Mercedes

Most of the taxi cars in Israel are Mercedes, though generally, people drive smaller and less-expensive vehicles. When I inquired about this strange observation, I learned that a German president (not sure if he was formerly or is currently president) donated thousands of Mercedes cars to Israel as part of their retribution from the Holocaust. Obviously, a nation can't purchase back millions of lives lost at their own hands, but this is part of the continual amends Germany is making to Israel.

Barakalahoofic...

That's the [phonetic] word in Arabic for God bless you.

After hanging out with Kate Hess and the kids from her neighborhood on the Mount of Olives, I've decided that I need to learn some Arabic language. Thanks to iTunes free podcasts, I'm learning the basics of the spoken language. In Jerusalem, many people are at least bilingual, English being the second language. More of the Hebrew speaking population speaks English than the Arabic population, so I'm diving into some Arabic because this is the native language of most of the people I'm around.

I'm praying for a gift of tongues and interpretation with this one (haha)-- it's a tricky language.

dates, wigs, bread, trash, doves & Nelson

Some random observations::

Dates- Like the American adage "An apple a day keeps the doctor away", in Israel it's: "A date a day keeps the doctor away".

Wigs- Various sects of Ultra-Orthodox Jewish women shave their head immediately following marriage. They are then required to either wear a head covering or a wig over their shaved heads. I've never seen so many wigs around the city, though I wouldn't have noticed it if a friend hadn't pointed it out. Old and young alike adorn their heads with beautiful shiny wigs.

Bread- In the Palestinian neighborhood, it is not uncommon to see fresh and moldy bread everywhere- whether hanging in a bag from a fence post or piled in the streets, bread is everywhere. From what I've heard, and I'm not certain that this is the truth, Palestinians think of bread as a holy food, therefore, they never throw it away in the trash, but instead leave it outside to be eaten by the (many) stray cats or just to deteriorate.

Trash- There are dumpsters on nearly every block in the Palestinian neighborhood, and at the end of every day they are overflowing with trash. Bags of garbage are disposed in these dumpsters. In addition, the streets are covered in trash every day. If a person buys an ice cream, a bag of chips, or a soda- when they are finished, they simply drop it on the ground. Every night a garbage cleanup team sweeps the streets and properly disposes of the garbage, but by 6pm there is trash in every crevice of the sidewalk and scattered in the streets. The first time I witnessed this, a young boy dropped his ice cream wrapper on the ground, so I picked it up and threw it in the dumpster for him. Just a few minutes later I saw an old gentleman drop a plastic bag filled with trash on the sidewalk, and that was when I understood that this was commonplace and very much accepted. ((Though, I will not assimilate to this habit))

Doves- Doves live all around Jerusalem. They are brownish-grayish and make a purring / owl-whoo'ing sort of sound. There are a few that live in the trees outside of the house, and every day I wake up to their lovely sound.

Nelson- Melissa, aka. St Francis, rescued a stray kitten and has nurtured it back into health. Kim named it Nelson and now he lives within our gate.

a day in the life of...

So I've been terrible at keeping up with writing in this blog- I've just so enjoyed being disconnected from the electronic world. I've found that not having a cell phone and not accessing the internet constantly has allowed me to really see and experience what's going on around me. It's not until those kinds of things are gone that I've realized what a constant distraction they are.

My time in Jerusalem has been many things- restful, exciting, hot, challenging, educational, fun, frustrating...

Going from a full time school schedule, doing scholarship work, having a job, plus all of my commitments with family, friends and church- Jerusalem has forced me into a place of rest. The idea of being busy doesn't exist for me right now. My days consist of playing guitar in the house of prayer or church for about 3 hours, practicing for at least one, and exploring the city. Generally I have time off in the middle of the day, which is also the heat of the day, so I try to find a cool place to hang out. The Garden Tomb (the location where Jesus was Crucified & the tomb where he was buried) is just a 2 minute walk from the church- and it's a beautiful oasis of trees and shade. I've spent a lot of time at Succat Hallel- a 24-7 HOP that overlooks Mount Zion. Jerusalem is a walking city. Distance is a relevant term- anything that's close when walking means that it's within an hour. Last Sunday night I hung out with some friends and I walked 2 1/2 hours just getting to various places; and this is a hilly city- regardless of where you go, it's uphill both ways.

The ministry to the abused women is complicated- as most of the women coming in are Palestinian, and don't speak English. We need translators for this kind of counseling. At this point we are collecting the womens' stories in order to build a strong case with attorneys. In Jerusalem the greatest problem with any kind of sexual abuse is that the women don't have a voice-- if, for example, a woman gets raped on the streets- it is never her fault. The woman is always the one to blame, and that is why this particular ministry is so powerful and important- because these women have not only been abused, but they've been denied a voice and the ability to be healed from such awful trauma.

Anyways, this is just a brief update-- more to come about marriage customs, holidays, the lunar eclipse from the rooftop, and church in East Jeru.

refugee camp

Yesterday I visited a Palestinian refugee camp in Jericho, a little less than an hour outside of Jerusalem. Refugee camps are compounds of families, grouped together in community. In Israel, they were forced out of their homes during war, and live in great poverty. These communities are among the poorest, overpopulated and most ill-treated in the nation. We were welcomed through the gate into a gentleman's house to visit. He had a car in the driveway, a small in-ground pool with green water which his young children were playing in (3 boys & 3 girls), and lots of garbage in the yard. He was very excited because he recently signed a one-year contract ensuring work. For his job, he employs 10 other men. He pays 1000 Shekels (about $300) a day to gain access to the dump, where he sifts through the trash to find valuable materials such as metals. He loads up a truck and brings it home to sort through, and piles of this trash remain in his front yard. In the same proximity as the children's play area is a giant pile of trash, probably 2 or 3 truckloads full. I saw 3 used tampon applicators scattered in front of his home. As he explained his situation, the joy on his face was astounding; I could hardly fathom paying money to pick trash. I'm not sure how typical this situation is (I suspect it is rather typical in the refugee camps), but I am sure that not everybody in Israel has such harsh circumstances.

