Jerusalem: Preliminary Observations of Foreign Immersion

I’ve been here for about two weeks now, and I have done a bit of writing, but most of my attention has been dedicated to finding a home, which is still where most of my attention is dedicated. While I feel as though I’m skiing along the surface, trying to find somewhere safe to sink in, I figured I’d at least throw out a few preliminary observations of my life thus far: And I apologize - I don't have pictures yet - just gives you something to look forward to ;).

·         I’ll start with the housing aspect that I already mentioned - a somewhat productive yet increasingly unhealthy outlet for my long-repressed obsessive compulsive disorder, which causes me to spend hours perusing websites I can’t read for housing I can’t access. Apartment spaces are being bought up in a foreign market for extremely high prices, which leaves fewer and fewer options for students and the working class. There are dozens of independence-craving young people looking at every space. Every open house is like an interview, or a modern scene from Catcher in the Rye’s matchmaker. As an English-speaking foreigner who’s only here for a short while, I don’t exactly come bearing a highly-coveted dowry.

·         It was a quite sloshy surprise to discover that beer comes in two sizes only: 1/3 and 1/2 of a liter.

·         Schindler was the only Nazi buried in all of Israel. He saved over 1200 Jews through his capital enterprises during WWII. I can see his grave from my office.

·         Living with three guys – really not so bad. They say what they mean; and I have learned to internally repress every natural bodily function, which will be exceptionally useful if I ever decide to become a spy.

·          Keeping kosher – also not so bad…until you forget. And then it gets very complicated.

·         Apparently there are a wide range of wild animals in Israel: a couple of tigers, wolves, deer, hyenas, wayward camels that got sick of the trade routes and decided to hang out in the deserts instead, and an enormous bunny whose closest relative is the elephant and who climbs trees sideways like a crab.

·         The official food of Hanukkah is the doughnut. The holiday celebrates a sect of revolutionary Jews known as the Maccabees taking back the Holy Temple from the Seleucid (Greek) Empire when the Greeks tried to force them to worship pagan gods. When the Maccabees took back the temple, they found enough oil to last them one night; but instead it lasted eight. In celebration of this miracle, the doughnut represents a sponge in which revelers can actually absorb the holy oil into their own bodies. I’m not sure what the sprinkles represent.

·         Harboring generations of exile and oppression, and decades of 4 million tourists annually who stop abruptly out of confusion or reverence of some landmark or another, people here are quite firm about standing their ground. No one says excuse me or moves out of your way. Ever. In the name of assimilation and mobility, I have begun to employ my elbows like a true native. I’d say toddlers and little old ladies beware, but they happen to be my role models for this technique. 

·         Everyone knows their history – but unlike my American history buff comrades from the ultimate frisbee table who debate about Taft, Roosevelt and Hamilton of the last two centuries, my colleagues here walk the Old City, pita in hand, and debate whether Paul was a Roman or a Jew, and when Judaism split from Christianity – arguing about the holy details from thousands of years past that caused monumental shifts rippling across the entire world.

·         The roads, like Mandarin, can only be learned by memorization. They also change names when they curve or reach an intersection, and are spelled differently based on various mapmakers’ interpretations of the phonetic translation. There is no logical layout, and attempts at rational deduction to orient oneself often literally lead to vertigo. 

Map of Jerusalem. The little red box at 2:30 on the map is the Old City - a winding, square-mile walled city within Jerusalem. I got lost there just yesterday, actually. I work at the bottom left-hand corner.

·         The Old City (the original, walled city of Jerusalem) is divided into four quarters: Muslim, Jewish, Christian and Armenian. They each have their own calls to prayer (to an unaccustomed ear, I’d describe the Muslim call to prayer as extremely loud and simultaneously eerie and magnificent), bells, or times and spaces dedicated to prayer - like at the Western Wall (the base of the Temple Mount where according to religious text, God gathered the dust to create Adam, and Abraham bound Isaac for sacrifice. Also the third holiest site in Islam, the Mount has been under Muslim control - ie with the Dome of the Rock - since the 600s. Jews come to pray at the sacred base of this Wall, which is the last piece of the Mount that belongs to them).

·         The best falafel is in the Muslim quarter not far from the butcher with goat heads in the window. It (the falafel, not the goat head) comes in a pita pocket with hummus, French fries, tomato salad, and some sort of spiced salsa and pickled something-or-other. Tahini (pronounced like “teeny,” interrupted by an impulsive affliction of a sneeze or hairball caught in the back of your throat), is drizzled on top. Cobblestones in all quarters of the Old City become VERY slick when it rains.

·         Don’t be fooled by the $2.58 falafel, however. Life in Jerusalem is unG-dly expensive (heh. Sorry – I couldn’t help myself). Especially if you’re foreign – prices are jacked up everywhere if they think you come from money (read – are the offspring of an imperial society).

·         Real estate agents - if they don’t have a home for you, they will try to set you up with a home-owning boyfriend.