I am emphasizing this because I read on Wednesday the 25th that the previous morning, the day in which I had visited Jerusalem, police had closed the Temple Mount to all non-Muslims. Also, this blog post will end with me performing the single stupidest act that I have ever committed since I started blogging, and you should know in advance that nobody sustained any bodily harm because of it.
On Monday morning, I walked over to the house on Havaradim, because I had received an invitation to visit Tel Aviv with some of them. Another group was going to the beach in Rishon, and I considered going with them, instead, but I hadn't brought my swim trunks or towel with me. I hung out for a little while (Harry showed me the photographs from his visit to London), and a little after 1:00 pm, Natalie, Hannah, Noah, and I walked to Herzl street and caught a sherut (a sort of shuttle) to Tel Aviv. The girls wanted to go shopping for a few items (power converters, etc.), and Noah wanted to see if he could find some protein dietary supplements (he's a big, muscular guy who works out frequently and intensively). Our destination was the Mercaz Dizengoff, the central mall in Tel Aviv, and, as far as I know, the largest mall in Israel. It's difficult to take in all at once; very sprawling, over several stories, and entirely lacking maps of any sort. The others were hungry, and we left the Mercaz in order to search for food; they found a sushi restaurant where the servers spoke English. While they were ordering, I left the restaurant in search of some small, out-of-the-way store where I could pick up a dozen postcards. I walked until I arrived by the beach, in a neighborhood with many hotels and travel agencies. This seemed like a good place to search; tourists typical flock to the beach, and where one finds tourists, one finds shops with wares intended for tourists (such as postcards). I was in luck! Although I totally failed in my ability to ask the price in Hebrew (the clerk switched to English because I was making such a fool of myself), I finally picked up 10 postcards. They cost about eight times as much as they would have in New York City, but I was happy. Postcards are an extremely special way to communicate with people across distances -- they are physical, tangible signs of oneself that one projects overseas, and are capable of making a much stronger impression of love and care than even the best-worded e-mail. If you don't receive a postcard within the next few days, by the way, and are someone who regularly reads this blog, it's more likely because I intend you to be part of the second or third "wave" of postcards, than because I don't care about you (also, if you don't think that you are on the list of those to receive a JDPostcard, send me a message, and I'll make certain that you receive one). Anyway, I returned to the restaurant (where someone was drinking wine), and I wrote to some very special people, until my friends had finished. Next stop: athletes' protein. Would you have guessed that it was so easy to find a specialty sporty-nutrition store in Tel Aviv, possibly the only such store in all of Israel? Well, it was very easy. Noah is a real expert when it comes to this stuff, and was conversing very fluently with the store clerks about the relative merits of different brands and formulae. Afterwards, we cruised around the Mercaz a little bit, and, eventually, I went into a bookstore to sit and finish a few more postcards (note: I also missed minchah for the first time since I'd arrived in Israel, and felt rather annoyed with myself).
We took the sherut back to Ramla, where Hannah, Natalie, and Noah all expressed interest in returning with me to my apartment to celebrate my roommate Ben's birthday party! Ben was happy to see us all, and we sat around and talked in our apartment's living room. I brought the fresh dates that I had bought from the shuk out of the freezer, and gave Ben the milk and juice that I had bought for him for his birthday (he really likes both of these products, by the way). We had cake, etc., and I took pictures (which you can see on FB). Rose was there, too, and soon after Noah, Hannah, and Natalie returned to their house on Havaradim, Rose, my roommate Ben, Noach, and I watched the movie Avatar, which Rose, Noach, and I hadn't yet seen. It is one of the movies most jampacked with plot clichés I have ever seen, I admit, but I still enjoyed parts of it. Afterwards, around 1:30 am, I walked Rose home, and then walked back to Havaradim, where I had left my backpack earlier. I returned, packed, and, didn't get into bed until nearly 5:00 am.
I was up the next morning at 7:00 am. On my way to the bus station, I mailed a few of the postcards that I had managed to finish the day before. I caught the bus to Jerusalem that left before 9:00 am. The bus, rather than a yellow tablet naming its destination, simply had a blue Jewish star. I guess that that was enough of an indication? I had expected to need to really fight for a place (my housemate Ben is brimming with stories about pushy Israelis on public transportation), but, unexpectedly, but very much fortuitously, I didn't need to be a jerk to get a seat on the bus. Unable to doze, I wrote another postcard on the bus, and arrived at Jerusalem's Central Bus Station around 10:00 am. One of my first sights (and a recurring sight throughout my trip) upon arrival was graffita "נַ נַחְ נַחְמָ נַחְמָן מְאוּמַן." I sat in a sukkah outside of the station, and listened to a Chabadnik sing very loudly while shaking his lulav and etrog, while continuing to write, waiting for Eli. Before long, he appeared soon, and we hugged; I had missed him (of course I had -- how could I do otherwise?). We discussed where to go, and settled on the Israel Museum, which I had never visited before (why, exactly, does Taglit not make this a destination?), and which Eli had only visited once, at a time at which many of the exhibits were closed.
