I love you...Eilat!

So Ulpan officially ended last Tuesday with our final exam, and I had my bags packed a ready to go. As soon as I handed in my exam I all but ran home and grabbed a cab to the bus station. We rode about 5 hours South to Eilat with a number of friends. The bus ride was interesting in that people can buy last-minute tickets and stand or sit in the aisle of the bus, making a sort of transportation hierarchy which made me feel awful...until I conked out fifteen minutes in.

We arrived in Eilat and agreed to meet up later in the evening. Rachel and I hailed a cab with a man and his wife as drivers who seemed to readily recognize the name of our hotel, the Prima Music. Soon, we were driving past town and into a dark area near the Red Sea that was totally industrial and desolate. Rachel and I broke out into a cold sweat and checked to see that the doors were locked- I was pretty sure we had been kidnapped and were headed to Egypt and that the old tuck-and-roll would be necessary. As per usual, all the worrying was for naught, and we were safely delivered to our Boondock hotel after about 10 minutes.

The hotel really had us worried because we booked it last minute and were unsure of how it would actually turn out, especially considering the dirt-cheap price. It proved to be totally awesome. It was kind of bizarre/cool since every floor was decorated in a music theme and we had the "Rock" floor. Dad would have loved it. When we checked in, they informed us that breakfast and dinner were complimentary, which we hadn't known but saved us a small fortune.

That night we headed out with friends who were going to Egypt the next day. Sam found this cool bar called "Papaya" right on the beach. It was basically like a huge deck where we sat on white couches and smoked hooka. A couple mojitos later, it was like Ulpan had never happened. Afterward, we got some pizza at around midnight at this place on the boardwalk that has sesame-seed crust. We were awestruck to find the place filled with kids who looked no older than 10 - and on a school night. The girls were all wearing tube tops and other astounding examples of (un)dress. I wanted to give all of their artifically sparkling, glossy faces a good scrubbing and stick them in some footie jammies, but such is life here.

There was some sort of Orthodox convention staying at our hotel, so we headed down to swim the next morning, only to find that there were separate pool hours for men and women. Good thing we didn't just walk out in bikinis without asking, or it would have been prime man time and we would have had some explaining to do. Instead, we took the bus to the mall and fulfilled our dream of shooping outside the super-frumpy,ultra-religious goods that Jerusalem has to offer.

Afterward we hung out at the pool all day. It turns out orthodox women don't really swim, so it was just me, Rachel, and the lifeguard. They had these big matresses with pillows laid out under cabanas and we were situated right between the Red Mountains and the Red Sea.

That night we headed out, and found an awesome seafood restaurant. I was so happy to be in Eilat, which is largely secular, because it meant I could order shrimp, which were so good and will sustain me until I come home and hit "The Dead Fish" with my mom and dad. The restaurant's staff had clearly had to audition for their position, as they seemed to be the best-looking men in all of Israel. They're a little girly for my tastes (our waiter had a full-on head band) but one can still admire the general beauty. We marveled, concluding all bad-looking men must be banished to Yemen, only to remember that men in Yemen are pretty hot, too.

That night we took the wrong bus, ending up almost outside of Eilat, at which point we got off and had to take a cab back. Along the way, we asked the cab driver for his suggestion of a good bar, and he told us a place called 'the three monkeys' had great live music. Sold. We found the bar without too much trouble, and they told us the music would start in about an hour. We were so happy when a guitarist took the stage; expecting some authentic Israeli music. They started playing and then two women danced out to a Gloria Estefan number. They had these coordinated sheer getups and the cheesiest dance moves I have ever seen. They introduced themselves as "Hazel" and "Debbie" and proceeded on with a plethora of bad American music. We had to excuse ourselves as soon as possible, as I felt my years of a Smith education were being jeopardized just by being present.

The next day we hit the underwater observatory and aquarium. We saw the hugest turtles and this exhibit were you felt like sharks were swimming right past you. The underwater observatory allowed viewers below sea-level to actually look out into a coral reef of the Red Sea, teeming with bright fish. Ian, they totally had a circular observatory, which reminded me so much of the classic Steinhart tale.

We spent the rest of the day by the sea with Jordan in the distance and teal water for miles in-between. The water was so warm and there were the same bright little fishes swimming all around us, seemingly unafraid. It was fun to watch people scuba dive and snorkel, especially little kids on vacation with the folks. We also drank Pepsi, which was cool as there is only Coke in the north. I heard they have some beef with Jerusalem.

