A Labyrinth

Holy moly, my big brother is engaged. To be married. My pizza face, snot nosed, pigtail pulling brother. The one who used to practice his karate moves on me. Ok, so we grew up a bit. But still. Its crazy and awesome. Not only did my brother find a super sweet, interesting, smart, cool girl but she even said yes! I am so happy to finally have a sister and so happy that my brother has found his other half.

There is one unfortunate side effect to this joyous event and it’s “soon by you.” About 70 percent of the time that people say, “congratulations” they follow it up with “soon by you.” STOP IT. Really, please, stop. I know. You mean well. It’s what people say, you weren’t even thinking.

I pray with this mouth, so I won’t ever respond how I want to when you say that but I wont say thank you either.

Why?

Firstly, you are making a big assumption that I want to get married. It happens to be that someday I might. Probably not soon. But most importantly, you are taking the focus off my brother’s joyous event, which gives me great happiness, and retraining it on to what you are assuming is greatly lacking in my life. I happen to love my life right now. I like to focus on the great things I have, like my job, my friends, my independence, my health and my kick ass collection of patterned tights. When you say, “soon by you,” you make me focus on what I don’t have. Which is really unhelpful. I took a poll of my single friends who have siblings getting married and we all hate it. So please, please, stop.

And stop saying it to the childless woman whose best friend had a baby, stop saying it to someone who is job hunting, stop saying it at all.

(There is one exception. I have a good friend who I have an, “if we are still single at blah blah age, let’s have a baby making partnership” and he wrote to me, “soon by us, either separately or together.” You, my darling, are brilliant.)

Read Full Post »

Today was the day I spent July 4th in Rome. It shouldn’t have been so weird since I spent the last two in Israel, but in Israel I was surrounded by enough ex-pats that I still felt the significance of the day. In Rome I really felt nothing. It made me think about how much ceremony and physical symbols change the way we feel and think.

We had another lovely breakfast with Stephano and planned our day. He explained to us how to get to the metro from our B&B (we had only taken buses until then) and we headed towards the coliseum stop. Stu was excited to take the train. As an urban planner, he really likes to understand the transportation systems in every city. Well because Rome has so many ruins, the train stops really are around the city center and none of them quite go inside, making it less convenient than the buses. However, the Coliseum is right there when you get out at that stop.

The Coliseum is pretty darn impressive. Jewish slaves brought by Titus after he destroyed and sacked the second temple built the Coliseum (according to our tour guide, another lovely Stephano, we should have gotten in free because our ancestors built the place). Stu and I opted to skip the line and pay for a tour. For €25 we got tickets and tours for the Coliseum and the Forum. I highly suggest doing a deal like this. But try to get a tour that doesn’t use headphones, they are smaller groups and more personal. A good tour guide will make your visit, I know ours did.

We learned that professional gladiators rarely died in fights. Like contemporary athletes they had trainers and sponsors. The sponsors considered the athlete their investment and would be really pissed off if their investment got himself killed. So who died? Prisoners, criminals and animals.

The Coliseum is named after a colossal statue of Emperor Niro that used to be right outside. It was recycled. The later Romans and the Christians looted all the sites and took marble, precious metals and building materials for later buildings.

The forum was also really neat, but we wouldn’t have understood anything if it hadn’t been for our cute Canadian guide. She told us the myths of Romulus and Remus who started Rome and about the castle that was added on to by successive Emperors. The Emperor had his own private stadium to play track and field games with his friends (guess who always won?). Mussolini also built a house on the hill to connect himself to Rome’s great Emperors. It is now used as a museum, but you can still see the fascist eagle crest. The forum itself was downtown Rome once upon a time. It was where the shopping, business, religious and civil activities took place. It was very impressive and very hot! We saw the Arch of Titus and mourned the ransacking of our beautiful holy temple by taking happy pictures in front of it. Take that Titus! We are Israeli and touring the world!

Then we went to the dairy half of the restaurant we ate at the night before and I had the best pizza of my life. Crunchy thin crust, amazing cheese (no sauce), fried veggies (peppers, zucchini and eggplant) and the best olive oil. Stu got a fish one, which turned out to be lox on a thin crust pizza, but it was also delicious (we both agreed that mine was better).

Next we went to Trajan’s column, passed by the Trevi fountain (it was super hot and crowded there) and rested in a park by the Quirinale. Once we regained some strength we peeked in a nearby church, filled out water bottles by the Church of the four fountains, checked out the courtyard of the Barbarini palace and walked to meet up with Shmuel at his creepily modern hotel.

The four of us ate at Ba’ghetto meat together. Shmuel treated us to a great Chianti. Then we walked around a bit and barely made the last train home. But we did. Good trip karma came to our aid in our hour of need.

