The moment you've been waiting for, the next edition of pictoral heathen. Tell the kiddies to leave the room.
This was my first view of the West Bank. No, those aren't Palestinians. Those are my colleagues Chet and Eman. He's a theater director from Jersey, and she's a middle school math teacher from Egypt; it's a peace-making marriage, for sure. Yea, those white villas in the background that look straight out of Italy, that's the violent hotspot.
Only my second day, and I had found authentic pita. You actually can buy your own pita grills here; they're as prevalent as hibachi. But hummus is not the topping of choice. That would be oil and zahatar, a green spice mixed with sesame seeds that they give to you in a paper cone, sort of a savory Pixie Stick.
This is my covert shot of American teenage tourists weeping at THE wall. At least I had the decency not to take pictures of the truly devout. For the record, it's no longer called the weeping wall, because Israel finally got its state, so now it's just the Western Wall, so said my tour guide (who was Chelsea Clinton's once, so he must be right). As you can see, that doesn't stop people from crying.
These two monks were praying, or whatever they do, outside the supposed tomb of Jesus Christ. Me, I'm busy taking pictures. I did wait in the line to see the tomb. Others obviously felt moved, falling to their knees to kiss the ground. Me, my only movements were of the internal kind, a growling stomach. Although tasty, zahatar is not filling.
And onto the real religions of Israel: Elvis and gasoline. This station is outside of Abu Ghosh, which bills itself as having the best hummus in Israel; I respectfully disagree. But it does have the best kitsch in the country, including Jailhouse Rock Merlot.
Orthodox Jews just want to have fun, too. Just look at them whooping it up on this sculpture at Caesurea, the best Israelite/Roman/Ottoman ruins in the world. Sometime in the spring, they hold actual horse races in this hippodrome. But for the time being, these guys would have to do.
Last but not least, here's my first dinner at sunset on the Mediterranean. Yup, I said first, meaning there have been more, many on the school's dime. This night, WBAIS bought me goat cheese ravioli in a salmon sauce and two Tuborgs. I was sitting in the foreground, at the PE table; that's Rachelle and Danny, both of whom made aaliyah from England, and Jim, a Stateser by way of Singapore. In the background are Chet and Eman again, sitting across from my superintendent Marsha and Beth, an intern and recent graduate from Boston University who has been my willing bait for adventures with strangers. Together, they make up "The Replacements."
This was my first view of the West Bank. No, those aren't Palestinians. Those are my colleagues Chet and Eman. He's a theater director from Jersey, and she's a middle school math teacher from Egypt; it's a peace-making marriage, for sure. Yea, those white villas in the background that look straight out of Italy, that's the violent hotspot.
Only my second day, and I had found authentic pita. You actually can buy your own pita grills here; they're as prevalent as hibachi. But hummus is not the topping of choice. That would be oil and zahatar, a green spice mixed with sesame seeds that they give to you in a paper cone, sort of a savory Pixie Stick.
This is my covert shot of American teenage tourists weeping at THE wall. At least I had the decency not to take pictures of the truly devout. For the record, it's no longer called the weeping wall, because Israel finally got its state, so now it's just the Western Wall, so said my tour guide (who was Chelsea Clinton's once, so he must be right). As you can see, that doesn't stop people from crying.
These two monks were praying, or whatever they do, outside the supposed tomb of Jesus Christ. Me, I'm busy taking pictures. I did wait in the line to see the tomb. Others obviously felt moved, falling to their knees to kiss the ground. Me, my only movements were of the internal kind, a growling stomach. Although tasty, zahatar is not filling.
And onto the real religions of Israel: Elvis and gasoline. This station is outside of Abu Ghosh, which bills itself as having the best hummus in Israel; I respectfully disagree. But it does have the best kitsch in the country, including Jailhouse Rock Merlot.
Orthodox Jews just want to have fun, too. Just look at them whooping it up on this sculpture at Caesurea, the best Israelite/Roman/Ottoman ruins in the world. Sometime in the spring, they hold actual horse races in this hippodrome. But for the time being, these guys would have to do.
Last but not least, here's my first dinner at sunset on the Mediterranean. Yup, I said first, meaning there have been more, many on the school's dime. This night, WBAIS bought me goat cheese ravioli in a salmon sauce and two Tuborgs. I was sitting in the foreground, at the PE table; that's Rachelle and Danny, both of whom made aaliyah from England, and Jim, a Stateser by way of Singapore. In the background are Chet and Eman again, sitting across from my superintendent Marsha and Beth, an intern and recent graduate from Boston University who has been my willing bait for adventures with strangers. Together, they make up "The Replacements."
5 comments:
When I have a bad day all I need to do is read your blogs....god I miss the Gibbler! It sounds like you are doing well...make sure to keep eating because you will waste away just eating sunflower seeds ;)
God, this is amazing. You seem to be having quite the adventure. Hey, can we call you on your cell and that supposedly works? Was I smoking crack? Did I imagine that?
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