On an Island in the Sun

When you're on a holiday;
You can't find the words to say;
All the things that come to you;
And I want to feel it too.

-Weezer (Island in the Sun)

Just as the seasons smoothly transition from one to another (unless you live in the Midwest, or any place where there really are seasons), so too does winter ulpan transition flawlessly into spring semester.  Classes started last week, and I couldn't be more pleased.  Because I am in a program where half of my classes are with the Israeli Hebrew U students (who are on break until March 4th), three of my classes will not commence until said date.  So from now until then, I'm just kind of chillin' (kind of).  The amount of time I am in class and the amount of work that I have to do are surprisingly disproportional at the moment.

Although most of my classes only consist of weekly readings until a final paper is due at the end of the semester, in one class, the teacher has assigned seven novels along with presentations for students to choose from over the course of the semester.  Although I did not mark it as my first choice, myself and another student were the only ones who dared attempt the first novel.  This book, The Rise of David Levinsky, by Abraham Cahan, is a captivating story and could not be written more beautifully.  However, the length of the novel (370 pages) is not conducive to reading it and preparing a period-long presentation on it within a week.  Nevertheless, here I am, hard at work.

I received the novel on Tuesday, and so on Wednesday I set out for Jaffa street (the main commercial street here) to plop down at a cafe and make acquaintance with my assignment.  Sometimes, there are experiences in life that are so incredibly delicious that you bask in their delight, wishing them never to cease.  However, you acknowledge that like all other delicacies, they must come to an end and must be used sparingly in order to preserve their freshness.  Sitting down at Cafe Hillel on Jaffa street on a beautiful Wednesday morning, reading a most engaging work of fiction, all while letting the sun's rays warm me and penetrate my mood as well as keep my coffee at just the right temperature was just one of these experiences.

After making the pilgrimage to the city center, I was suddenly transported back to my summer in Madison, where I would find a seat on the balcony of Starbucks, get lost in the most pleasurable of novels, sip iced coffee, gaze down at the people that strolled up and down State St., and sense a certain gratification whenever a pedestrian entered into my bookstore down below.  Some of the greatest of life pleasures are not free, but they only cost the equivalent of a cup of coffee, a good book, and some quality thinking time.

At one point, when I let my empty stomach get the better of me, I sauntered down the street to fill my belly.  There is an outstanding falafel place where one can purchase a schwarma laffa for twenty shekels, which is a very good deal.  After chowing down, I returned to my coffee oasis, entered back into the world of 19th century Eastern European Jewry, and passively listened to an amateur guitarist strumming away across the street.

Currently, I am not as far in the book as I should be, but I have a good idea of how I will present it, so it isn't a huge worry.  Anyway, Thursday and Friday were pretty typical.  Thursday was the usual party night, nothing too exciting.  Friday, I returned to the residence of my friend Yossi Witkes for yet another delicious Shabbat meal.  The crowd, the conversation, and the food there are always top notch.

On Saturday night, we went out to dinner for my friend Rachel's birthday.  The restaurant we went to, called Eldad VeZayhoo, was very nice had a subtly German/Austrian/Hungarian feel to it.  But of course, like many things in Israel, including every English menu you will ever encounter, something was a little off.  Their music choice, while tasteful, was discernibly eclectic.  If one song was 90s grunge, the next was Jay-Z.  If one song was Israeli pop music, the next was the Rolling Stones.  To be sure, all quirks add to one's personality, and this eatery was not short on personality. Afterwards, we walked around aimlessly questing after Birman's, a Euro-style pub that we had occasioned a few weeks back.  Once there, we sat down for over an hour, chatted, celebrated, and concluded a good friend's birthday.

So here I am, on holiday, on an island in the sun, and I am enjoying every last minute of it.

Zac

Bringing the Ulparty to 763

As ulpan ended on Thursday, so went the first chapter of my life as an Israeli.  From mornings at Aroma, to tours around campus, to sleeping through lectures about world churches, to learning about virtually every kibbutz in Israeli history (kinda sorta), to making some really, really great friends, I can honestly say that I enjoyed every minute of it, even the brutal 7:00 AM wake-up calls that my sinister alarm clock felt necessary to inflict upon me.  Shalom Aleph 4, it's been real.

