Final Post

This is my final day in Israel. I thought a quick goodbye to everyone was in order. To all of those who have read this blog and commented, hopefully enjoying all or parts, thank you for reading. I will miss this country and region terribly as I have to come to feel rather at home here. But life moves on as do I. Hopefully, with my studies beginning (again!) at the University of Wisconsin in political science, I will be able to come and visit occasionally. To all of my friends here, thank you for all the good times. To my friends and family at home, I have missed you and look forward to seeing you all again very soon. I suggest for those who have not visited Israel to come and visit for yourself. It is far different than what you might think and it is one of the most interesting places I have had the pleasure to live. For those who are interested in this place, have visited or live here, continue to support the search for peace and do not give up on it. A peaceful Middle East and Israel-Palestine would be the greatest gift to future generations growing up here or anyone that is a part of the three great monotheistic religions. (Sorry, I had to throw that plug in there.) Thanks again.

Chili Success

It is difficult to predict how many people will come to a one-time fundraiser in a foreign country where fundraisers are not the most popular thing and where the food you are serving is a spicy American dish that most people have never tried before. Thus, the group of us that were organizing were afraid no one would come even though we had worked very hard in advertising: telling everyone we knew, putting up posters all over campus, and going door to door in the dorms trying to convince people to come. The night before we cooked more chili than I have ever seen. A short list of the ingredients will illustrate: 13 kilos of ground beef, 52 red and green peppers, 26 large onions, 20 carrots, 2 head of celery, 42 (28oz) cans of tomatoes, 6 cans of tomato paste, 42 cans of chili beans, 6 cups of hot chili powder, etc. We had three jumbo pots and a bunch of little hot plates to cook on. We lined them up so that each pot sat on two of the hot plates. You work with what you've got. It was a big production but we did it.

The next night, we fed around 200 people. The fundraiser was a huge success. The line was all the way out the door and into the street. There was music, a raffle, dancing, etc. Everyone remarked how good of a time it was and to my eternal satisfaction they said the chili was delicious. Some of the members of my Rotary Club here in Haifa came as well as administrators in the International School. Those of us that helped organize were really astounded. So many people helped set up and take down and nearly all of the chili was eaten. The best part about it was the presence of many of the Nitsan members who came and ate and danced. And, in the end, we raised way more money than we had hoped. With the help of the Rotary Clubs back home, who donated all of the advertising and food costs, everything we made could go towards the cause. In addition, through the generosity of my Rotary Club, Moriah, and the attendance of so many people, we were able to raise $4,250. This money will go towards the completion of an extra room at Nitsan so that the cramped center can have more space for their activities. We all fell that the fundraiser was a truly wonderful way to end our year in Haifa. Thank you to all who donated or supported us in any way.

The Set-Up

Just a few of the cans of tomatoes

The Production Line

Beer, the magic ingredient

The Chili Committee

Transporting Chili

The Chili Committee

just before we opened the doors

A wonderful sight

Rotary, Best Buddies and Chili Fundraiser

Considering I am nearing the end of my time in Israel (just four weeks to go), I figure I should write about some of the other aspects of the Rotary scholarship. First, the scholarship has offered me the opportunity to develop a very close relationship to Yisrael Lazar and his family. Yisrael is my Host Counselor and has invited me to spend many holidays like Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Hannukah, Passover with his friends and family. Yisrael is also constantly making sure that I am well, enjoying my time, and that I have everything I need in order to make my year a great one. In addition to attending several meetings and speaking to Yisrael's Rotary Club, I have had the opportunity to meet with them at a variety of events over the course of the year so that I am on a first name basis with many of its members. Giving speeches to other Rotary Clubs throughout Israel has been a wonderful way to see much of the country, meet "regular" Israelis and to spread the word about Iowa, the United States and my own personal journey. Also, I have found that speaking about my impressions of Iowa and life there as well as my past experiences and future goals has allowed me the opportunity to look at my life from the outside in to better understand where I come from and who I am. They always say that if you really want to learn something try to teach it to others and this expresses perfectly what Rotary presentations have done for me. In trying to teach others about myself and my world perspective, I have gained insights and been forced to articulate things that I would otherwise not even thought about. In this way, these scholarships offer young people like myself a huge opportunity for growth and self-learning. In whatever way we attempt to give back to Rotary and the community, it cannot match what we have been given.

