Here I am preparing for my imitation of a boiled lobster, which I have carried out superbly!
[Side bar: I'm writing the next day (Day 10) from the lobby of my hotel, the Crystal City, and dining on authentic souvlaki - yum! A Michael Jackson song is playing - a very America-oriented place.]
Anyway, the following beach shots are purely to represent what was all around me. Any good-looking "hunks" are included by accident. ;-)
All along the water line, this paddle ball game was played - sort of like ping pong in the air without a net with a soft golf ball. See? Sort of like ping pong.
There was also a younger set experiencing sand for the first time.
What IS this stuff???
Note to self: don't eat it.
All sorts of interesting people to watch...I love the hat.
"Only two more reps, Jadda (grandmother)."
Once I had developed a sufficient roseate hue, I started the stroll south to meet up with a walking tour of Old Jaffa (this word is usually pronounced with a "j" and not a "y" and the "a" has the sound as in "cat.") I use the term "stroll" figuratively. When it is 88 degrees (though this was balmy compared to the top of Masada), 2-1/2 miles is a hike.
The tour was led by a bright young Jewish Londoner, Darren, and the other members of our little group were Mum, Dad, two girls and a boy from Bristol, England. They, also, had stayed at Ecce Homo, checking out the morning of the day I arrived. The oldest girl just graduated from Oxford with a degree in law, the mum is a GP (general practice physician), and the dad works for the Ministry of Defence (in fact, he's been to Crystal City on business). The son, Adam (maybe 15), didn't say one word the entire 3 hours. His younger sister, Hannah was also quiet.
Anyway, we enjoyed walking together - like a private tour, really. Best value for $19 I've had so far!
Here's Darren giving us a history lesson.
No history lesson for you - there's too much of it! - just photos...
Darren took this one with the outside of Old Jaffa in the background.
It's much more charming once you get into it - full of artists' galleries and homes, and cats, bats, and stairs.
Creative planting of an orange tree - it even has oranges on it!
Old Jaffa's humane society - there are easily twice as many cats out of the photo.
There are some great doors here!
And gates, too.
...views from old to new
...and from new to old
a gorgeous sunset...
...enjoyed around the world.
What can I write about Tel Aviv? It's like any big city, with it's share of modern and falling apart infrastructure. It's hard to get one without the other in a photograph. The only people I interacted with were British, so I gained all my impressions of the inhabitants from watching them. On the stroll back to my hostel along the beach promenade, I passed families grilling kabobs, a woman smoking with a hookah, a cotton candy vendor, dog walkers, nannies pushing strollers, more paddle ball players, bicyclists, runners (well, these last two passed me), and folks just enjoying the lovely evening.
If I were deaf, I could believe I was in the States. If I were blind, I wouldn't know whether I was in Israel, an Arab country, France, or Germany. The people were friendly and relaxed with each other, but didn't make eye contact with me I (even though I'd taken off my silly hat by this time). I felt completely safe, even though I didn't see one policeman. Honestly, though, I was ready to leave Israel.
There's an intensity that's not like what I felt in Rome. Hard to describe. People are kind of in your face attitudinally. Maybe grasping? For understanding. For people to take their side - whichever side is under discussion. For making a sale. For their own agenda. Here is what I experienced on one day in Israel:
1) I was entreated by an expatriate American Jew to sign a petition to unite Jerusalem under Israeli control (this was presented with a faith-based rationale as if control and politics have nothing to do with it).
2) I went through the check point in the mind-blowing wall between Israeli Jerusalem and the Palestinian territories and gained an understanding of what's going on that one can't get from media presentations (more about this on Day 6).
3) I refused to enter an Arab merchant's stall and was called a Nazi.
I've heard people rave about how wonderful Jerusalem is. Frankly, I think that's minimizing the reality, like saying the skyline of Manhattan is thrilling to see and there are some great Broadway shows. The Old City is an enchanting cacophony of sights, colors, sounds, and fragrances when taken as a whole experience, but these are like a mask for poverty and a tough physical existence. And mistrust.