This week has been filled with plenty of fun, although for the most part it seemed routine.  I was apprehensive that I wouldn't have enough to blog about this week, but as I have previously stated, everything always works out.  Yet again, it did.  However, I cannot attest to honing in on my photography skills this week, so instead I will display skylines from the cities I hope to grace over the next month and a half.  Firstly, I'm planning a big birthday bash in Eilat, party boat and all.  If you're reading this, COME!  Also, I signed up for a Prague weekend through an organization on campus.  Lastly, I am currently planning spring break trips to Venice, Barcelona, and Istanbul.  When I return, my poetic talents will be channeled into a song entitled "Hebrews in Venice", to the tune of the Jay and 'Ye song which need not be named at this time  (actually I'll probably start this soon).  So basically this past week I've been looking into planning my future holiday.  Nothing too extraordinary, except we did throw a killer rager in our apartment, which lent itself to the title of this post.  But so far I have only written two paragraphs, and that definitely does not satisfy my personal blogging requirements.  Hence, I was really hoping to have a crazy, cooky, memorable, and distinct Shabbos dinner.

As it turns out, my Shabbos dinner this week was crazy, cooky, memorable, and distinct.  Spending this weekend in Jerusalem, a few friends and I decided to play it safe and get set up with a family for Friday night dinner.  The man who took us in was Reb Chaim (I'm not sure if we ever did learn his last name).  We arrived at his residence around 5:30 PM, and by the time he opened the door for us, it was 6 PM.  He explained that they were not yet ready for us, and when they did let us in, we were promptly escorted to an unlit children's room where ten of us gathered on bunk beds/ the floor and shot the breeze for another half an hour.  By this time we were all very hungry and confused.  When we finally sat down to the table, I noticed that this place was decorated unlike any home I had ever seen.  There were pictures of both rabbis and secular people hanging all over the walls (half of them off-kilter), multicolored spheres draping down from numerous spots on the ceiling, and posters (mostly neon colored) filling all other white space.  Lights flashed on and off in the corner, and I couldn't help being reminded of my room in the frat house.

We began the meal with Shalom Aleichem, during which we paused between stanzas and Reb Chaim would go off on a tangent.  I'm almost positive we never came back to "Zeitschem L'Shalom".  We waited another half an hour before the Reb decided to proceed with Kiddush, and I do not speak in hyperbole when I say that this was the longest Kiddush I have ever witnessed.  Every single syllable was thoroughly pronounced, and after about ten minutes of blessing the wine, our stomachs growled and our blood boiled.  After the ode to God for his gift of fermented grapes, Reb Chaim gave a personal two-minute blessing to each of us sitting at the table.  There were about twenty of us.  It was actually scary how applicable his blessings were to most of our lives.  I unfortunately don't remember mine as it was very hard to take everything in from the night, but a couple of my dinner-mates were pretty spooked.  At one point, the Reb actually tried convincing my friend Robyn that her father owned a store.  Their banter went on for about five minutes and ended with Reb Chaim advising Robyn not to bet all of her money that her dad didn't own a store.

By the time we took our first bite of bread, it was 8:00 PM.  To say that we were ravenous would be a gross understatement.  Between the appetizers and main course, which didn't begin until 9:30 PM, Reb Chaim told many a tale, each more elaborate and far-fetched than the next.  One was actually a ghost story, during which he would briefly stop and interrogate random guests on their level of faith in the veracity of his anecdote.  He was actually quite the storyteller, and for the most part, each story had a clear and amiable message.  Throughout the meal, Reb Chaim took out royal robes from his closet and had each of us exchange them at random intervals.  I got to wear a particularly enchanting burgundy robe for quite a lengthy period, and I must admit that I really took a liking to it.

Nothing I have said up to this point will do justice to how abnormal the night was, or how disillusioned we sat for hours, or how much we all ended up really enjoying the experience.  It was one of those experiences where it truly is impossible to breathe everything in, but luckily this blog will serve as a lasting memory of one incredibly crazy, cooky, memorable, and distinct Shabbos dinner.

Classes start tomorrow, which I am actually pretty excited about.  It will be nice to learn more than just Hebrew, although I really will miss my ulpan class.  Off to write "Hebrews in Venice".

See ya next week,

Zac

                                                               

                                                   

             

I'll have the Tz(fat) Sandwich

As Ulpan ended last Thursday, we rushed home, made sure everything was packed, and caught the bus to Tzfat. Earlier in the week, I had booked reservations at the Chabad hostel in Tzfat where I had stayed for a week this past summer.  My friends Adam, Steven, Rachel, Leah, and Robyn, and I all had an itch to leave Jerusalem for the weekend, and decided that Tzfat was a great place to go.  Immediately, I thought to stay at Ascent (the Chabad hostel), as the view of the mountains, the programming, the staff, and the price could not be matched anywhere else.