There were no fireworks.

Read Full Post »

One of the reasons I carefully selected Stu as my travel buddy, is that he is an early riser. We are a rare breed. So we woke up around 7am, showered and dressed. We were downstairs by 8am for Stephano’s amazing breakfast spread. There were cheeses, croissants, jam, cookies, fruit, tomatoes, the best red orange juice ever, a cappuccino machine, cereal and more. I quickly became accustomed to a breakfast of bagel crackers, spreadable cheese, tomatoes, coffee and juice. Stu dabbled in various things. Stephano sat with us after breakfast to review my itinerary for the day and give us suggestions. Stu sat quietly, grateful that I talk enough for the two of us. (Another reason we like Stu, he lets me do the talking. Oh and he likes maps, so he did the navigating and I got to space out.)

After our powwow with Stephano, we headed out to the Pantheon. Smartly, we didn’t fall prey to the hawkers of €10 tours or €6 audio tours and found a small machine on the side which was installed by the state. For €2 we got a full explanation of the building, which was fabulous. It has been continually occupied for 1800 years! The Christians, who changed it from a pagan temple to a church, used to think that it didn’t rain through the hole in the ceiling as some kind of miracle. Actually they lit so many candles inside that it evaporated the rain before it reached the ground. When the Romans built it, they made the floor on a slight slant and put holes in strategic places so the water would run down into the underground rivers.

Next we went to the Piazza Navona. It’s a beautiful square with two lovely fountains, a stunning church and the Italian parliament building. It is a huge oval that used to be a Roman horse-racing track. We sat down on the curb in the shade to catch our breath and a choir formed around us. It was really beautiful. I filmed it, but later deleted it by accident. We walked to the end of the square and wandered into the Brazilian embassy where were got a personal tour of the photographs of work by a minimalist Brazilian architect, Paulo Mendes Da Rocha. It was interesting (and free).

After that, we went to the Campo di Fiori square where they have a farmers market. I bought a ravioli maker for my parents and a cute wallet for me. (Stephano commented on it later. Gay or European ended up being one of my favorite games on this trip.) I also got my brother cool kitchen gadgets that he will need youtube to figure out how to use. The salesman was hilarious.

Palazzo Spada was our next stop. Here we discovered free bathrooms! We also paid to see the optical illusion hallway there. I highly suggest it to all who visit Rome. There was a large collection of paintings in the palace and we wandered through and also took advantage of the chairs and the cool temperature. Rome is really really hot in July. We wandered around after, looking for a park to rest in. We weren’t very successful and ended up back at Palazzo Spada to take advantage of their restrooms.

For dinner, we were supposed to meet Shmuel and his cousin but with limited Internet and no phone plan, we didn’t manage to catch each other. Stu and I went to a delicious restaurant called Ba’Ghetto and got pasta (turns out Shmuel and his cousin ate there an hour after we left). Because Stu doesn’t like to make decisions, he got my second choice and we shared (my mother considers this grounds for a marriage proposal). After dinner, we went back to the B&B and went to bed. Neither of us are big partiers when we travel.

Read Full Post »

When Shmuel messaged me that he was going to be on my flight and would give me a ride to the airport, my nervousness subsided, I thought, “for sure this is a sign of good trip karma.” With no traffic, we arrived at Ben Gurion airport around 5pm for our 7:30pm flight. Stuart arrived shortly after. As soon as we approached the check-in line, I realized that I should not have doubted Murphy. He is all-powerful. Our flight was delayed. After about an hour, we heard the ridiculous reason why; some idiot crashed an airport vehicle into our plane. It made the Israeli newspapers the next day. Shmuel and his cousin decided to crash a wedding in Tel Aviv that night in the meanwhile and Stu and I decided to spend the evening in the airport. We used one of our food vouchers and I treated us to mini bottles of booze from duty-free. We slept on the floors. At least Ben Gurion is a beautiful airport.

The flight left at 4am, getting us groggily into Rome around 8am. Stu and I arrived at our Bed and Breakfast about 10am. After our wonderful host Stephano tried to feed us, we convinced him we just wanted to sleep and that’s what we did for a few hours. Our room was fantastic. The apartment had two rooms; ours had two beds (Which Stephano graciously offered to push together for Stu and I, which was absolutely not what we wanted. This would turn out to be a theme, everyone was sure Stu and I were together. My mom wishes it were true.) Our room had a little porch and there was a kitchenette dining room, and a beautiful bathroom.

