Ipods, BO and an Aussie

I think my ipod can knows how I am feeling. Has apple created technology to read your mind? I usually just use my ipod to listen to podcasts of NPR and Savagelove, while I travel on the bus. But lately I have been listening to music all the time. I haven’t had the energy to make many playlists, instead spending lots of time on ‘shuffle’ mode. Lately I have needed to space out on the 45 min ride home, after spending 8 hours staring at a computer screen, trying to make the words come out. When I walked out of the library and slipped on my ear buds, it new exactly what I wanted! Up-beat music to make the walk to the bus stop more enjoyable. In the evening in plays mellow music, and the morning more upbeat? Of course 90% of the time it is going to play something I like, since it is a selection within my music, but there are over 4,500 songs to choose from. Plus a couple dozen research interviews. So far only one of those has come on. Not so fun when you are walking along, bopping to your music, and all of sudden you hear “em.. de Palestinians were never part of dis project…form da beginning. But we tried to convince de Israelians to include them,” in a strong Arabic accent. It takes me back instantly to a world of checkpoints and fresh kaak and shabaab, middle aged men and dusty shoes, argila and tea with mint. Not in a bad way. In a good way. In a homesick kind of way…

I am facing the facts – I am stuck on the Middle East. Things in London are picking up – sometimes there is sun, I have reconnected with friends and things are moving with the big D, but ultimately I don’t want to stay here too long. I don’t want to get lazy. I don’t like the way people here smell. I much prefer the stench of Middle Easterner’s who have not showered combined with the Abu Turki’s pit toilet to the old men here, reeking of stale cigarettes and cheap alcohol. Is that wrong? When I go back I will probably regret thinking it aloud, but when I walk by a homeless man peeing in the alley on my way to the High Street, when the wind changes and I get a whiff I start to feel queasy. I suppose that is a natural reaction.

My 2nd flatmate is back. He was in Spain for over 3 weeks. I didn’t expect him until tomorrow, and wanted to clean a little before his return. Oh well. Now it is the 3 of us together again…

Friday morning. I should be at school by now. 13 days and counting. Good Shabbos.

And the green grass grows all around.

I made it back 'home' to London, safe and sound. And I wasn’t sent to a little room. And my computer wasn’t erased. My luggage arrived with me, and I was not charged for all the extra weight. And the box, with all of my important documents that I sent a week ahead, arrived mostly in 1 piece.

The sherut to the airport was classically Israeli. One of the passengers had the same last name as the driver, so they were immediately best friends. The kippa -clad driver (with an Arabic accent) used this boy as an assistant, to find the addresses of other passengers and organize papers and make phone calls. When we had all the passengers and set out on the new highway, the assistant read the travelers prayer. But he made a bunch of mistakes, so out driver would make him repeat the section. The driver also decided that while driving to the airport would be a good time to buy a lottery ticket. So (the assistant) called someone at the taxi dispatch to mark down certain numbers and go buy a ticket, on our driver’s behalf. The winning numbers would come from calculations based on the number of runs to the airport, number of passengers, the date and passenger suggestions. There were a lot of misdialed phone numbers and handshaking and jokes and ‘baruch hashem’ and pictures of rabbis. You really had to be there, but it was great. I didn’t want to leave the van when we got the airport.

Then came the security screening. For whatever reason I didn’t get a cart so was carrying my big pack and dragging the other bag. When I got up to the lady all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I didn’t really sleep the night before, and was nervous about getting detained. She asked what I was doing in Israel, and I explained I was doing research and visiting friends. Rather than asking me the subject of my research, she asked what friends. So I started naming random people who lived in Israel, and quickly realized I couldn’t remember last names of Arava people. I couldn’t form full sentences in Hebrew, I was acting all nervous, and looking all around. She took my passport and walked away, and I was sure that was it. But a couple minutes later she returned and sent me to check my baggage.

On the plane I sat next to an Arab man from the Galil, who was accompanying a Jewish/Arab soccer team to some international tournament in London. I was so excited to speak Arabic, but again, had trouble with language skills do to lack of sleep. By adding some Hebrew and some English I learned about their soccer club, and was able to explain my research.