Annelise Cohon is another Rotary Scholar in Haifa from the United States. She is originally from New York but has lived for several years in Southern California. Last year, she worked for a non-profit organization called Best Buddies, which attempts to match developmentally disabled members of the community with students to form lasting friendships. Annelise brought the idea of Best Buddies with her to Israel and within the first few times that I met her, she had already told me all about it. I agreed to volunteer in whatever capacity she could use me. We began to visit a local center, Nitsan, for the developmentally disabled in Haifa. Nitsan offers a place and a community for people that would otherwise have no other place to feel "normal". We have visited Nitsan once a week ever since, attempting to become part of that community, helping to teach English, develop independent living skills through cooking and computer tutorials, as well as immersing ourselves in social activities including arts and crafts, daily discussion of current events and music therapy. Ultimately, we have attempted to interact with them as friends and not as instructors or volunteers. The experience has been enriching for all of us. And so Annelise, myself and several others have organized a big Chili Fundraiser for the end of this month with the hope of giving a monetary donation to Nitsan, which needs such donations to supplement their public stipend. We are hoping to feed more that 200 people at this Chili dinner, which has been generously sponsored by local Rotary Clubs here in Haifa as well as ones back home in the U.S., including my sponsor club Cedar Rapids Sunrise. With all of the positive support and encouragement we have received over the past few weeks, the event is sure to be a success. I have offered to cook all of the Chili for the event (with help of course). The idea originated out of a large Chili dinner I hosted for all of my friends in Dublin when my parents came to visit and a similar event that Cedar Rapids Sunrise holds for the Make-A-Wish foundation. Wish us luck.

at Nitsan

Hannukah

English Class

Avram and I

Volunteers with Buddies

Yam l'yam (Sea to Sea)

One of the many popular things for tourists, and natives alike, to do in Israel is called Yam l'yam, translated "Sea to Sea" (Mediterranean to Galilee). It is possible to walk from its western-most point (Mediterranean Sea) to the eastern border (Sea of Galilee) in only 3 days, which really gives a sense of how small this country is. It is roughly 60 kilometers of walking or about 40 kilometers as the crow flies. We knew that it would be difficult to make the hike in just three days and that four would be more reasonable, but being five young men, (or relatively young in my case) we thought we could make it all right. We packed late the night before we left and took as much food as we thought we needed for a couple of days, hoping to resupply along the way. In addition, because two of our five were religious Jews, we decided to rest on Shabbat. Under strict shomer interpretations of Jewish law, they are not allowed to carry anything and need to spend much of the day in prayer and reflection. We slept just a few hours before waking at dawn and taking the train North to Nehariyya, a small city on the coast of the Mediterranean. We walked to the beach and finally started our trip when we all stepped into the Mediterranean Sea at around 9 am. The first couple hours of our hike meandered through a number of large farms that grow bananas, with huge nets covering the orchards. In the late morning, we finally reached the trailhead and began our hike in earnest. In contrast to what many think is the Israeli landscape, myself included, the Northern part of Israel is verdant and lush. Later in the summer, the hills and mountains of the Galilee will dry out considerably but at the end of the winter, the hills are full of green plants and wild flowers. We began to ascend through the hills, walking along a stream for the whole of the first day. We passed an old Crusader Fort, called Monfort, which sits atop one of the steep hills and looks out over the whole of Galilee. Towards the end of the day, we hiked out of the valley on a very steep climb and found a nice campground overlooking our day's hike, where we would spend the next day. Without tents, we were leaving it up to the weather Gods to treat us well which they did throughout the trip. Yet, up high on the hills of the Galilee it was impossible to avoid the wind and I was able to sleep very little. On Shabbat, we sat around and played cards or read, made a large fire and cooked a big dinner. Since it was Pesach(Passover) we decided to keep Kosher so there was no bread, or noodles or rice. We brought a lot of Matza (enleaven bread), vegetables and fruit. By the end of the hike, I was ready to never see another box of matza as long as I live. Saturday night was spent much like the first, largely sleepless because of the cold wind, compounded by the presence of jackels in the campground. Several times we all woke up when one wandered very close to camp.