That night I stayed in. I had come down with a cold and finally decided to take it easy. I wrote some postcards, etc, so be expecting those in the mail! I also saw the "International" version of the Daily Show, got my CNN fix for awhile, and watched some really cheesy Israeli soaps.

It was a good thing I stayed in, because I felt much better the next day. We spent time by the pool, putting the finishing touches on our tan. Well, I had used SPF 5600 all weekend, so I only got a few more freckles; I was not willing to chance it, circa Mexico. Rachel got tan, though. We caught our bus back and got stuff together for classes, which started today.

Now all of our friends are back; one group got in last night from Egypt and another just arrived from Turkey. We're meeting in Sam's room in 30 minutes to talk about our trips and plan the next one, as well as take advantage of Sam's hookah. Had a great vacation, but I am also looking forward to classes!

Genesis Land

One of the best trips we've taken so far was almost one of the most unbelivably touristey but must-do things in Israel; camel riding. Thursday, we went to classes like normal and then drove about 20 minutes outside of Jerusalem to "Genesis Land" which is the closest thing the area has to an amusement park, and is far superior to Disney Land in my opinion. We were ushered into a large room and introduced to "Abraham"; an Australian man in his 50's who has assumed the identity of the biblical character and may actually believe it himself. I hoped all day that he would fall out of character, but he never did. We dressed in these smocks so we too could feel as if we traveled back in time. I kind of just felt like a dork, but it did shield your clothes from camel, so they served a purpose.

The group began hiking lush hills with breathtaking views of the Dead Sea and Jerusalem, taking turns riding the camels. There were about 7 camels, some more tempermental that others, and one baby which followed his mom the whole time. Every once in a while one of the guides would chase the baby into an awkward run, which had us all cracking up, including our two stoic body guards. Camels can be especially bumpy, but my mom and dad would have been proud of all those years of horse-back riding lessons, since posting greatly reduces the butt-slapping that leads to discomfort.

We ended our adventure in another huge tent and sat on pillows while huge trays of food were brought out to us. Abraham informed us we should eat as much as we like, and that he would replenish the trays. Clearly, he had never had to feed a member of the Davis family because I totally gave him a run for his money on the kebabs, which were delish. We got to watch dusk fall onto the hills, looking out toward the Dead Sea, and as cheesy as it sounds, you could almost imagine you were back in biblical times.

Zichron Yaacov

Last Monday we went to a really nice winery near Carmel in a artist's colony called Zichron Yaacov. It was about a 2 hour drive,but the scenery was beautiful, and Rachel let me listen to her i-pod with a bunch of Israeli music on it. Once we arrived at the winery, we sampled an Emerald Reisling, a super dry Cabernet, and a sweet Muskat (which I can only remember by saying 'muskrat'). They gave us loads of olives and breads with our wine, and by the time we started out on the tour we were all full and a little drunk. The tour was interesting and we got to see all the facilities and watch a little movie about the wine there.

After buying some wine, which I'm popping open for a special occasion only, we took a short walk into the little village. In about 1914 the village was the scene of a Jewish resistance movement against Ottoman rule. Our tour guide told us the grueling tale of the Aronson family in front of their home. The movement had used carrier pigeons to communicate, and Sarah Aronson had sent them out, she was apprehended by the Turks and tortured, and then she shot herself in the head but lived for four days. Our tour guide related all of this in a lot of uncomfortable detail. She also didn't know that much English, so she was left to pantomiming much of the tale, which only added to the groups discomfort. After finishing the tale, we were dismissed for dinner. I regained my apetite and hoovered some falafel before boarding the buses again and heading home.

