Why you come to Israel?

So I went on vacation (aka "holiday," as they call it in the UK) a few weeks back, and managed to tick off one of my "I've gotta go there someday places" : ISRAEL.

Here's a quick summary. I used to rate things on a scale of 1 to 10; I now rate things on a scale of 1 to Israel.

My flatmate and I flew into Tel Aviv to test the legendary night life and holiday-destination beaches. On a scale of 1 to Israel, Tel Aviv was about a 6. Has a great scene, for sure, and the people seemed both 90% laid back while 100% intense. Not friendly at first - you have to take the first step and break through initial barriers - but once you get through that they're pretty talkative, and eager to share their opinion about most anything. Definitely enjoyed the beaches, especially the slight element of danger added by the copious amount of jellyfish swimming in the shallows. You'll invariably walk out with a few stings, but they're not so much painful as just itchy. There's a 500-yard stretch between Tel Aviv and Jaffa, which we termed the "beach tennis" zone. So many people playing beach tennis that, when you stop walking and listen for a minute, all you hear is the cacophony of the rubber ball being batted about. We got a kick out of that. We were actually rather underwhelmed by the night life. Yeah, it's great that everyone parties in this one part of town, so you feel like you're out with *everyone*, but we couldn't manage to find anything particularly unique. In fact, our favorite part of Rothschild Boulevard and Herzl Street was this bit where all these bats hang out. Yeah, bats in the city. Entertaining to see the revelers duck run as the bats swooped between the trees.

After Tel Aviv we hopped over to Jerusalem. Stayed at Abraham hostel, a 15-min walk from Old City. Old City feels like labyrinth from Lawrence of Arabia but occupied by Hasidic Jews. We loved wandering and getting lost - you could ask three people for directions and end up with five different answers. I think we managed to see almost all of it just by getting lost, in fact, but that meant that we did indeed experience the Muslim quarter, which most tourists probably miss because there's fewer distinct destinations in there, and it feels slightly more hostile to westerners (that might be a biased perception though).

One night we found some stairs that led to a public rooftop, and we got up there and felt like we'd stepped into a scene from Aladin. The city stretched out before us, the Dome of the Rock sticking out from the other layers of rooftops, and it seems like you could jump about from rooftop to rooftop from one end of the city to the other. And then you look up at the sky, and there's like 30 kites speckled across the blue, only they're sooooo high that at first glance you'd think they were birds. The kids tie together like five ordinary kite strings, and get them flying way the heck up there - looked like so much fun!

We also did most the normal touristy things in Jerusalem, including the Dome of the Rock, which proved to be less-than-straightforward to actually pull off. It's really beautiful though - the non-dome part of the building is covered with this blue and turquoise mosaic which is just stunning. I thought it completely changed the character of the dome, making it less a bronze Muslim fortress and more a pleasant piece of art.

Going out in Jerusalem is a riot too. They have an abundance of shisa + cheap drinks + free popcorn + free shots bars (admittedly, targeted mainly at tourists), at which we often sometimes joined in with another group. Birthright. Those kids are a laugh. As we were looking for a place to hang on the first night, a girl sitting at the bar (whom we referred to thereafter as "Party Girl") yelled at us from across the street "Are you English!?!" Joe turned on his charm, and we made friends in no time. The best night out, though, was when we met a girl named Ya El. Ya El introduced herself to us because she overheard us speaking english, and she recognised Joe's accent. Turns out she did a year abroad in the UK, which was a great talking point in and of itself, but the super interesting thing about Ya El is that she used to be Hasidic, which is one of the pretty conservative flavors of Judaism. Guys wear the big black hats, girls keep all their joints covered up, etc. But she rejected it, had a massive falling out with her parents, went to the store to buy her first ever pair of jeans at age 21, started drinking and listening to rock music, etc etc etc. We obviously questioned her about why/how/omg-how-hardcore-are-you, and got her fb by the end. She's actually coming to London in a few months, so we get to meet up again!