Sunday morning, Easter, came and Tucker and I, the only Christians, had a moment to ourselves before we began to hike. This day was going to be much longer than the first as we were going to hike over 20 kilometers, mostly up, to the second highest peak in Israel, Mount Meron. We slept the third night up near the top of the mountain and this time I slept apart from my compatriots in trying to find shelter from the wind as my sleeping bag was the most thin of all. I slept much better this night. We started early the next morning because our last day was the longest of all, compounded by the fact that we hiked a half an hour in the wrong direction at the very beginning of our day. The last day was: (1) full of the most difficult hiking, going up and down the sides of a canyon for nearly three hours making no more progress than a few kilometers, (2) the warmest (around 90 F) and we began to run out of water about half way through because we had been unable to find a place to fill up (eventually, we were forced to ask fellow hikers for water and their kindness did was greatly appreciated) and (3) the worst for our feet which were feeling the effects of the two long days before. All of us had blisters and by the later hours of the day, mere will was keeping us moving. The last few kilometers were spent walking up a road before we saw the Kinneret spread out before us with the last few rays of the day on our backs. We reached the public beach around 8 o'clock, where we promptly stripped to our underwear to take a dip under many watchful eyes. At that point, we didn't care. We hopped on a bus back home which only took about 45 minutes.

It was a great few days without modern technology or the worries and amenities of the world. It was a refreshing reminder of just how difficult life can be without cars, or telephones or microwaves or refrigerators etc. In addition, a place like Israel with such a long and significant history adds a special aspect to such a trip. To think of Christ walking these hills or the Crusaders living in such forts prompts much pondering and makes one especially aware of our connectedness to human history; reminding us that the things we have only read in books happened in the real world as well. Then again, I was very glad to return to my little room and bed where I dreamed of cold beers, air conditioning, fluffy slippers and steaming hot showers.

Beginning

1st Day

Lunch break

Eve of Easter sunset

Shabbat journaling

Midway point

Flowered Paths

Typical stew concoction

At rest on the last day

End

Yom Hazichron LaShoa (Holocaust Remembrance Day)

Each year, eight days before their Independence Day, Israel dedicates itself to the remembrance of the Holocaust. So I thought I might share a few of the experiences of my day. In many places, there are signs with the word "eezcor" which means "Remember". At 10am, a loud siren sounds across the country which stops everyone in their tracks. Cars stop driving, people stop walking, speaking, or eating and sit for two minutes. Throughout the day there are ceremonies in many places which continue on into the night. In the center in which I volunteer, they held a two hour ceremony singing songs and talking about the history of the Holocaust. At the University, a second generation Holocaust survivor spoke of her parents' experiences before they came to Israel and started a family. A large crowd of students gathered to listen to her speak and ask questions. Her father had been placed in a work camp and was in the death hut with terrible dysentery when their camp was liberated by the Allies. He nursed himself back to health before making his way to Romania and then later to Israel where he lived on kibbutzes for the remainder of his life. In one particularly horrific anecdote, the speaker told of two SS guards who were captured by the Allies and interrogated by her father because he was the only one around who could speak German. The Germans had been guards at a death camp where the rest of her father's family had been killed. He asked the Allied troops what they planned on doing with the Germans and then he asked if he could have them to kill for himself. The troops complied and he marched the two Germans out and shot them. Years later, when a reporter asked him how he felt about this act of revenge, he said he felt nothing. Nothing because it was so small, so insignificant.