View of Jericho from a monastery on the Mount of Temptation-

(Refugee camp on left :: Jordan River Valley in the back :: Dead Sea on the right)

Road in the refugee camp

Palestinian family in the refugee camp

kosher cell phone

Last night I had the privilege of spending some time with a sweet young woman named Grace. She was raised in an ultra-Orthodox Jewish family, and while she is not following that faith now, she is still very connected with her family. She began explaining the foolishness of a kosher cell phone. Data plans are not allowed. Texting is not allowed. On Sabbath, incoming and outgoing calls face a large fine. In addition to these restrictions, her family has blocked any outgoing calls. So basically, she can only receive calls, and only on particular days. We are so fortunate to have the freedoms we have!

More to come later.

the arrival

I left home at 9:30pm.

I left Maine at 2am.

I left Boston at 8am.

I left London at 10:30pm.

I left Tel Aviv at 7:00am.

I arrived in Jerusalem at 8:30am.

All of my travel was as smooth as I could have imagined- no nasty security checks, no interrogations, lots of sleep on the planes, and even some friendly visits with my flight neighbors. One in particular, Iftah, felt like a brother as he shared some stories of backpacking and exploring South America and the California coast following his release from the required 3 years of army service. I felt in good company with this kind-eyed adventurous young man. When he met his parents at the pickup terminal in the Ben Guiron airport in Tel Aviv, he introduced me to them as if I had accompanied him on his 8-month adventure in South America.

Hauling my guitar across the world proved to be most advantageous, as the flight attendants of my 2 British Airlines flights treated that 6-stringed instrument like a child or a second passenger: allowing me to preboard to assure proper storage of it. Never before have I been treated in such an agreeable way when flying. I have always said, and certainly will continue to say, that British Airlines is the best airline company I've ever flown with. 2 thumbs way up!

What a priviledge to fly into Israel watching the 5am sunrise over the cumulous clouds which hovered just above the earth's surface; a lovely array of pinks and reds across the sky with two mountains peeking their tips above the clouds, most likely mountains from the coastal region of Haifa.

I waited inside the 10 passenger shuttle van which would bring me into Jerusalem, about a 40 minute drive, and watched Jewish driver choose who he wanted to ride in his van. The entire time that he was not inside his van, he had a cigarette in his mouth and a scrunched eyebrow. His dark brown skin was wrinkled from the lifetime exposed to the unrelenting middle eastern sun. Inside the man I watched one woman fan herself with a holy book, and another munch on fresh nuts that were sold streetside outside of the airport.

After about 35 minutes of sitting in the shuttle, watching the driver refuse certain people rides, an Englishman spoke to him quite firmly saying that he can't pick and choose people leaving us here waiting. Two shuttles had already come, loaded up and left- and we were still sitting there with 3 empty seats. Finally, 3 ultra orthodox Jews negotiated with the driver outside the window and loaded their luggage into the trunk. Two older gentlemen sat in the back seat with me, and one seat remained in the middle. The last Jewish man walked up the steps in the front of the shutle and saw that I was sitting in the back seat, then began passionately rattling off some arguments in Hebrew- pointing his finger at me. 4 local women joined in this interaction and began arguing with him- waving their hands in frustration and disgust, decibals going up with each spoken word. The driver stepped in and asked the tall black Englishman in the front seat if he'd be willing to sit in the back. He was not particularly impressed, since he had been sitting on the bus the longest and chose a single window seat. The women continued to passionately aruge with the orthodox Jew and finally, the Englishman moved to the back next to me. The religious man was not willing to sit next to me becase I'm a woman. He apologized in broken English, saying "I am sorry," and one of the local women who was involved in this scuffle replied in a nasty tone "you should be!". Finally, we were on our way. The gentleman who moved back to sit with me, Richard, was quite encouraging and gave me some practical city tips.

I was the last stop on the route, and I got dropped off at the Jerusalem Hotel just outside the Damascus Gate. As soon as I unloaded the van, Melissa and Corinna embraced me and helped me unload my small but stuffed suitcase. They led me through the stone streets of the Palestinian neighborhood to the house that I will be calling home for the next 3 months. One of the shop owners welcomed me into the neighborhood with a kind embrace. It felt like a reunion with a grandfather that I hadn't seen in years. He excitedly said "I have gift for you, you wait just one moment," then rushed inside and brought out a stack of postcards. "You choose one," he said as he fanned out my options. I grabbed one and then he gave me another. "Welcome to the neighborhood, beautiful American!" We turned up 2 more streets and arrived at our hilltop home.

So.... I am here! There is much much more to say- but this is a healthy start. I'll do my best to keep posting. Fridays and Saturdays are Shabbat- so I have those days off-- I'm not sure how busy my week days will be- but having internet at the house makes staying connected quite convenient. I've been posting low-res images from my ipod on facebook for now- more pictures will come!