The narrow streets (maybe 8 feet wide not counting the stalls) are cobbled and stepped, and I saw 10-year old boys pushing heavily laden carts up them (no ramps). By contrast, out the Jaffa Gate, on the other side of the street from the Old City, is Mamilla Mall. There's a Gap there.
I wish I could have made it to the Galilee.
Tel Aviv was just another big city, but with a gorgeous beach and a wonderful historic area on its southern edge. I did do some work during dinner last night:
All the bulbs in the crystal chandeliers are CFLs!
This place had the best houmous I EVER had plus small portions of each of twelve (!) Arabic salads (each in its own little dish), plus shawarma (shaved lamb), and fries (!) for the low price of NIS 55 (about $14.25).
So what do I write about Israel? It was a charged experience in every sense of the word. When I asked a devout Muslim taxi driver how he felt about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I listened to his passionate, profound, wise, and eloquent insistence that grabbing for all you can in the world is not why we're alive on this earth. He was driving me from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv this morning and we exchanged a warm embrace when we arrived at the hostel because the 45 minutes had been much more than a taxi ride. I enjoyed discussions about western religion/spirituality/theology with a Slovenian Catholic, an African Catholic, and a Miami Catholic. I was taken to see places where the wall is eating up homesteads that have been part of families for generations. I met a couple from Australia that's living in one of the refugee camps in Bethlehem where water is available twice/month. I experienced the spirituality of tourists walking the stations of the cross and the sounds of Muslim calls to prayer. It challenged my "stay out of it" position. I don't know what I'll do with all of this, but I think something is on the way.
My last experience in Israel (till I go back through Ben Gurion on the way home) was getting through security to LEAVE the country. I was grilled about why I was there, where I stayed, did I have brothers and sisters, did I know anyone in Israel, had I packed my bags myself, why was my name "Aisha," and the usual questions about fire arms. Several of the questions he asked twice, and he wanted the whole story of why I changed my name to Aisha. He took my passport to discuss with two colleagues and repeated questions when he came back after about 10 minutes. Then I had to send all three pieces of luggage through the scanner. Then I had to open the big piece so another security person could "wand it." Then I had to go through security screening. Then I had to go through passport control, where the security woman scanned my passport photo (taken when I had short hair and weighed 80 lbs more) and compared it to what I look like now. There was one more security check after that. It was easier to get into Israel than it was to leave it.
And now I'm in Greece. The Athens airport is like a larger version of Reagan National. I got directions from a very friendly young woman at the information kiosk. When I told her the hotel, she said, "'Easy' would be an understatement." I replied, "Oh, you mean it's a no-brainer?" She looked at me as if I'd offered her a piece of candy. "I love learning new expressions!" and she wrote it down for future use.
I had fun trying to turn Greek letters into Greek words as the Metro zoomed by billboards and station announcements scrolled by on the lighted listing sign. A man sitting next to me tried to make sense of my badly pronounced name of the station I wanted to get to, and realized I needed to change at the Metro center just like he was. So he pulled my suitcase from the train we were on to the train that would get us to my stop. He got off at the station before mine, and I couldn't remember how to say "thank you" in Greek. I think my smile was a close approximation.
The hotel is lovely (especially compared to the hostel in Tel Aviv) and just around the corner from the Metro. After I settled into the room, I went to the lobby cafe and had a piece of spanakopita, followed by a piece of galactobouriko (sinful! and I enjoyed every bite!!!) Then I took a 5-hour nap (I woke up at 3:30 AM to get the taxi to the airport for my 7 AM flight.
The top-40 oldies (well, if you consider the 70's, 80's and 90's "oldies") hits keep coming on the radio station here in the lobby of the Crystal City. It's 11 PM and I've been in the lobby for 5 hrs, blogging, dining, and drinking hot tea.
καληνύχτα!
A
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