Later, back in our apartment, my roommates were nice enough to tell stories from their own families past. Shai, a descendant of Polish immigrants, had many stories to tell as three of his grandparents were in camps or ghettoes at some point. One grandmother was in a Polish ghetto with the rest of her family for several years as a small child. On the night before the camp was liquidated, her mother made her stay up very late so that she was very tired and slept through most of the rest of the day. When she awoke, there was no one left. Her entire family was gone as was the rest of the Jewish ghetto. She crawled out under one of the fences, setting off an alarm while she did so, and was shot by one of the guards in the leg who mistook her for a small animal. She struggled to walk for miles before finally collapsing and being taken in by a Parish priest who kept her in a monastery for the duration of the war. Another grandmother was being sent to Auschwitz to be exterminated and decided to try to commit suicide by jumping from the train but ended up living and hiding out in the forests and scavenging for food before somehow making her way to Israel. Shai's grandfather escaped to the forests of Belarus and Ukraine where his and 46 other families tried to avoid Russian and German troops and local residents who would shoot them on sight. At the end of the war, there were less than 20 survivors and his grandfather the only one from his family who had survived.

It is rare to hear of such stories out in the open and this day provides that opportunity. The Holocaust is a topic difficult to broach with many people much of the rest of the year. Yet, it is never far from the consciousness of this country. Being here, I am constantly reminded of this Jewish tragedy. I think it will take generations if not more for forgiveness and healing to take place. Holocaust deniers and anti-semitism will forever threaten this process and I can understand how angry Israeli's become to hear of Ahmedinejad's recent speech at a conference on racism. There is good reason for criticism of Israel on several counts regarding its treatment of Israeli-Arabs and Palestinians in the territories but coming from a man who denies the Holocaust is not acceptable. Israel's feeling of vulnerability and the call for its destruction by its enemies are a constant reminder of how close the Jewish people came to extermination. Most days I read in the newspapers here about the imminence of a nuclear holocaust if Iran were to acquire such weapons. This notion is debatable but considering the Jewish people's recent history it is not unreasonable. Thus, the threat seems that much more real and impending for people living with such a historical memory. In this way, I think Israeli militant and self-reliant behavior is much more understandable. There are some in the Arab and Muslim world that are teaching about the Holocaust and attempting to inform a public which knows very little about it. They believe that understanding the Holocaust is one of the keys to understanding Israel. I think that this is not far from the truth.

One Day in the life of a tourist in Cairo

We stepped from the coolness of the marble-floored foyer into the sunlight of the late morning and made our way toward the heavy of the traffic of Talat Hareb Square, hopped into a cab (without seat-belts like all other taxis in this city), and sped South along the Nile passing some of the lesser hotels and a beautiful white mosque with a giant neon green sign in Arabic. We weaved through throngs of pedestrians, laborers of some sort, as we veered from the Nile and into the depth of the city, the streets becoming narrower, and the crowds more plentiful. I wondered how many traffic deaths occur here each year after narrowly missing a pregnant woman in a head to toe robe complete with a mask to cover her face. After several minutes of standstill traffic we eased onto a large palm-tree lined boulevard which would have been a beautiful view into the distance except for all of the smog which prevents seeing any more than a kilometer or so. After a particularly harrowing bit of driving which seemed much too fast for maneuvering in and out of unmarked lanes, amongst lorries, cars and buses of all types and sizes, and just missing pedestrians hurrying across the street, the first pyramid rises out of nowhere. It is hidden by a particularly shabby apartment building until you are almost on it and then it is impossible to avert your eyes. We exited the taxi, dropped the money on the passenger seat as is the Cairo custom and walked quickly the other way while the driver yelled after us. And then came the tourists, the Westerners, and lines and photographs and litter, sand, the desert and sun while the pyramids, patient as ever, are unmoved by all of the hubbub at their feet. The Sphinx, their guardian, watches a putrid Giza, full of more tourists, and more venders, and litter and photographs, surely wary of what has happened over the last 50 years. This city of 20 million has spread out and drawn in the population from the countryside as the rural lifestyle is no longer sustainable and people from every corner of this country come here to find a way to live. The day will come soon when the ancient pyramids are surrounded on all sides by Cairo and at last lose their link to the desert.

