language (anyone have any suggestions for some good songs?) or talking to my mom on the phone in Korean when I rarely bust it out for shame.
Seeing Israelis and their overt nationalism makes me want to feel the same way about my dual nationality. Listening to Michelle Obama's and Hillary Clinton's and Ted Kennedy's speeches at the Democratic convention reminds me of the greatness America can foster amidst the States' growing unpopularity around the world and especially in the Middle East. Finding a Korean cultural center in the heart of Ben Yehuda street in Jerusalem makes me proud to be able to say that yes, I'm American, but my origins are from Korea.
Anyway, I was going to write more, but my computer is being really difficult with me and lagging insanely while making weird whirring noises like it's about to blow up. I have so much to write about especially after a long phone conversation with some sage words from a wise friend, but it's 2 am here, and I have to wake up in three hours because I'll be going hiking in the Galillee region in northern Israel tomorrow at the crack of dawn.
I'll also update some photos from a night perched on a wall in the old city (check out the red sultan pants!) and tonight's venture to the Jerusalem Beer Festival that felt more like a sedated rave with more drunk people than high people where I tried the strangest beer called "Leche del Diablo" from a company called the Dancing Camel. Can you guess why I tried it? Something Spanish and something Middle Eastern, what could be better?
Two days later...
Tif, I mean to post this before I left for the weekend, but my computer was acting up (per usual), and I didn't have the patience to wait for it to restart again. I just got back home from a weekend trekking around the Golan Heights, and I will post about that tomorrow. I have Ulpan tomorrow morning, so for now, I'm just posting what I mean to post before I left.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Graduation from quizdiva
So in my spare time here, when I'm not writing a new blog entry or doing my Hebrew homework or eating pitas and hummous or running up and down the hills just outside of the dorms or trying in vain to watch scrubs and Family Guy episodes online or looking up scrumptious recipes for things I won't be able to make here because my kitchen is pitiful, I spend my idle time that I would normally spend flipping channels by reading the popular articles and blogs in the New York Times.
Remember those stupid (yet addictive) online quizzes on quizilla.com and quizdiva.com about who your perfect man is or whether you're a jealous ex or not? I used to spend valuable hours procrastinating on those websites finding out things about myself I already knew and taking quizzes that didn't even apply to my life like "Which Naruto character are you?"- I don't even watch that show for goodness sake.
Anyway, here's a bunch of links to some really great and insightful online quizzes that unfortunately will not be able to tell you what kind of flirt you are, but they're pretty valuable in their own way. Seriously, try them out: http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/08/20/best-online-psychology-tests/?em
I took the "You just get me-self test", which did tell me mostly what I already knew about myself, but with a wittier perspective. And I'm about to take the personal biases test. I'm a little afraid to take the worst sounds test, but I'll let you know what happens if I can muster up the courage to hear fingernails on a chalkboard...oh God, I can't do it.
I'm also going to attach some more pictures because they spice up the text, and you can enjoy some of the sights to go along with the textualized experiences. The first is in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher of the tomb where Jesus' body lay. The second is self-explanatory. The third is of a taxi that looks like at some point in its tender life, was near the detonation of a bomb. Just a guess.
Finally, poll: Sean was complaining to me that my blog is not aesthetically pleasing. Does anyone else feel this way? Is my blog ugly? Is the color-scheme bothersome? I know Denise and I spent quite some time deciding on the colors, but I'm up for any suggestions. If I trash the blue background, what color should the background be? Don't say black-it's too azn.
Suggestions to my blog are greatly appreciated! Please comment! Even though I know all of four
people read it.
Remember those stupid (yet addictive) online quizzes on quizilla.com and quizdiva.com about who your perfect man is or whether you're a jealous ex or not? I used to spend valuable hours procrastinating on those websites finding out things about myself I already knew and taking quizzes that didn't even apply to my life like "Which Naruto character are you?"- I don't even watch that show for goodness sake.
Anyway, here's a bunch of links to some really great and insightful online quizzes that unfortunately will not be able to tell you what kind of flirt you are, but they're pretty valuable in their own way. Seriously, try them out: http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/08/20/best-online-psychology-tests/?em
I took the "You just get me-self test", which did tell me mostly what I already knew about myself, but with a wittier perspective. And I'm about to take the personal biases test. I'm a little afraid to take the worst sounds test, but I'll let you know what happens if I can muster up the courage to hear fingernails on a chalkboard...oh God, I can't do it.
I'm also going to attach some more pictures because they spice up the text, and you can enjoy some of the sights to go along with the textualized experiences. The first is in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher of the tomb where Jesus' body lay. The second is self-explanatory. The third is of a taxi that looks like at some point in its tender life, was near the detonation of a bomb. Just a guess.
Finally, poll: Sean was complaining to me that my blog is not aesthetically pleasing. Does anyone else feel this way? Is my blog ugly? Is the color-scheme bothersome? I know Denise and I spent quite some time deciding on the colors, but I'm up for any suggestions. If I trash the blue background, what color should the background be? Don't say black-it's too azn.
Suggestions to my blog are greatly appreciated! Please comment! Even though I know all of four
people read it.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
My education really begins
I hope you've been enjoying my picture updates. This one's a doozy.
Tonight I will have been away from home for three weeks. I will have:
- done two loads of laundry
- eaten six falafel sandwiches, three shawarma wraps, around 150 calcium gummy bears (the recommended amount is two/ day-that should be only 42 since I’ve arrived, but I pop those things like candy)
- felt occasional bouts of homesickness
- experienced Tel Aviv nightlife
- swam in the
- gotten a tan I doubt will ever go away
- bought a pair of bright red and gold sultan pants that feel like a gauzy diaper (FINALLY!!!!)