Coolest tourist site in Jerusalem is Hezekiah's tunnel. Hezekiah was one of Israel's good kings in that period where they were cycling through bad kings every year, and one thing he did was built an underground waterway to supply water to the city in case they were under siege. Nowadays you can actually walk the whole thing, so it's 45 mins of pitch dark with water up to your shins / knees in a 4-ft wide tunnel. If you turn off your light you can't see a thing. Reaaaally cool. Only thing that could be improved upon - and I wrote this the survey I filled out at the end

- would be to add a sense of urgency to your trek. I suggested 1) releasing poisonous snakes into the water every hour or so; 2) slowly raising the water level until it gets up to your head; 3) simulated earthquakes.

Other stuff we did in Jerusalem

** Wailing Wall (aka Western Wall of the Temple)
** Mount of Olives (great sunset)
** Church of the Holy Sepulchre ("fine, fine, we can go see YOUR Sepulchre, Joe" Alleged site of Jesus's crucifiction...yeah right)

** Yad Veshem (Holocaust museum, a must-do)
** Church of Holy Nativity (outside of the Jew zone, meaning just Palestinians there. Sweeping generalization warning. They're nicer than Israelis, in our experience)

We also did a day trip to the Dead Sea. Of course we've all seen the photos of the guys laying in the sea on their back and reading a newspaper, but the real-life sensation is remarkable. As you first wade into the water, first thing you notice is that the "shore" is purely crystallized salt (ouch), and the water feels oily (yuck, at first). When you get up to your waste, you soon feel that your legs want to float up, and by the time you're up past your waist, all you body wants to do is flip on its back. You'd have to fight to resist that position, in fact, so eventually you let go and, plop, you flip over and sit/lay in the water, resting with two inches of your body above water. Weird!

Spent a day down in Elat, which is on the Red Sea, so that we could make it into Jordan. Did get to swim in the Red Sea - clearest waters i've ever seen. I have a mild phoebia of deep water - always imagine a giant monster emerging from the abyss - but managed to forget about it after seeing all the fish.

Last part of the trip was going to Jordan to see Petra (one of the "new" seven wonders, apparently, and site of the famous scene from Indiana Jones Last Crusade). Stunning, to be sure. You're walking through a narrow red canyon, and all of the sudden you come to a clearing with these Greek-style columns carved into the rock...you're like, how did this get here!?

Even better than Petra, however, was spending the night in the Wadi Rum desert. Our tour company set us up with this local dude (so it was just me and Joe plus this other guy ) who's clan/family has lived in the desert since chimps turned into man. I'd say it was the most surreal chapter of the trip. Firstly, the desert itself is stunning. Bright red sand as far as the eye can see, with ginormous mountain formations bursting from the earth - but not all together, just one mountain here, one mountain there. And when you get closer, you notice that they're sort of terraced mountains, which of course is a clear invitation for strapping young lads, like ourselves, to have a climb. We were much obliged to do so.

When it got to be night time, our host, who had only a moderate grasp of the english language, explained to us how he really likes beer, even though he's Muslim (they're not supposed to drink). We agreed with his sentiment. He said he'd already had ten beers earlier that evening. We were impressed. He brought out some beers from his tent. We helped him finish said beers. When it was pitch dark, we laid out in the sand and enjoyed the most silence i think i've heard in years. More silent than I can ever remember, in fact, because there was zero wind and zero insect-noise. Was really powerful and soothing. Then, hilariously, our host pulls out his cell phone and proceeds to call, no joke, about 30 of his friends. For each call, he turns on speaker phone, haha, and for almost every single call there's no answer. Was so surreal, being in such an untouched-by-civilization place, then juxtaposed with his blaring cellphone.