Two English teenage girls wearing miniskirts and sports bras pass and I think they seem even more out of place than the pyramids. Almost all women wear a head scarf and many have chosen or are forced to put on the restrictive burqa. We lunched at a buffet restaurant with hundreds of Italian retirees and for a moment the power comes on and the air conditioners begint to whir above us--heaven. It is hard to think how this place is bearable in summer. We haggle over the price of a horse and camel ride, threatening to walk out, the price comes down, threaten again, lower, and it seems to me like a ridiculous script that each has memorized the words to but must recite in order to get to the same conclusion every time. Finally, riding into the desert, trotting then galloping so fast I feel a little crazy with adrenaline and on the top of the ridge overlooking the pyramids, the city and the sliver of desert remaining to the South there is silence--no cars, no tourists, no buses, just a few moments of calm before the call to prayer beckons us back into the city. This time, I'm on the camel, with the boy, our guide, riding through a poverty-stricken neighborhood, whole families sitting on the doorstep. Mothers cover their faces as we pass and I see three boys looking at a comic book, pointing at the pictures and an old woman, her feet too swollen to walk on a mat proferring a hookah for passersby. The old Giza cemetary is behind her, waiting, and the pyramids in the distance but she smiles at us anyway. Maybe because he is just a boy but the tour guide hides nothing and rides this path daily for all to see and just like the rest of this city is unashamed. Cairo is nothing if it is not open and honest.

Another cab and more traffic, a golden mosque opposite a canal with sewage and little boys on a motorbike waving and smiling, riding on the sidewalk. Then we turn onto the highway and pass the largest housing development I have ever seen. Red brick buildings for miles on end where millions must live and each is still under development, one story on top of another, then along the Nile again, the Marriot, Four Seasons, and Hyatt rising elegantly if not somewhat ridiculously beside the squalid buildings to their left and right. Along the waterfront, young couples canoodle out the view of their parents and neighborhoods, never kissing, but always talking closely, leaning on each other and touching hands. Then turning away from the river we move into the neighborhoods of metalworkers, steel and scrap everywhere, men with black hands and faces, sitting outside enjoying the cool moments at the end of the day, sipping tea, smoking cigarettes. The woodworkers come next, raw lumber protruding onto the street, tables and chairs, cabinets waiting for delivering and thoughts of my Father enter my mind. A girl, unscarfed, flies a golden kite in a busy square, her hair whipping in the wind. Finally, the shoe district and store after store for blocks of shoes of all colors, types and sizes all displayed for everyone to see. There are many shoppers. Close to home now, and we pass one of the many policemen, black uniformed, we have seen on our corner, on every corner, sitting, standing, waiting, praying, smoking, then the marble floor, the rickety elevator, the nostalgic paintings of Arabian days and nights long gone, key in keyhole, head on pillow.

Policeman on Camel

typical Cairo traffic

Tucker's Camel's name was Michael Jackson

poor neighborhood in Cairo

1st Mosque built in Cairo in the 9th Century

Ottoman Mosque

Amman

Tucker, Rikke and I combined for another weekend adventure to Amman a few weeks ago. Rikke, my Danish friend, in case you don't read every one of these, went on an organized tour of Jordan several years ago to visit NGOs working towards peace in the Middle East. While there, she met a young man named Mohammed (go figure). They became quick friends and so she had wanted to visit him this year and used Tucker and I's enthusiasm for visiting Amman as a good excuse. On the plus side for us, we got a free place to stay and a great tour guide in Mohammed. Tucker and I left Haifa at noon on Thursday, arrived to the border around 330 though it is only about 50 kilometers from Haifa. This is due to the fact that there is not one direct way to cross the border. No buses even go to the border crossing. It is incredible that two countries that share so much border have so few opportunities for interaction. Neither Jordanians nor Israelis are very keen on travel to the "other" side. Both have fears of violence directed at them and feelings of discomfort which might be well founded across that imaginary line. It took a couple of hours to go through the border crossing itself which included an hour to wait for a bus to drive us literally 100 yards across a bridge. They will not allow you to walk. We then hired a cab once in Jordan to drive us the two hours to the capital city if Amman, population 2 million.