This wasn’t supposed to be about traveling back, rather, I wanted to write about being back in London, after over 3 months in the Middle East. I was sad to leave Jerusalem, but looking forward to coming home to my flat and my room and my friends. Our weekly cleaner has been away for a couple weeks, so I came back to a dirty apartment. With 3 men here for the last few months, they grew comfortable with dishes in the sink and the toilet seat up and newspapers everywhere – not anymore. My room is the same, but I haven’t had the energy to hang stuff back up on the walls and iron all the clothes I shoved in bags for storage. And people are all over the place writing and doing their own thing, so it is going to take a lot of effort to make plans and catch up. It’s not like we will see each other in class, or run into each other on the street.

This city is HUGE, and I have been overwhelmed a lot lately. I am used to spending time on my own and being independent, but I don’t know how I did it here before. There are so many people from so many places and everyone is in a rush. I much prefer to slow things down and have quality time. Not talk while I walk and eat a sandwich between appointments (hypothetically). In my first 4 days I had gone to 3 libraries. I wear my ipod all the time, shutting the world out. I tend to keep it on shuffle, and am really excited to hear Arabic or Hebrew songs, especially the ones with associations to a different time and place.

I don’t get it. I thought I wanted to be here, I thought I wanted to be back in the city. But the last couple days haven’t been so great. I hope this is just part of the natural adjustment phase. I will get myself back into a school routine and start seeing people and get distracted.

Wherever I am, I always want to be somewhere else. I have self-diagnosed this problem, and call it "grass-is-greener" syndrome. I need to learn to live in the moment and enjoy where I am and what I am doing, and not what could be. I need to learn not to over-think things. Instead, enjoy things for what they are and people for who they are. Enough with the expectations. And start writing already…

Back over again.

(The King&Queen. Photo credit to the amazing Mazen Zoabi - Youth Delegate Extraordinaire.)

There are some things I will miss, others I am happy to leave behind.

I will miss chicken and rice and salad and yogurt, from Al-Quds restaurant and friend’s houses.
Running into people I know in the library, in University book shops, on the street, right next to Abdali! Americans, Jordanians (one I hadn’t seen in 2 years, since Israel), Germans, Canadians. Being invited to a party by a new friend, only to learn it’s at an old friend’s apartment. Seeing friends who are in love and happy. Shwarma Reem. Tasty Argila. Spending quality time with people. Working on my language skills.

I am happy to leave sleazy men. I am tired of getting honked at for no reason. I wear my undershirt tank tops backwards, hoping that it will cover. Guys that stare me up and down as they walk by. I try to give the evil eye, but they make kissing sounds. I don’t have the energy to go into a tirade of curses when I am in a family neighborhood. But come to think of it, that is the only thing I am happy to leave behind. I will miss the bus system – always getting a seat, and being able to get on and off where I want. I will miss the conversations with cab drivers, about life and love, politics and religion. I am happy to go to a place with fresh milk and more choices of flavored yogurt and coffee and wireless internet, but some of those things are over-rated. I CAN survive without them. But being around nice Jewish men (as opposed to intriguing new Iraqis) is probably good for me.

Back to the Canary Hotel (which no taxi drivers have ever heard of) for one last night, and then over to the other side. Wish me luck.

(I finally brought my camera out with me the other day, but then accidentally erased the pictures. I should be telling stories of Carrefour and dinner parties with Embassy folk and an endless swimming pool with a view of the Dead Sea or Israelis and Palestinians at a cafe downtown, but I don't have the time or energy now. One more pic, of the last thing)

Hello from the Holy Land

It is nice to be back in Jerusalem. The transition has been easier than expected. In my first couple of days wandering I have seen some of the same homeless people in their regular spots, security guards still working at the same cafes, and the same guy near the Jaffa gate, offering tours of Palestine. I ran into someone I knew at the baggage claim as soon as I arrive to Ben Gurion - it's amazing how many people I run into in this country. (And I got my 3 month visa with little-no struggle, thanks to Jewish privilege)

But what I time to arrive. I spent I relaxing Shabbat with old family friends in Jerusalem, in the neighborhood I lived in when I was 6. Had some interesting conversations with people at synagogue about my research, and have gotten a rather negative response when I mention that I am talking to Israelis, Palestinians, and Jordanians. Things like 'what do the Palestinians have to do with it?' and 'You are looking at cooperation? You mean how there is no cooperation?' No! Get out of your bubbles!

