Shall two walk together, except they have agreed? (Amos 3:3)

Just in time for Tim's and my next adventure, to the Balkans, I'm finally getting around to posting pictures of my last trip, sans Tim. Traveling with Tim is a certain type of experience, which I enjoy very much. So it was interesting to see what it was like to have different traveling companions when I went to Budapest, Hungary. Because I took the lead a lot of the time, my co-workers and I did a lot of outings similar to what Tim and I would. But we also made some forays into places that Tim would probably only tolerate.

For example, Tim and I would trek across town to see train stations, like the main international hub Keleti, which in our case was about a block from our hostel:
But we probably wouldn't bail on a whole day of sightseeing to just relax in the park (of course, perhaps if I offered beer ...):

We would wander around the city to take unsuspecting photos of people, like we did at Margaret Island while eating some of the cheapest (and therefore most delicious) ice cream around:
But we probably wouldn't stop on the way back to take such a touristy photo of the sun setting over Buda:

We would make use of public transportation for day trips to take more unsuspecting photos of people, like this one of a little boy getting a horse ride in the artists' haven Szentendre:
But we probably wouldn't be taken in by overpriced touristy garb, like this dyed fabric made in the traditionally time-consuming way for years by the Kovacs family:

We would seek out cultural activities, like watching the old boys' club play chess in the Szechenyi Bath, where tourists and locals mix in the middle of the city park:
But we probably wouldn't consider the Marzipan museum, in Szentendre, a cultural activity, with or without a life-size almond-paste Michael Jackson statue:

We would plan to eat lunch at the food market, like platefuls of sausage at the Central Market Hall:
But we probably wouldn't hunt down a place I saw in a guidebook, even if it does have rustic charm and a true Hungarian name, Paprika:

As much as I harp to Tim that he doesn't let our vacations actually be vacations, as in relaxing, I discovered that I am just as addicted to wandering around a town and venturing beyond its boundaries as he. Perhaps it's time for me to admit that Tim's version of a vacation is just as relaxing, mainly because he is with me.

Thus saith the Lord Jehovah ... I will give you Israel (Ezekiel 11:17)

The other day in yearbook class, I heard one student say to another: "You can't not believe in God and still be Jewish." (I swear, my staff members often have this level of conversation; I've heard better discussion on the U.S. election -- among non-Americans, I might add -- in the last two weeks than I've ever heard on Hannity and Colmes.) The student in question replied, "I'm culturally Jewish." A former co-worker of mine would agree. When one of our mutual colleagues declined a Hanukkah card, declaring that he was a practicing atheist, she told him that he was still Jewish -- by default because of his parents.

I'm not sure what precipitated the discussion in my class, but it was suspiciously close to Yom Kippur, which was the very next day. On that day, a friend and I discussed how little we actually knew about the holiday before we came to Israel. Because of the aforementioned co-worker, I actually knew it was the Day of Atonement; I knew that traditional Jews would fast and reflect at home, except for walking trips out to ask or pray for forgiveness. However, this is the religious American Jew's version of events. If this person were in Israel, he or she would be surprised to see the streets full of families bicycling on the empty streets. Surveys find that two-thirds of Israelis declare themselves as religiously Jewish, in either a conservative or traditional sense (The difference between the two, I gather, involves whether you go to synagogue on holidays and keep kosher). So I have to assume that at least some of these people, at least for this day, are focusing on being culturally Jewish instead of religiously Jewish. At least I hope they are not fasting while out bike riding in the desert sun and heat.

And this, it seems, is part of the crisis of the Jewish State (besides the fact that this official name is not included in any government documents; officially, Israel is the "national home for the Jewish people," not exactly a phrase ringing high with property rights). Some people would prefer to emphasize the culturally Jewish and others the religiously Jewish. In my observations, the latter is more often asserted by immigrants than the people who have been living here since the advent of Zionism, which makes sense considering the fact that the freedom of religion is probably a bigger impetus to leave your home country than the freedom to play paddle ball in Speedo-like underwear.

When American interests insert themselves into issues of Israeli nationhood, this conflict comes to a head, literally. By Israeli law, to make aliyah and therefore get a passport, Jewish identity can be established either culturally, through being born to a Jewish mother regardless of whether she or the child practices, or religiously, through undergoing conversion per Jewish law (read: circumcision). However, an Israeli citizen cannot get married in the country unless the Orthodox Israeli Chief Rabbinate approves. Typically, this means that conversions (circumcisions) done outside the country are not enough all by themselves. As you might imagine, American Jewish movements believe that religious conversions in their country should be plenty to get married, but in an ironic twist, they say Jewish identity should not be established culturally if the parent does not claim Jewish identity.

Are you confused yet? Me, too. Is Judaism a culture or a religion? Yes and yes. As crazy as it seems to have a culture encouraging a horde of training wheels to overtake a six-lane highway, it's even crazier to envison a religion provoking a mob of stoners to attack any wheels of the non-training variety -- all on a single Jewish holiday.