Immediately upon entering the Jordanian countryside and the small towns there, a distinct difference is apparent. The first thing noted is the poverty and neglect of the Jordan Valley. The infrastructure is not nearly the standard that we are used to in Israel and then the dress and architecture also set this place off from only a few hundred yards across the Jordan River. The taxi driver, though, had blue tooth in his car and a flat screen dvd player for a rearview mirror. Not something that we have ever found in Israel. The driver told us that he was a language teacher and a college graduate but that he couldn't provide for his family that way and decided to become a cab driver instead. We took a short cut through the large hills that line the valley and riding up and down the steep one lane road at much too fast a speed was making us all a little queasy until Rikke demanded that he slow down. He laughed and gave Rikke a hard time for much of the rest of the trip.

We arrived to Amman around 8 pm (an 8 hour trip that only took us about 100 miles as the crow flies). We met Mohammed and his friend Mohammed. Not joking. We went to a restaurant in one of the very modern neighborhoods that has a pedestrian mall where a lot of the more affluent crowd likes to spend their evenings. We ate a very large meal at one of Mohammed's favorite restaurants which only cost about $30 for all five of us. We then walked around the corner to a coffee shop and smoked hookah/nargila/shisha (pretty much the national past-time in Arab countries), talked and sipped Arabic coffee (where the grounds remain in your cup and you let the coffee sit for a few minutes to allow the grounds to settle at the bottom, making for very strong coffee). We returned to Mohammed's 3 bedroom apartment in which his family used to live. He is the only one that still remains in Amman as his brother has moved to Portland, Oregon, his father to the south of the country while his mother has moved to Syria to live with her new Iraqi husband who cannot get a visa to live in Jordan. Mohammed comes from an upper middle class family, is a 26 year-old computer engineer working for an international company and speaks perfect English which he apparently learned entirely from movies.

We fell quickly asleep even with all of the caffeine after such a long day of travel. In the morning, we ate a small breakfast and quickly headed toward the Old City where we hoped to do some shopping in the large bazaar. We walked around all day, stopping into a variety of stores and restaurants and coffee shops. The whole day we didn't see one tourist, which is a strange thing being so used to tourists in this part of the world. We got lots of strange looks and a lot of smiles. The market was mainly populated by men and the women that were there were covered much more fully than the women we had seen elsewhere in the city. Mohammed told us that this area was one of the poorest areas and consequently one of the most religious. For dinner, we had the pleasure of dining at a restaurant built during the height of the Pan-Arab movement which still retains some of this influence until today. The decor seemed an idealized version of the Arabia of old and thus is frequented by many tourists though the business continued to attract customers from all aspects of the city. We ate another huge meal for far too cheap and headed back to Mohammed's.

On Saturday, Mohammed took us around Amman to see some of the landmarks, one of which was the new Mosque built in memory of the late King Hussein. The mosque was immaculate and whiter and cleaner than any mosque I have ever seen though I feel like it is underused because of its location so far away from residential neighborhoods. But the view from the top of the hill on which it is built is breathtaking. We got our own private tour from a couple of custodial staff, but before we were allowed in, Rikke had to wrap a black shawl around her head which she didn't like considering Tucker and I needed to extra clothing thrust upon us but she bore her indignation silently. Later that night we went and smoked hookah/shisha/nargila again and spoke with Mohammed about the politics of the Middle East and especially the Arab-Israeli conflict for a long time. It was kind of refreshing to hear the completely opposite perspective from what I get in Israel and found myself agreeing with him on several important points though obviously not everything. It is amazing how dominant the competing arguments are in this dialectic. I find it is very difficult to argue with either side on the basic tenets of their arguments as they are each very well versed in their own particular argument. The difference mainly comes down to history and morality and within each viewpoint, everything they argue makes sense. As I have said in other posts, it is difficult to share some common ground here, to walk the tight rope between the two because this is a much more ideologically tenuous place where one must be critical of each and accept that the starting point for one might be invalid or inconsequential for the other.

Yet, I also find that simplistic explanations such as that two opposing sides have been polarized and are unwilling to find some common ground, captures very little of the truth and complexity of this region and conflict. Truly, it is hard to distinguish between what is a consequence of the conflict and its causes because so often they are the same after more than 60 years of violence and antagonism. And yet, sometimes I think we see the conflict and division where it does not exist in the first place and thus it is conjured and reinforced where it is other factors like culture, history, or socioeconomics at work. So maybe the mere fact that I stress this conflict in these postings and in how I view this region, I am calling up division and conflict in many places where it does not exist or not to such a high degree, thereby reinforcing such notions in the minds of many. Sorry if that was a bit obscure but I thought I should try to get some of my thoughts or fragments of thoughts down.