Thankfully, the reservations I made for the Vatican weren’t till 3:30pm. Stephano helped us figure out how to get there and after getting a little lost around Vatican City (which meant we got to check out St. Peters from outside), we found the Vatican Museums. I was a bit nervous about using the student tickets I bought for the Vatican but they didn’t even check. The place is huge! I saw Laocoon and his sons, Michelangelo’s favorite Greek statue, the map hall, Raphael rooms (The School of Athens!), tons of great modern art and finally, the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo’s great masterpiece. It was everything it is cracked up to be. The figures looked as if they were about to fall out of the ceiling.

In the chapel we bumped into a girl we know from college, who was traveling with her parents. It turned out to be a very lucky accident because you can only go from the Sistine Chapel to St. Peter’s Basilica with a tour guide, something they had, which we did not. So we followed them on in and were not disappointed, there in front of me was Michelangelo’s pieta. He completed it when he was 23! It is possibly the most perfect, moving sculpture, I have ever seen. And yes, it may be a depiction of Mary with a dead Jesus over her lap, lamenting his sacrifice, but for me, it was any mother mourning her son, and it is stunning. Trust me, don’t die without seeing it. Although, it may make you feel like you have accomplished nothing compared to the great artist. Or perhaps that is just me.

After we left the Basilica, we sat in the square and ate kabanos and crackers. It was the perfect meal for the moment. When we got out of the Vatican City we stopped in what would turn out to be the cheapest gift shop in Rome. I bought zebra print knockoff sunglasses that I had been looking for since I saw my friend in designer ones. They cost me 2€. My friend broke his designer ones. Mine are still awesome. ☺

Our good trip karma, once again, was short-lived when we had to wait about half an hour for a bus, which meant we didn’t get back to our area till two minutes after the super market closed. So we bought coke at an ice cream place and went back to our B&B and had food that we had packed. Thankfully, we were much more tired than hungry and we were both grateful for a nice bed to rest our heads on (separately).

Read Full Post »

There was a wise woman in the village. She called me to her home to give me advice.

She said to me, “there are things you must know, there are ways to use what you are given, and if you remember what I tell you, you will grow and blossom.”

The woman had wrinkles all over her face and her hands. Each wrinkle was filled with the wisdom of years and experiences. They say she has traveled to every corner under a vow of silence, a vow of listening, and only when she returned to the village did she begin to speak again. No one knows when she was born, it is not recorded, and it is only known that she is very old. When I touched her arm, it felt like tissue paper that had been crumpled and reused to wrap a new present, giving the pleasure of opening a secret again and again.

She said to me, “do not forget about your guts. Your guts are the source of your humor.” She chuckled, “do not eat too many beans. You will feel pain. But the pain in your gut builds and then releases in spurts. You will feel relief when it passes. Pay attention to your guts, they are your direct connection to nature.” Her eyes gleamed with the pleasure of her joke.

Then she winced and continued, “but, oh, the pain of the heart! It begins sharp and becomes dull, lasting. It always leaves a scar. The tissue is sensitive. Protect your heart from cruel hands. If it is bruised and abused too often it will become fearful, and a terrified heart is useless. But an unemployed heart is worse, the muscle with atrophy if it is not used.”

“Your brain is quite clever. So clever it will convince you that your other faculties are unworthy in comparison. Do not over value your brain. It is an arrogant organ that covets the oxygen of your other intelligences. Exercise it often, challenge it and when it is confused, do not be afraid to listen to other parts of you instead.”

“Your soul speaks softly. It is so humble that it has no physical form. This also makes it most powerful. Listen closely; your soul is your connection to God. He speaks to every soul, but most bodies are too distracted by the noise of the world to hear. Find the silences, there you will find God.”

She continued, “and never never ignore your brothers and your sisters. They too have four intelligences. They too, can teach you the world. Speak to every one as your equal. Where you lack, they may excel. When you travel into their world, you may better understand your own. And what more can a person want, than to understand their world?”

The wise woman took my hand. She kissed my cheek. I hoped the pores of her crepe paper skin leaked some of her spirit into mine. She told me, “go see your world my daughter. But listen to it too.”

Read Full Post »

They tell me Prince Charming’s horse is a mighty black steed who runs like the wind and has no fear. The man that guides the horse is an expert, moving with ease, controlling the wild beast with the slightest movements of his strong, agile body.

He is late.

Oh, I know what you are thinking; typical male, always late, disappointing the girl, but that is not what happened. You see, the horse was showing off how well he could jump, in order to look graceful to a passing filly and, well, he sprained his ankle. The valiant Prince left the steed with a local farmer, hoping to return to collect the animal later.

Having left the house in a haste to come after me, he forgot his wallet and had no money for a new horse or a train ticket. So he is walking. Stupid horse.

Well, actually, he is running. He really wants to meet me. But you see, since he is now a pedestrian, his clothing is not quite as bright or soft as it used to be, in fact, it looks quite… well… pedestrian, these days.