I am impressed how quickly I have moved back into using Hebrew, after not using it for a year. I am glad to be researching in places I am already familiar with - I can speak the language, know how the buses work, know which cafes in the center of town i can walk into (after showing the contents of my bag) to use the facilities. But I am constantly having to think about what I am doing and who I tell where I am going, since not everyone will approve. I don't dare wear long skirts or bandanna on my head, because people will think I am orthodox and married. I take my Arabic ring on and off, depending on my surroundings. I don't like needing to sensor myself. I like being in this familiar place, but at the same time I am wishing I was in rural India, with the tough decision of which color pencil to give to which kid...
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This week is complex. Sunday night-Monday was Memorial Day, Monday night-Tuesday independence day. Sunday night at 8 pm there was a siren all over the city, and no matter where you are or what your are doing you stop to remember fallen soldiers, who lost their lives for the land. I was on a bus when it happened. We didn't get off, but the bus stopped and everyone stood in their seats. People who were walking down the busy road stopped, bicyclists dismounted. Two minutes of silence except for the siren ringing in your ears, then the city comes back to life as quickly as it stopped. I was on my way to meet a friend to go to a dinner party. While waiting for her at a classy hotel in the East, I ran into my boss from Amman, from the German foundation I interned for. Random. The dinner party was nice - lots of Italian NGO workers. I wasn't feeling super social and they weren't so much speaking-the-English, but it was a nice re-introduction to NGO/activist-y expat life.

I decided to participate in Yom Hazikaron stuff. I wrote down some stuff about it after the fact, but don't have the energy to go into it now. I think there is enough for y'all to read, anyway.
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Going to Ramallah wasn't terribly eventful. The bus got full. We drove through back streets in East Jerusalem, then suddenly THE WALL. It was huge and imposing and totally overwhelming. We drove along it for a few minutes until arriving at Qalandia. A couple of years ago it was chaotic and you could only take a bus from East Jerusalem to the checkpoint, walk through, then get another bus on the other side to get to Ramallah. This time we went all the way through, passing through what looked like a highway tollbooth, with a billion cameras all around.

The way back was a little bit more of an ordeal. I'm sure I will be passing back and forth a lot in the next couple of months, and will go into the details of the process later. After getting through the main checkpoint, we came across a flying checkpoint, about 5 minutes later. There were no other ways onto this road, aside from coming from Qalandia, so I don't understand the point. Just additional humiliation? It works. There were two soldier eating sandwiches. One comes onto the bus, still eating his sandwich, with an Israeli flag across his chest (celebrating Independence day early, no doubt, in the face of Palestinians who are not celebrating this holiday). He looked to be about 16 years old. With his mouth half full of food he asks to check our Ids. What's the point??

(A couple hours later)
Culture shock!! It took about 1.5 hours to get back after getting into the serveece. After my interview in Ramallah I met a former King's student for coffee. When I got back to Jerusalem I walked from the East to Kikar Tzion (the absolute West), to see what festivities were happening. It was only about 7.30, so I had some pizza and wandered around until stuff started at 10. The whole Ben Yehuda area was closed off. I kept getting my bag checked, going in and out. If only they knew where I had just been, they probably would take more than just a quick look at my bag and me and wave me right through. People have toy hammers and glow-sticks. I didn't see too much confetti. Every time people pull out shaving cream the police and soldiers pounce. There are also soldiers in casual clothes, with big guns slung across their backs. It scares me how quickly I acclimate to this place. I sat for a while, waiting for Hadag Nachash to start their set. I ended up speaking to an old man for a while, all in Hebrew. In the end he was talking more to me than I to him and I didn't understand everything, but it was still pretty impressive how much I got and could communicate. Dumb-ed down form the political conversation I wanted to have, but all things considered it was still pretty good.

Tuesday was Independence Day. I was thinking I would go to the library, but felt I should help my lovely hosts with their big family picnic. I got sunburned sitting in the sun all day, eating mangled-meat, seeing lots of families from the old neighborhood who hadn't seen me since I was 6. So many babies. So much patriotism. So much racism. I was overwhelmed and went home to type up notes from Ramallah.

Today's schedule: Hebrew U. I am already 1 hour off schedule. Have to get these damn papers done..

It's that time again

I leave in 48 hours. Less than that, since I need to be at the airport 3(!) hours early. Damn you Issta, even if you are cheap. I'm excited and anxious and nervous and can't wait, all at the same time. Is that normal? I have been to these places before, so it's not a big deal. But now I am a 'researcher' with the responsibility to find information (and finish my other unfinished papers). And without any of the expected outside funding. Oy. This could go fantastically well, or be a horrible disaster. No matter what the final results are, the next couple months are going to be amazing. Weddings and babies and seeing people from the past will be a nice break from school. I'm sure I will end up with many stories. Watch this space...