We took the bus (and met a visiting Australian theologian along the way), and spent three to four hours inside the museum. We visited, in order, the Shrine of the Book (where the Qumrat Scrolls, the Aleppo Codex, and other rare texts are found), the scale model of Jerusalem, c. 50 C.E., and a temporary exhibit on Herod. The Shrine of the Book is full of fascinating treasures. Eli is exactly the person with whom to visit such a museum, and we discussed our impressions of the Qumrat sect of Essenes (?) in depth. Eli knows so much Jewish history, law, and tradition, although we were both rather blown away by some of the findings. Did you know that these guys deliberately turned away from Jerusalem when they prayed, because they believed that the Jews in Jerusalem (i.e. the Rabbinic Jews, better known to readers of Josephus and the Gospels as the Pharisees) were the "Sons of Darkness?" They had a Spartan-style brotherhood of shared meals, had a 364-day calendar (in blatant violation of the calendar calculated in Jerusalem), and were heavily into astrology and tahara. The white dome of the Shrine of the Book is constantly doused with a stream of running water, symbolic of their concern with keeping themselves ritually pure, as evinced by the high number of mikva'ot in their community. Eli chanted aloud from the facsimile of the Qumrat sect's Yishayahu, and we looked in awe at the Aleppo Codex, the oldest known copy of the Hebrew Bible (although it's missing most of the Torah, up until Ha'azinu, also known as the Song of Moses). The model of Jerusalem is stunning; it used to belong to a hotel, but has since been moved to the Israel Museum (we wondered at how it would have been possible to transport it). For those of you who haven't seen it, Second-Temple Jerusalem, in fact, closely resembles many other Roman tributary cities, built in a high place with a cultic center at its apex. Not until one sees the model, however, does one realize to what extent Herod renovated the Temple. It dominates, in a truly incredible way, the entire rest of ancient Jerusalem. The Roman amphitheater, by contrast, looks puny beside it. It is also quite clearly a defensible structure, and it is easy to understand why it was the site of the last stand of the rebels in Jerusalem in the Jewish Revolt that ended so tragically, in the Temple's destruction. Finally, Eli and I visited the exhibit on Herod, which was also fascinating. The exhibit displayed many of the relevant artifacts (such as coins minted with the heads of Herod's successors), but drew heavily on classical documents mentioning Herod; not just Josephus, but Pliny the Elder, Petronius, etc. Eli was amused by one author's dry remark that it was "better to be Herod's pig than his son." This guy was both an egomaniac and a megalomaniac, and I'm somewhat surprised that he never tried to erect a gigantic cult image of himself in the Temple in Jerusalem (or elsewhere).
After leaving the museum at around 4:00 pm, Eli and I took the bus to the Temple Mount. The bus drove us through Me'ah She'arim, the most ultra-orthodox of Jerusalem's neighborhoods, and the bus, before long, was packed with men in streimels and women in very long skirts. I was extremely anxious about accidentally coming in physical contact with one of the women, and unintentionally provoking the wrath of every Charedi on board, but the trip passed without incident, much to my relief (hey, I worry about these things, OK?). Anyway, Eli and I walked to the kotel amidst the thick crowds of other visitors. Israeli Charedim predominated, although, as always, there were Jews of all sorts, wearing clothes of all kinds, from all over the world. We prayed minchah; at the Western Wall, minyanim (prayer quorums of ten Jews) just pop up spontaneously. So long as you're a male Jewish adult with his head covered, you can find a group of at least nine others with whom to pray. Eli and I entered the residential section of the Old City, in search of the address of the Chabad Rabbi who had invited me over for an all-night study section in his sukkah. On the way, we met a man handing out free copies of Artscroll parallel Hebrew-English editions of Sefer Yishiyahu. I took one; why not? My friend Noah had also received one when he visited. I just wonder who paid for them all? And why, of all possible, probably the hardest to read in all of Nevi'im? Eli and I also went exploring in the Arab shuk. It was my first visit there, because we were strictly forbidden to visit during Birthright. I really don't understand what the stigma is; this place was a completely normal commercial district. Eli and I were far from the only openly-Jewish people there, and we were treated just like any other customers. The shop where we stopped to look around was very religious-tourist oriented, and, sold ikons, among other trinkets. Eli picked up a pair of oil lamps, which he plans to use for his Shabbat candles (Shabbat 2:2 --רבי טרפון אומר אין מדליקין אלא בשמן זית בלבד). I gazed longingly at some trinkets that I had in mind for Someone Special, but I didn't think that I could, at the moment, afford (ironic, given what occurred later that night). Eli and I stopped at a pita stand, and I got some warm, warm felafel -- my first since arriving in Israel. We ate in a public sukkah in a square that I remember visiting during Taglit). Eventually, we made our way to the Rabbi's, where he graciously welcomed us, telling us that the learning would