He relies on the generosity of others for housing and lodging when his ingenuity fails and he is not able to work in exchange for his basic needs. His thick black hair could use a good conditioning. His olive skin could use a good scrubbing. But he is walking, no running. He really wants to meet me.

I would go out to meet him half way but I am not sure what direction he is coming from and he doesn’t seem to have my cell phone number. Sometimes, I think I have found him and I invest my energy in the man who seems to fit his description but each time it turns out to be a case of mistaken identity.

While I wait, I grow older, more anxious and lonely. I want to be in my best shape when he arrives. I am trying to be someone that would impress him. Its exhausting and I could really use the support of a tall, dark, sexy, supportive, intelligent and charming Prince.

Anyways, I just wanted to ask you for a favor… if you see him on the road, could you give him a lift?

Read Full Post »

Today I was at the University of Haifa to take a Hebrew test and meet with the head of my department about my course load and getting a job. I arrived early so I could buy some pencils and get my bearings. I found the classroom for the test and waited outside. Slowly a crowd of test takers gathered about the door, checking to make sure that their name and identity number where on the sheet of paper posted outside. I soon realized that, not only was I the only English speaker but I was also the only non-Arabic speaker. Although, according to official numbers it is only 20 percent Arabic, the campus felt like 80 percent today. I heard Arabic everywhere. The group was told we could come in and sit down. There was a mezzuzah on the door, and as I kissed it I became uncomfortably aware of my action. What does it mean to kiss a mezzuah in such company? What does it mean to the Arabs that there are mezzuzot on the doors in the University? Was I making a statement? I certainly didn’t intend to. I do it almost out of habit.

I have not settled on any specific political philosophy in Israel but I definitely felt a bit out of my comfort zone today. The truth is, I have been struggling with my Judaism lately. I have let my chavruotot fall to the wayside and I have been praying at home instead of with a minyan, as I had been accustomed to. I even forgot to pray yesterday. Someone recently told me that although women are not required to do commandments that are time constricted they are still required to pray once a day. Prayer is the crux of faith. If you don’t talk to your God then it is not a very good relationship. Communication is paramount. I want to get back in the swing of things and I am hoping once I get a bit settled I can refresh my relationship with God. It is definitely the right time of year for that.

When I met with the head of my department, aside from going over my resume and the coursework, I shared with her my observations about my test-mates. I told her it was really interesting for me to see Arabic speakers in tank tops and jeans. She reminded me that its not just Muslims but Druse and Arab Christians as well that I am seeing around campus. She told me that they do not have any Arab students this year for Art History. She said its hard for a Muslim, because of certain modestly laws, to study art. I shared with her that I am a religious Jew so I sympathize with the difficulties. My department head said that she too is religious and when she went to Bar Ilan for her undergrad there was an announcement made at the beginning of her first art history class that there would be “nudes and idols” shown in the class and that “if anyone was uncomfortable, they could leave now.”

How art and religion can coexist is perhaps as difficult a question as how Jews and Arabs can coexist. Both Judaism and Islam forbid graven images, but what exactly does that mean? I have nudes that I drew and a self portrait I painted in college hanging in my room; is that idol worship? For me, art allows me to appreciate God’s world on a new level. Not just because it pushes me to see the world from different perspectives but also because art exhibits just how many different perspectives on the world there are. Art has an incredible ability to open people up to new perspectives and push audiences to consider topics they would otherwise not give their attention to.

I don’t think art and God have to be mutually exclusive. In fact, some of the best poetry in the world was written about God by the hands of King David. What David understood, that many artists don’t understand, is that in order to be a successful artist you have to not only have something to say but be able to express it well in a way that other people will be able to tap into whatever it is you have to share. This means using comparisons and analogies; the best art subtlety punches you in the face. And the best audiences are the patient who don’t put up their arms in defense, the ones who roll with the punches and come out stronger for it.

Perhaps I can draw from my experiences about art in order to face my new political and religious realities. I am now going to be immersed in a very left wing University and have more contact with Arabs than I have ever had before. I think it is important for me to remember that each one of them is an individual with their own story. I may find that I really like some people, that they have intelligent innovative perspectives on this country while I may find others to be closed and xenophobic. I will try my best to learn as much as I can about the different ways to view our conflict and I am really curious how my perspective will change over the next 2 years. As for my religious challenges, at the end of the day, if I gave up the level of observance I have become accustomed to it would be out of laziness. My faith is strong, I just need to prove it to myself and to God. Laziness is the worst vice and part of the reason I moved was to escape spinning my wheels and to progress. I hope that with God’s help, I will settle in, get a job, make friends, start exercising my mind and my body, and reconnect with what I find so special about Judaism. Mesheneh Makom, Mesheneh Mazal. Change of place, change of luck. Wish me good luck!

Read Full Post »