After our bus pulled up in Tzfat on Thursday night, we lugged our bags over to Ascent, dropped them off, and headed out to dinner.  Our roommate, Eric, suggested a nice sit-down restaurant just down the street, raving about their home-made Arak (Israeli licorice-flavored liqueur), and we gladly took his advice.  After downing a juicy 300-gram burger and a few l'chaims, we left the eatery in search of good ol' tomfoolery.  But when you're camped in a small town where 99.99% of the residents are religious Jews, there ain't much tomfoolery to be had.  So instead, we took a lap around the city (it's only a big circle after all), hung out for a bit, and called it a night.

We awoke around 10 AM the next morning and promptly headed out the door en route to the Antique Tzfat Winery. The proprietor of the establishment was a kind man who had already laid out ten different bottles in anticipation of our arrival.  Needless to say we tried them all.  My favorite was the Port, and I opted to purchase a bottle (and then some) to crack open when my family arrives here in late June.

Upon leaving the winery, we paid a visit to Avraham, the blissful kabbalist/ artist who serves as the main attraction for Birthrighters in Tzfat.  He spoke of his journey to religiosity and how totally awesome it is to be in tune with the reality of oneness.  If I were to go back in time and attend Woodstock with anyone I know, it would probably be Avraham.

When his chill sesh was over with, we put the meditation aside and went shopping.  For those that don't know, Tzfat is the mystical capital of Israel, and it follows that the city houses a great Artist's Colony.  We strode up and down the promenade, haggling with vendors that offered to make us very good deals (and only for us!), and when all was said and done, I ended up with a sweet Omri Casspi jersey and some postcards (I'll actually buy some art there later in June).  When things were about to close down for Shabbat, we quickly made our way to a cafe, enjoyed some coffee and some really delicious chocolate mousse cake, and headed back to Ascent where I immediately passed out and woke up just in time to change for Kabbalat Shabbat.

Normally in Tzfat for Kabbalat Shabbat, in the summer at least, the town provides tourists with the opportunity to go synagogue hopping, the door of each building being open and the congregants quick to welcome stray daveners.  There are also thousands of people singing and dancing in the streets.  It's quite fun.  But the weather (although not terrible), did not lend itself to such an occasion, and so we were left with the devastating choice of choosing one, and only one, place to settle on.  We found a nice location, but were forced to leave early because Ascent had set us up with a family for dinner, and we needed to make it back to the hostel by a certain time.  When we sat down to dinner at the family's apartment, their grandmother invited us to play Legos with their kids, and I felt at home instantly.  The meal could not have been better, with stimulating conversation focused on religion and philosophy.  Our hosts had attended Harvard and Cornell, and had become religious later on in their lives.  Thankfully, our paths crossed, and we shared many a thought with each other.

I don't remember much of Saturday because I took two naps, but the highlight, besides eating lunch with a man who previously starred in the Israeli version of "Friends", was sitting outside on the porch of the hostel, overlooking the mountains of Tzfat, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book.  This was also one of my favorite things to do on my trip there this past summer.  When Shabbat was over, we headed up to the top floor of the building and celebrated Havdalah with a platoon of Israeli soldiers who had also infiltrated the hostel for the weekend.  There is nothing like sharing a joyous occasion with the men and women who you are so grateful and really indebted to.  It was a great experience. Just after Havdalah, we caught a bus back to J-town, and here I am.

L'hitraot,

Zac

Shofar, So Good

     Wow, another week in the books.  This week, Jerusalem transformed from a foreign city where I'll be living for five months into another city that I can call home.  Living with a bunch of friends, stopping at Aroma during my morning walk to classes, and frequenting the nearby fitness center, my stay here is drawing many parallels to my life as a Badger.  We don't have Montee Ball or Jordan Taylor to satiate our sports appetites, but we also never get five inches of snow, so I'll take the good with the bad.

     Although each day provides its own highlights, one of the pinnacles of the week was getting the opportunity to hear a man named Gerald Schroeder speak.  Professor Schroeder is a former M.I.T. physicist who has written many books on the conflict of science and religion, the premises for his literature being that no such conflict exists.  Originally, he came to Israel as a faculty member at Hebrew U, although he now teaches in the Department of Jewish Studies at a yeshiva called Aish HaTorah.  His lecture this week was entitled "Genesis and the Big Bang" and although some of it went way over my head, I thoroughly enjoyed getting to see him speak.  After his talk, he autographed two of his books that I had brought to Israel.