A funny thing happened on the way to the Holy Sepulchre

We took a little shirot back from Tel Aviv, and since it was Shabbat and there wasn't much to do, my friends headed off for a nap. Bethany and Josh had hit the Israel Trail and asked if I wanted to meet them in the Old City at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I had mentioned that it was one of my favorite places in Jerusalem, made all the more interesting by my research on the rotunda for my Romanesque art class this past semester. So Bethany called around 2 to meet up and mentioned that I should grab our friend Lincoln, who was also interested in going. I didn't really know how to get to the old City from our dorms, so I figured having Lincoln would be a bonus. Lincoln is a pastor's son from Michigan, and I'm so glad that I met him through Josh because he is such a nice, interesting guy. He readily agreed to come, and we started walking, keeping the Dome of the Rock in sight as our strategy. About 15 minutes in, it started sprinkling and then turned in to a torrential downpour. Lincoln gestured toward a bus stop and we ran under for cover. There were three Arab men inside who warily looked at us, so I was trying to keep a safe distance from Lincoln while still staing under the cover, so I had my body turned mostly toward the street, but was looking over my shoulder as Lincoln and I chatted. All of a sudden, I saw his mouth turn to an "O" and turned toward the street just as a bus drove by, covering me in dirty water. We then decided that we should probably just keep going.I had opted for black flats over tennis shoes, which I had deemed too dirty to wear to the church. Unfortunately the water made the soles of the flats come unglued, and soon my shoes were bubbling up between my toes and the soles were falling off, so I ended up barefoot. It was also around this time that we realized we were very much in an Arab village. We walked quickly toward the skyline that offered the most crosses on buildings. It was only then that I realized I had a travel book with a map in my bag, and before long Lincoln had us back on track after a foray that was very close to Al-Aqsa. We entered the Old City through the New Gate, where it was imperative that my shoes go back on, despite the fact that it was still pouring. We began navigating the cramped and dirty quarters of the more Arab market, looking for any sign of the Church amid rows and rows of shops that look exactly the same. I was almost sure we were close when I led us down a row of butcher shops. Midway down, there was a tractor parked in the middle of the alley, making it impossible to pass. A butcher explained in pantomime that we would have to pass through his shop to get back to the street, so we walked through the back just as a chicken had his head cut off, making me yelp. A younger man gestured to watch my step as I slipped on an array of entrails and blood on the floor, and took my hand in an act of chivalry to help lead me back on the street. Lincoln and I were cracking up at the misfortune of our pilgrimage, but we were soon set right and met Bethany and Josh at the entrance to the Church, which was every bit as enchanting as I had remembered. We all agreed on taking a cab back and Josh and I cooked a big dinner for everyone after I took a much-deserved shower.

Tel Aviv

As I mentioned, we've been making these little trips all over Israel with our group. Last Friday we all went on a tour of Old Jaffa and then walked from the port to Tel Aviv, but my group of friends, Michaela, Rachel, and Rachel (Rachel squared?) arranged to stay overnight in a hostile so we could maximize the time in Tel Aviv, including heading to the Mediterranean Sea and out to clubs at night. We met Molly and some other friends in this really cool little bar that sold beer in these dipensers with ice in the middle that were delivered to your table for countless beers. It seemed to be everyones birthday in the bar, so we sang a lot, which really only added to the allure.

The Hostile was so cheap and lots of fun. It looked like it had been decorated by Roman. Roman is a family friend who proudly displayed a God's Eye he picked up at the Goodwill in he and my brother's apartment, so you get the drift. There was a continental breakfast which consisted of as much toast, marmalade and Nescafe (the only kind of coffee here) that one could put away. We slept on bunk beds that looked stunningly close to giving way, but it was a great weekend.

Al-Haponim

The first month in the Rothberg International school is dedicated to intensive language study, called "Ulpan". We're all divided by level, with about 12 different classes. Some people come just for Ulpan, since you learn so much. In my opinion, those people are sadists. Ulpan is better than I thought it would be, but it still pretty much sucks, especially since I have the retantion rate of a cabbage. The first day I was in "Aleph 4" and felt panic rising as I realized I had no idea what my teacher was talking about. I quickly asked to switch classes, and they put me in Aleph 2, in which they were throwing a ball back and forth and saying "Ani..." which kind of means "My name is..." but actually translates to the neanderthal version of "I...". I decided to go back and ask why I had skipped level 3, but not before seeing a girl get hit in the face with the ball, which was well worth it.

Now I'm in Level Three, which is just right. We have two teachers named Michal and Shira. Michal is this little Orthodox woman that is only about 30 but has three children and would like to be our mother as well. She is so, so sweet and everything we do is "tov mehod!"- very good! Shira sort of scares me, and I was wary of her until last week. There is a guy in our class who may be the biggest douche ever, and such a brown-noser. Last week he corrected me in front of the class when I misread a paragraph and Shira saw me mouth across the room to Molly what I would like to do to him, and smiled. Now we're friends because I think Shira has similar sentiments toward this particular student.

So every day in Ulpan starts with Michal asking "Ma nishma?"- How are you? It took us about two days of answering "Metsuyahn"- excellent, and "tov" before we realized they had cleverly only taught us how to answer "Good" or other positive synonyms. So on day three, a friend of mine, Michaela asked "How do you say 'I feel like shit?'" Albeit, perhaps inappropriate, it was a legitimate questions, since none of us felt so metsuyahn anymore. Sweet little Michal answered "Al haponim" which translates to "On your face". We are still unclear as to whether that means you have shit or some other bad substance on your face, or if it just means you're lying on your face, but either way it most accurately describes how one feels during Ulpan. I was pretty sure that this would be a favorite phrase of Ian's, so I hope you enjoy it, E, and practice for your visit.