- been frustrated by the lack of public transportation and nearby open grocery stores through three Shabbats
- learned basic conversational Hebrew “Mah nishmah?”
- finished two books (Stolen Lives by Malika Oufkir and Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin, both of which I highly recommend)
- and generally, I’ve come to really enjoy being here-going to Ulpan, meeting new people, traversing into downtown’s fresh produce shouk in the chaos right before Shabbat, and discovering each quarter of the old city by stumbling into narrow alleys and suspicious archways.
I feel like these past three weeks have really flown by. Even though this place doesn’t really feel like home yet, it’s a strange, yet comforting feeling to know that I’m not just a temporary tourist, but I live here, and I have the next five months to make it my home.
After my post several days ago, I realized that what to me felt like an innocuous diary entry was actually very alarming to my family and close friends. I got several phone calls from various family members and worried friends and some really sympathetic emails reassuring me that I had all the support in the world, and that the loneliness and homesickness were easy hurdles to overcome, and nevertheless were all a normal part of being a new place. Thank you for all your concern, and thank you for the kind emails. Thank you for all the calls and for pledging to send me ramen. They’ve all really helped me remember why I’m here, and they’ve encouraged me to climb out of this rut and take this experience, all the good and the bad, head on.
So, I’ve been thinking a lot, why
The few Israelis I have talked to have been adamant-you do not enter the Arab areas including the Muslim quarter in the old city and the highly concentrated places in East Jerusalem (where the university campus is actually located-we’re right next to the West Bank) unless you are Arab or Muslim. When I ask why, they shake their heads in disbelief and say it is dangerous. I wonder how they can say this when they walk through the same university halls as Palestinians and Arab-Israelis, take the same classes, and drink coffee in the same university cafes. Maybe the university is a utopian no-fire zone for intellectual liberation, but otherwise an unrealistic bubble to a world where Muslims and Jews can co-exist but don’t dare intermingle.
More than Israelis, I’ve been able to talk with many American-Jews mostly from the big cities like
To me, Jewish included the more orthodox Jews I saw walking every Saturday to temple in
for more information about this, read: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/12/AR2006071201627_pf.html
This gives me a whole different side and perspective to the issue. I have always been more inclined to the Palestinian side. I’ve read books sympathetic to the Palestinian plight like Road to Martyrs’ Square and am currently reading Dishonest Broker. But now, I am more able to sympathize with the Zionist dream to have a homeland for the Jewish community to feel safe in. However, I’m still unconvinced by the methods of bringing about this safety at the expense of the Palestinian livelihood and liberty.
One side of the argument is that
I’m really grateful that even in this short amount of time, I’ve been able to hear the other side of the story, even if it is just the beginning. It’s really surprising to me to hear that Jewish people in the states face hate crimes just like any other minority. But I think that even those hate crimes done to Jewish-Americans would have been done to any minority whether they be Muslim, Asian, Hispanic (even though they’re no longer in the minority in
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A temporary distraction
I feel like my recent posts have not been very interesting or substantial, and I'm having trouble writing about things I hope will be entertaining or even worth reading. I have so much to write about and a million thoughts that I'm trying to keep track of, but I can't seem to get them into a coherent set of ideas yet.
So in the mean time, here are some more photos from yesterday's sauntering through the old city and today's Israeli museum exploration:
(ps. I can only seem to update 5 photos at a time.)
Here's that huge menorah I was talking about in my earlier post during the day time, and you can't see it in this picture's angle, but the kid in the blue hat has a gun in his lap.
The next picture is taken in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher of the stone where supposedly Jesus' body was washed before his burial. The man bending over it was praying by it while rubbing his hands on it.
Here I am on the roof of the shouk/souk in the old city. You can see the Dome of the Rock and the Mount of Olives in the background. And check out all those satellite dishes! It's just like in Morocco where it's so bizarre to see ancient buildings adorned with the modern trinkets of satellite television.
We spent saturday afternoon at the only open museum in Jerusalem-the Israel Museum, and saw the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Shrine of the Book. The scrolls were in an underground cave sort of structure, and the white fountain behind us is the roof of the construction. The atmosphere of the museum exhibit is supposed to mimic the inside of the pots where the scrolls were found.
Have you ever seen those LOVE sculptures? This one is by the same artist with love in Hebrew. The placement of the sculpture against the blue sky and Jerusalem in the background reflect a spiritual, celestial love as well as the more earthly love. It's also cool because read from right down to left down, it says, "Ab" and "HaHa", which are also both names for God.
So in the mean time, here are some more photos from yesterday's sauntering through the old city and today's Israeli museum exploration:
(ps. I can only seem to update 5 photos at a time.)
Here's that huge menorah I was talking about in my earlier post during the day time, and you can't see it in this picture's angle, but the kid in the blue hat has a gun in his lap.
The next picture is taken in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher of the stone where supposedly Jesus' body was washed before his burial. The man bending over it was praying by it while rubbing his hands on it.
Here I am on the roof of the shouk/souk in the old city. You can see the Dome of the Rock and the Mount of Olives in the background. And check out all those satellite dishes! It's just like in Morocco where it's so bizarre to see ancient buildings adorned with the modern trinkets of satellite television.
We spent saturday afternoon at the only open museum in Jerusalem-the Israel Museum, and saw the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Shrine of the Book. The scrolls were in an underground cave sort of structure, and the white fountain behind us is the roof of the construction. The atmosphere of the museum exhibit is supposed to mimic the inside of the pots where the scrolls were found.
Have you ever seen those LOVE sculptures? This one is by the same artist with love in Hebrew. The placement of the sculpture against the blue sky and Jerusalem in the background reflect a spiritual, celestial love as well as the more earthly love. It's also cool because read from right down to left down, it says, "Ab" and "HaHa", which are also both names for God.
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