begin at 11:00 pm. What I hadn't realized was that the address of his business card was his home address, and that there would be no possible for me to stay the night, no matter how tired I was. I had only slept two hours or so the night before, so I was not in great shape, but I at the moment didn't know what to do, exactly. My ITF friends who had visited over Yom Kippur had spoken of a "hostel," which I assumed was the address of the card that I had received. I unfortunately did not think to call any of them, and instead dropped off my bag, so that Eli and I could go and study by ourselves in a nearby Yeshiva. Nobody bothered us, and we read about half of the first chapter of Mishlei together, in Hebrew (there was no other choice). Eli had also been to a Yemenite ask-the-Rabbi the day before, and he shared some of the (rather interesting) things we had learned. We walked to the Wall, to keep me awake, and also prayed arvit. All this time, little did we realize, the window for us to leave Jerusalem was closing. We finally decided, between the two of us, that we could not stay the night in Jerusalem, mostly because I needed to sleep, and couldn't do that in the city. I collected my bag (Eli also called a certain Cool Chevruta of his at this time), and we took the light rail back to the Central Bus Station. I unfortunately had had to make a somewhat disingenuous equivocation to the Rabbi, to explain to him my sudden departure, right before the beginning of the very activity to which I had come to Jerusalem expressly to do. The station was dark, and I saw Eli off on the local shuttle back to his grandmother's house (I had decided that I would rather return to Ramla to spend the night, rather than spend the night with Eli, and need to bus back to Ramla the next morning -- very stupid of me). You see where this is going; seconds before running out of batteries Eli's smartphone had told us that there was one more bus leaving for Ramla in thirty minutes. It was wrong, and I was told to leave the (otherwise) empty station.
It was past midnight at this point, I was exhausted, and I had nowhere to go. I thought (incorrectly) that I had only one choice -- I would need to take a taxi back to Ramla. This makes my #1 Stupidest Things I've Ever Done In A Foreign Country, right up there with the time I nearly missed the Institut de Touraine bus from Chambord back to Tours, back in August 2011. The driver saw immediately that I was foreign, and was almost aggressive. I couldn't think straight enough to even show that I can speak functional Hebrew; in hindsight, all of the danger signs were there, and I should have known in advance that I was going to get skinned. He told me that the regular price was ₪320 (I think that this part was true), but that he would take me for about ₪250 (about $70.00 -- bad, but non-lethal). When we got to Ramla, he told me that it would cost me another ₪50 to bring me from southern Ramla, where we were, to northern Ramla, where I lived. At this point, I should have stuck to my guns, and insisted that he either keep the price the same, or that he let me out of the cab. Instead, I assented, completely defenseless. Finally, at Yoseftal, I tried to pay with my credit card -- which isn't possible in Israel (another thing I didn't know). I gave him every last Israeli bill, plus $40 left over from the U.S., paying him, in the end, the equivalent of nearly $100. My wallet was left entirely empty (I showed him so that he would believe me). I stumbled inside, feeling as if I had been skinned alive. In one day, I lost half of my monthly salary, and realize that I will be unable to take any of the trips to Tzfat, Rishon, or Jerusalem that I had intended (I still haven't payed for my monthly bus pass, which will cost ₪181, and I am almost out of food). This isn't the end of the world, but I feel intensely stupid. If I had just gone home with Eli, or not tried to deceive the Rabbi, or called Noah to ask about the details of the hostel where he and the others had stayed, or even just decided sooner in the day that I needed to return to Ramla, none of this would have happened. I'm such a fool ( .(כִּי מְשׁוּבַת
פְּתָיִם תַּהַרְגֵם וְשַׁלְוַת כְּסִילִים תְּאַבְּדֵם
Anyway, I've had a good few days since then. I enjoyed Simchat Torah, and I can finally eat all of my meals inside my apartment again! Also, as long as you're reading this blog post, please take a glance at this article, which happens to feature a friend of mine, Jeff Lipton, who has invested a lot of time and effort in 3-D printing.
The following image is meant to show the difference between standing in line in Germany (left) and China (right). In fact, the diagram works equally well to compare the United States (left) to Israel (right).
Finally, I am going to take a moment to make a Noa/h disambiguation. For those of you who don't know the code, and have found my messages somewhat confusing:
1) Noa is a woman, and lives in the house on Gil'ad. She is a member of the 5-month community-involvement program in Ramla, and is very cool.
2) Noah is a man, and lives in the house on Havaradim. He is a member of the 10-month Israel Teaching Fellows program, like me, but is very cool.
3) Noach is a man, and lives in my apartment on Yoseftal. He is a member of the 5-month community-involvement program in Ramla, and is very cool.
Shavua Tov, cool people! I start teaching for real this week!
~JD
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