     Later in the week, my friend Rina brought me to a little "hole in the wall" coffee shop/ used book store called Tmol Shilshom.  As I stepped through the entry-way into the cafe, I exited Israel and sauntered in to Europe for the first time!  We sat down beside a wall, skimmed the menu, and people-watched for a while (we were supposed to be studying for a quiz).  The walls, decorated with bookcases, fed into a teeny kitchen where the staff busily assembled.   We both ordered onion soup, and the waitress quickly brought over a plate of freshly baked wheat bread and assorted dips (the olive dip was the best).  After spending three hours there (or maybe three days, who really knows?), we exited Europe and headed back into Israel.

     The weekend eventually appeared before us, and it was time to make plans for Shabbat Dinner.  Having already been invited to my friend Julie Gordon's house for Shabbat lunch, a few friends and I devised a plan to walk to services in the city center and hope that some kind family would extend an invitation our way for a night of fine wining, dining, and stimulating discussion.  (If this sounds to you strikingly similar to the movie Wedding Crashers, only with college students looking for a home-cooked meal, I believe you're correct.)   After walking alongside the light rail for a little over half an hour, we realized that we would not make it in time for services at the pacing we were going.  We quickly found an empty cab and darted towards a local Chabad.


     When the cab stopped near the Ben Yehuda street area, our level of certainty that we had indeed reached our desired destination had begun to decline.  We would still have to walk a short distance once we exited the cab, and our environment betrayed our hopes of finding a place to daven.  We looked at one another, each with a puzzled look on our faces.  Instead of wandering aimlessly through the streets of downtown Jerusalem in search of spiritual and physiological refreshment, we asked the driver to take us to another synagogue.

     After a short drive, he dropped us off at the Great Synagogue of Jerusalem, a landmark that I had always wanted to enter.  As we stumbled into the foyer, we again looked at each other and began to discuss a game plan for finding a home-cooked meal.  Slowly, we ascended the staircase that led to the Beit Knesset, and began to scope the vicinity for potential suitors.  We plopped down in front of a group of kind-looking men, and I began to make conversation with them.  Once services started, I drew open a chumash (a bound, portable Torah) and flipped to this week's portion in hopes of finding material that I could use as a d'var, sort of as a "thank you" to whosoever took us in.

     As I shifted my gaze back and forth from the chumash to the services in front of me, I couldn't help but notice just how stunning the synagogue was.  Chandeliers draped from the ceiling and circulated above our heads.  At the front of this great hall sat a men's choir, led by a conductor.  Their voices rang in perfect unison, and this brilliantly unique style of Kabbalat Shabbat left me awestruck.  Now and then, I directed my focus back to the Torah portion, and eventually found that in this week's reading, we learn that things have a funny way of working themselves out.  The Israelites left Egypt en route to the Land of Milk and Honey.  But before they could get there, they faced many trials and tribulations, and of course questioned God the entire way through. When they thought they would die at the hands of the Egyptians, the sea parted. When they went hungry for too long, manna fell from the sky.  When they were thirsty, water became abundant.

     By the time services came to an end, our window of opportunity was closing quickly.  And so there we sat, hungry, thirsty, and facing a long walk back home.  As we walked back into the foyer room, I was unexpectedly spotted by my cousin Josh!  We knew that we would be in Israel at the same time, but we had not been in contact with each other, so finding him outside of services in a synagogue that we were not even planning to go to was a complete shock.


     For five or ten minutes, my friends and I stood in a corner looking as hungry (and American) as possible, and watched as the foyer completely emptied out.  We were about to give up, when a man approached us and asked if we had a place to go for dinner.  We excitedly shook our heads no, and he invited us over.  It turns out that he was the vice-president of the synagogue, his twin brother the conductor, and their father was actually the man that founded it twenty eight years ago.  His name was Zalli Jaffe, and he and his family were all the most cordial of people.

     As his son led us to their home, we passed by Benjamin Netanyahu's mansion, and I knew this would be a meal to remember.  To make a long story short, we had a wonderful meal with some very kind and sharp people (I even got to discuss philosophy with Mr. Jaffe), took a 1+ hour walk back to our apartments on a warm and quiet Shabbos night, and even though things looked grim for a bit, in the end, everything worked itself out!