Next time... Cairo.

Amman Old City

Balcony Coffee Shop

Lunch Restaurant where the second floor was 4 feet tall

Rikke

Mohammed

King Hussein Mosque

Reading the Koran in the mosque (they had English translations)

Hussein Mosque at sunset

Jerusalem and the Negev II

So we are nearing midterms in the semester and I realize I haven't posted about the second semester at all and it has be two months since our trip to Europe. This semester, if you can imagine, has been filled with travel even moreso than its predecessor. On top of this, we have a couple of weeks of break coming up in which more travels are planned. I am doing everything that I possibly can before I leave because it might be a long while before I can just hop on over to Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, the Sea of Galilee or for that matter walk down the mountain to the warm waters of the Mediterranean.

So I want to say here and now that Jerusalem is far and away my favorite city in Israel. It's not the religious thing or the mix of cultures or how old it is or how important it is to nearly half the world. It's that you can walk everywhere. Living on the top of a mountain in Haifa doesn't allow us to walk, well, pretty much anywhere in Haifa. The University is the last thing before Carmel National Park begins so we have to take a 45 minute bus-ride just to get to downtown. It should take about 10-15 minutes but since all of the roads are a series of switchbacks down the mountain and the traffic is terrible, it is a mind-numbingly long trip. Jerusalem, on the other hand, is flat and easily walkable. On my most recent trip, I attended a Idan Reichal concert, whose band is made up of musicians from all over the world and play what can only be described as "world" music (lots of drums, no one wears shoes, and lots of dredlocks). Really a very good band, though. We went for free on a ticket sponsored by MASA, a group dedicated to continue the "in-gathering of the exiles." Which really means that there were about 7,000 American-Jewish college students on vacation in attendance. It was a rather interesting experience.

Tucker and I stayed with a friend, Rikke, for the next few days and walked everywhere we possibly could: the Old City, downtown, cafes, bars, falafel shops, markets, East Jerusalem and even walked around the Old City on top of the ramparts and outer walls. It was especially interesting to see down into all of the backyards and alleys, schoolyards and into homes. It is easy to forget in the hustle and bustle of the markets that some people still live in the Old City and their ancestors have done so for centuries. We made a concerted effort to walk around the Muslim Quarter which has a very different feel than its counterparts. Then we proceeded into East Jerusalem and ate a large Arab dinner at a very nice hotel that was full of Arabs and Swedes (no idea why). The line is very clear where these neighborhoods begin and end. No one needs to tell you, it's impossible to all of a sudden walk into a Muslim neighborhood and not know it. The people dress much differently and everything is written in Arabic and you hear Arabic being spoken. On top of that, the smells are rather different as is the food and there are no American brands or chains at least from what I could tell. We were a rather conspicuous group so there was a lot of staring involved as well: two six foot plus Americans and Rikke, our Danish friend, whose facial piercings and bright blond dredlocks make her stick out pretty much anywhere and East or West, Jewish or Muslim, there is no shortage of gawkers when she walks by.

The next weekend, the International School organized a trip to the Arava Desert which is located just North of Eilat and part of the larger Negev Desert. 80 international school students spent a night sleeping under the stars on some rocky ground just beside a row of mountains to the West. The weather was beautiful: hot and sunny so the hiking was great. We grilled all sorts of meat the first night and ate smores and sang songs around a giant campfire. We were forced to sign up for half-hour night watches (who we were watching out for I have no idea but one of the guides told a few stories of Egyptians coming across the border) and I signed up last so I got the 330-400 shift. The upside was that I was having a hard time sleeping anyway so I stayed up, read by the fire and got to watch the sun rise over Jordan in the desert. The third day we spent on the beach in Eilat enjoying the warm water and sneaking into the 5 star hotels to steal some of the "good life" in their flower or crown-chaped pools with fountains galore.