Ulpan hasn't been all bad- I'm learning so much and totally get it (most of the time!). We also get little breaks, like taking a tour of the campus in Hebrew and time off for Tu B'eshvat. Tu B'eshvat is the Jewish Arbor Day, and you plant plants and trees and eat things that come from trees. We ate tons of orange (Tapuz) and huge dates. I got to plant two little shrubs on campus, which required tons of compost and fertilizer, since the ground is mostly an inhospitable clay. If my Mom were Jewish, Tu B'eshvat would be here favorite holiday by far.

Only a little over a week left of Ulpan, and then we have a 5 day break before classes start. Last night, Rachel Brandon (who has become one of my best friends here) and I booked a hotel in Eilat, the southern most city in Israel which features a lovely gulf and is about 20 degrees warmer. I'm looking forward to relaxing and laying in the sun (it has been cloudy and rainy here!) after Ulpan.

Kfar Ha-Studentim

So we live in this little structure in a place called French Hill on top of Mount Scopus (Har Ha-sofim). French Hill has a bunch of little shops, a Domino's pizza (blech!) and a grocery store called Mr. Zi's, which means "Mr. Cheap". It's a little over a mile from the campus, so we grab a group everyday to head to and from school.

Our room overlooks the Old City and we have an unobstructed view of the Dome of the Rock, which has been shining especially beautifully since it has been overcast here.

We had to wait in line for hours to figure out housing, with me getting increasingly cranky. It turned out that Rachel Sievers and I would be roommates, as well as Molly, which was excellent news. by that time, I was more interested in hanging on to those friends than in branching out. We had a third roommate, Danielle, from Kansas who is also really nice. Our last roommate arrived early the next morning. Bethany is from New York and she and her boyfriend, Josh, are both here for the semester. She is a really strong Christian, so her perspective has been really thought-provoking. Josh unofficially lives here, which is awesome because he's one of the coolest people I've ever met and makes me coffee in the morning.

Our apartment is brand new, in fact, they finished it the day before we moved in, which explains why there were cigarette butts in our shower and a bag of sand in the toilt (Actually, that doesn't explain the bag of sand at all, which continues to puzzle me.) The craftmanship was a bit shoddy. When demonstrating how to open the bathroom window to my fellow housemates, the entire thing fell out of the wall. The whole window. So, I popped it back in and now we keep the handle at a very specific 67 degree angle to ensure it stays in place. It doesn't matter anyway, because all of the windows have a cage in front of them or a steel curtain covering them.

The best part was that we each have our own room. Danielle's room is the "safe room" and has an outside steel door and is "bomb proof', a claim which I am highly doubting after the window incident.

A little bit after we moved in, a housing coordinator came in to tell us that we would actually have to move, since girls aren't allowed on the ground floor. I informed him that we were actually women, and he gave me a puzzled look and left. We called after to ask when this move would happen, but were ignored. We were all a little confused as to how such an oversight could happen, since we all checked "female" on our housing application, but it seems to have been some kind of oversight. So we didn't unpack for a week and kept checking with housing, who (when they remembered who we were) just told us to keep waiting. It seems that the Israeli motto toward foreigners is "We wish you'd stop asking so many questions and go home". Finally, about 5 days ago, the same housing coordinator came in abruptly and told us we'd be moving (we had unpacked by this point). We told him we'd rather not, and after he took a turn around the house he seemed satisfied that we were safe and left again.

The rooms didn't come with any thing, not even toilet paper. So the first night there, after about 36 hours awake, they took us to the mall. We were told to meet back in 2 hours. It was like a reality TV show in which they drop 100 foreigners outside of a mall and tell them to buy everything they'll need in 2 hours without knowing the language or currency. It's funny now, but at the time it was not so good. We ran through this ridiculously crowded home store trying to find everything we'd need. We tried to buy as little as possible, since we can't keep any of it, and I'd rather spend money on other stuff than on such boring things. We still don't have a trash can and have only a pot and pan and steak knife with which we cut everything. It makes our frequent dinner parties interesting.

Now that we're all moved in, we've established a great routine and I couldn't be happier. We all get along really well, despite being really different. I had thought I'd live with people from all over the world, which would have been cool, but in some ways it has been nice to adapt all together. I really look forward to coming home because there is always someone here for me to hang out with. We normally cook all together, we have a lot of mutual friends, and it's fun to do our homework all together.