To make the night even more surreal, he says "I don't want to sleep tonight. I want to look for the fox." Look for the fox - no there's no tricks in the phrase, it's exactly as it sounds. So we hop in his truck and drive around the desert for 90 mins, flashing our brights on and off trying to find desert foxes. We asked why the foxes come out in the desert, and he says they're hunting chickens. We hadn't seen any chickens, so we asked where they are. He says there are no chickens in the desert......hmm. We ask how often he actually stays the night in the desert (there's a village at the edge of the desert). Only two or three nights a week, he replies, but he comes out to "look for the fox" every night. It's he and his friends' favorite hobby!

There are of course more stories, more details, more illegal activities and more adventures to tell of, but we'll save that for a face-to-face chat.

post from the past

Wrote this like a month ago. More than that, maybe seven weeks ago, while using the internet in the Old Dispensary, a pub beneath(ish) my flat.

Hello,

Don't think I've written anything here for more than a year, yikes!

What prompts today’s post? Well, last week, one of my buddies from work, San, was screwin around on his computer like he usually does, and I came over to ask him an entirely business-related question, only to find him reading my blog. At first I was like, "San, I always knew you admired me, but this is borderline stalking dude." But then I relented when I glanced a tiny little teardrop running down his face. San, if you’re reading this, I’m glad I touched your heart again.

I recently moved flats. “What’s a flat?” you’re probably asking yourself if you’re from North America. No, it’s not a vast plot of land with zero change in elevation. No it’s not a member of the pile of 80 shoes you find in your sister’s closet. Instead, it’s an apartment – a launchpad from which young twenty-somethings foray into the swirling waters of city life.

The new place is in this part of town called Camberwell. Camberwell is south of the Thames (the main river running through London), and is a stark contrast to Canary Wharf, where I work. I love it. Top 5 Contrasts:

Canary Wharf = suits. About 4000 suits/day. Go ahead, extrapolate and cast judgment.

Camberwell = Pagne (African dresses), hipster scarfs, art-kids glasses and baby strollers. Again, extrapolate and cast judgment.

Canary Wharf = Towering glass skyscrapers, with a big subterranean shopping mall running underneath it all.

Camberwell = “high street” with several nearby Universities (aka Uni’s). What’s a high street? It’s a UK phenomenon - something like a “main street” but you have one for every part of town. There are probably 500 of them in London and they all have general stores, probably a kebab shop or two, and then various other establishments depending upon which part of town it is. Ours has four or five pubs, ten clothing retailers ranging from discount stores to trendier national chains, three launderers, a library, a big supermarket called Morrisons, a crapload of international calling-card booths (a sure sign you have a lot of expats living nearby), and a few meat dudes selling “fresh” fish, beef and other weird African meats that would take a brave Westerner to try.

Canary Wharf = banker bars. One national chain, called All Bar One, has about as much personality as a plank of driftwood. Actually driftwood has more personality, because it at least has a story behind it. The place we often go to is called the Cat and the Canary. It’s alright, still suffers from

Short interruption – I just had to google something very important: “Why do old people smell?” What prompted this slightly rude question? An equally rude observation, I’m afraid. I’m sitting in this pub called the Old Dispensary, and there’s this guy called Tony who comes here every Sunday afternoon. I know this because I come here most Sunday afternoons (to use the internet, new flat doesn’t have it still), and Tony is always here. Problem is, Tony is a smelly old man, so every time he comes back to sit in the chair next to me, wowzahs do I know it! That being said, Tony is something of a pub mascot – he seems to know everyone and will always pop right off of his chair and run over to shake your hand as soon as you walk through the door. The first time I came here to use the internet, I sat in this old leather green chair in the corner, because there’s an outlet right next to it for me to plug in my lappy. About 45 mins later, Tony (whom I don’t yet know) walks through the door, and promptly (but nicely) informs me that I’m sitting in his chair. He always sits in this chair, Tony explains, so not one to rock the boat, I

Oh geez, Tony might have just read this, dangit hahaha. I can’t tell if he did or not – am hoping his eyesight isn’t strong enough, but he was defs reading my computer screen just now.

That concludes today’s post, I’m an awful human being!