The last thing I want to say is that I am proud to report, for those of you who don't already know, that the Irish Rugby national team won the Six Nations Grand Slam this year for the first time since 1954. I was able to watch a number of the games, the first of which was when we were in Dublin, although I missed the last one against Wales where it came down to a last second kick to decide the winner. Go Irish!

Greek Orthodox proceeding from their Cathedral in the Old City

I think Che would have liked this shop in East Jerusalem

Muslim Quarter children playing in the street

Tucker, Rikke (pronounced Rega), and I. Gilded Dome of the Rock in the background.

In the Old City Wall

Looking out over the Negev (Jordanian Mountains in the distance)

Dublin and Paris

Hello Again,

I apologize for the length between the last entry and this one. It has been a month and a half and there is much to tell so I'll split a couple of them up over the next week. The first topic to address is our (Rommates: Tucker, Adam and I) trip to Europe over our semester break. We spent two weeks mooching off of friends and sleeping on floors in order to enjoy the best that Europe has to offer.

The first stop was Paris, where we spent 4 days staying at a friend's parents' house in the suburbs. The Ganem-Rosens, a family with Jewish/American/Tunisian background lives in a very quaint little suburb only a 20 minute train ride from the center of the city. Their lovely daughter, Miriam, is a great friend of ours who attended Haifa University with us last semester. The Ganem-Rosens were more than hospitable, providing beds (a luxury when traveling like we were), hot meals, hotter showers and lovely evening conversation around the dinner table. Shira, the mother, even provided us with a ride, after an interesting battery-jump episode, to Versailles during the obligatory transportation worker strike. If you visit France and avoid all such socialist-inspired strikes, consider yourself lucky. Adam and Tucker had never done much or any sightseeing in Paris so we hit up all the biggies: Eiffel Tower, Sacre de Couer, Arc du Triomphe, Notre Dame, Versailles, Musee D'Orsay, the Latin Quarter, and miles upon miles of lovely wintry streets in the center and suburbs of Paris. I had seen all of these things before but I adored them just as much as the first time. I truly believe that Paris is the best city for a tourist in the world. My only wish would have been to spend more time finding all the nooks and crannies of the idiosyncratic neighborhoods and areas of this city. Alas, it'll have to for next time.

We arrived in Dublin on a traditional rainy day and proceeded onto the University College Dublin sports center for me to reunite with my old squash team for the biggest tournament of the year. My legs and lungs were a bit rusty but I am happy to report that the UCD "A" team captured the Intervarsities for the second straight year after losing it for the 10 previous to crosstown rival Trinity. The weather proceeded to turn rather nasty and it began to snow and accumulate on the ground for the first time in 10 years. Global warming, what a crock? Just kidding, Dad. I am so happy we got to experience this rarity yet it made the trip a bit more difficult as we were snowed in on our flight back to France and were forced to spend an extra 5 days in Dublin. I know, woe is me. We got the opportunity to watch Ireland beat France in rugby in the Six Nations tournament at a loud and drunken Irish pub. An amazing experience for anyone. Go Irish! The rest of our trip consisted of seeing many of the tourist attractions Dublin and surrounds have to offer including the Guinness factory, the Jameson Distillery, Kilmainham Jail (wonderful!), Trinity College, St. Stephen's Green, the the Wicklow Mountains. As you will see in the pictures, I ain't lyin' about the snow. The rest of the time, I was able to show Adam and Tucker much of the Dublin (places and people) I came to know and love last year.

Overall, it was a wonderful trip which also included: watching Adam get into a snowball fight with three 10 year-old girls (it's still up in the air who won), Tucker wearing a blanket as a dress to stay warm in the mornings, three strapping, cocky Americans trying to push a car up a driveway in paris and failing miserably, many arguments over directions and politics, and maybe a pint or two.

Peace,
Nick

Ganem-Rosen Paris home

Crepe action

Merry-Go-Round with Notre Dame in the background

Tucker & Adam

Sacre de Couer on a beautiful day

Tucker's Dublin skirt

Pouring our own

Nothing like a fresh poured Guinness

The Irish call this weather- "Shite."

That didn't stop us though

Napping

Glendalough

A truly converted republican