Touch Down

Okay, to start I am here in Jeruslaem, studying in the Middle Eastern Honors program at Hebrew University. I'm safe and having the most amazing time of my life. I understand from the BBC that there is some kind of civil war pending in Gaza, but I have seen nor heard nothing of this, so disregard that for now and don't worry.

I am finally starting my blog and I am totally backlogged on all of the stories I couldn't wait to tell you. about a million funny, strange, remarkable things happen everyday to me here, and almost every one reminds me of one of you at home. I'm so behind on relating all of these events because I just got the internet in my room after being here for almost three weeks.

In fact, my lack of internet should be the idea that I start off with: Israel lacks any sort of purposeful structure. Professor Cammy, who is moving here as well, relayed this information to me when he told me about sending money to purchase a car from a man in Jeruslaem when he was still in the states. He called the man to ask if he had received the money, to which the sabra replied simply "yes." So Prof. Cammy asked if he had sent him a receipt in return to which he replied, rather impatiently, "What are you Americans so worried about? I'm a Jew, you're a Jew, I'm not trying to screw you!" No one here has been let in on the importance of a paper trail or any sort of formal record keeping. So far, that has led to all of the major challenges that I've had here.

Let me back up slightly. I'd have to say that in coming here, I was most worried about logistics at first, but as things like my Visa and records slowly came together, my primary anxiety shifted to focus around the fear that I wouldn't make any friends. Granted, that hasn't happened since Kindergarten (and Ria came along pretty quick to remedy that) but I was still worried that one day I would get somewhere where I wouldn't fit in and I'd be miserable, and I was worried that time would be now. So, I arrived at the airport in New Jersey for the group flight four hours early and filled with dread that everyone I'd meet would hate me. Fortunately, I struck up conversation with the person directly in front of me, Rachel, and discovered within about 4 sentences that she was the coolest person ever. Chalk up one friend made. it became apparent quite quickly that Rachel's friendship would be a real asset; she's lived in Jerusalem before and knows her way around and seemed to have all the same tastes as me. As we navigated our overwhelming amounts of luggage treacherously piled on "Smarty Carts" (Yes, Gillian!), I felt sure that this was actually going to be great and not the disaster I had imagined.

The best part about flying El Al is the overwheling amount of security. Each passenger is interviewed and they must be specially trained in sniffing out gentiles, because I was instantly assessed as a Shiksa and told I would have to undergo additional searches. I kept asking when this additional security would actually take place, only to be gestured toward the gate and told to wait. I had a great time getting to know everyone while I waited, and instantly found a group of really interesting and diverse people. We had lots of time to get to know one another, since we had arrived 4 hours early, and I scored points by buying cookies to share. After passing that span doing nothing, I was finally called to this tiny room manned by grumpy-looking Israelis and told to leave all of my carry-on baggage with them for one hour. I met all of the other passengers called for this purpose and found that we shared the one commonality of not being Jewish. The hour passed, and as people started to board, I went back to find that they had not even begun to search my bags. I was asked to step inside of this miniscule room that was what seemed like 109 degrees. Two security people took out 2x2 inch cloth pads on long tongs and began wiping down my shoes, and then started on all of my belongings, running over each thing about 23742 times before placing it clumsily back. After about 45 minutes, they escorted me onto the plane, and I was happy to find that two girls I had really enjoyed talking to at the gate, Rachel (different Rachel than before, everyone here is named Rachel or Sarah, but this is Rachel Brandon, and the first Rachel is Rachel Sievers) and Molly. Both Rachels are from Denver and Molly is from Orange County. I also had a really exuberant Israeli guy sitting next to me who had enjoyed his first ever trip to New york before he joins the IDF in March. Now, all of you who know my views on travel know that I keep my i-pod headphones on the entire flight, regardless of whether or not I am actually listening to music so that I can avoid the awkward conversation that inevitably ensues on airplanes. This guy, Danni, didn't quite get the concept and just talked over my music, which I begrudgingly turned off in order to answer his eager questions about life in California. It was actually pretty interesting and I managed some questions of my own and then happily slipped back into my music later. The flight was actually not bad, and I got to know Molly and Rachel a lot more and find that we had a lot in common. The best parts of El Al flights are also the ultra-glamorous Israeli flight attendants who wear jnee-high boots, the food, and the fact that everyone joyously claps at touch-down.

We landed at around 6am local time, and got through customs with little trouble. my first purchase was a Coke in the airport as I waited for my baggage. We walked into the cool air and onto six charter buses which climbed the hills and then navigated the crowded streets in Jerusalem, and arrived at our dorms.