Summer Already

I don't like cold weather...so don't take this as me complaining...but this is a picture of my car dashboard today.  It is April 15th.  39*C.  That is about 102.2*F!!  We had to get a car inspection done and me and my Volvo roasted while we waited for the men to finish their inspection.  Ouch it was hot. 

Our first summer here this meter would regularly read 42* on the way to and from work.  I didn't understand metric so well, so I figured "its hot..42 must mean like 80 or 85*F."  Ha!  That was one of the hottest summers on record which lead to a drought lasting until October which led to a butter shortage at Thanksgiving!  Already the grass is dead in our circle and the ground is cracking. Glad we'll be leaving this heat before it gets too hot.

Tel Aviv Marathon 2012

March 30th was the Tel Aviv Marathon and Paul and I both ran!  Well...not the Marathon portion.  I ran the 10k and Paul ran the half marathon.  As you can see from the pictures, tons of people ran. 

My goal was finish in 1 hour so I set my running watch.  There is this great "training buddy" feature where a little stick figure runs against you and the watch tells you if you're winning or losing the race, and by how much. So the whole race I didn't watch how far I had run or for how long...only if I was beating my little racing buddy.  I did great in the beginning...then the race got close...then I let him get ahead by just a bit.

My course went down 3 of the most popular streets in Tel Aviv and when I thought I was about two-thirds of the way done, there was a Marathon sign posted to a light-pole that read "5k."  I can read some Hebrew, but not that fast.  There was no way I could do double what I had already done...so I considered giving up.  For a moment.  Luckily I didn't because that sign was supposedly for the half marathon and I really was almost done!  I admit...that last mile was pretty tough, but when I crossed the finish line I stopped my watch - 56 minutes!! Yeah!!!!

Paul also did a great job.  He always does.  A couple of people from the Embassy ran and Paul got the fastest time of all of the half marathoners!  And he beat our boss! 

Removing Prayers from the Western Wall

Apparently once a year, just before Passover, they remove all of the prayers from the Western Wall.  It makes me sad to think my prayer won't be there anymore, but I do appreciate that they bury the prayers on the Mt. of Olives - that is prime real estate.

:(   Guess we'll have to make one more stop at the Wall before we leave.  I didn't realize they took prayers out once a year!  It only makes sense, I guess.  Where else would they go?  On the bright side, I probably won't have any trouble finding a crack to slip my prayer into. (Source)

Passover Prep

Uriel Sinai / Getty Images

March 28, 2012
Jerusalem, Israel

Men help remove messages and prayers written by thousands of people addressed to God from the cracks in the Western Wall in preparation for the upcoming Jewish Passover holiday in Jerusalem, Israel. All the notes once collected will be buried in a special place at the Mount of Olives, according to Jewish law.

Guests are a gift from God

Guests are a gift from God.  If a stranger shows up on your door unannounced, God is giving you an opportunity to serve Him.  You are to serve the guest for 3 days before you can even ask his name.

As the valet at the Dead Sea resort hands me my car keys he looks me in the eye and says very pointedly:  be careful.  I nonchalantly say “okay” and take my keys.  That was weird.  He probably said that because I’m a woman (eyes rolling).  Maybe it was because the roads are so steep and curvy; but I’ve driven them before, I know what to expect.  Maybe it was to warn me about the cop a mile down the road who would pull me over to give me a ticket; but I talked my way out of that one, no big deal.  Then why in the world was the valet so purposeful in telling me to be careful.  Oh…right.  The blizzard.

The road from the Dead Sea to Petra reminds me of the Sound of Music.  “Climb. Every…mountain!”  We weren’t in cute hats crossing the snow-capped Alps on foot, but we were about to climb what feels like every single mountain in Jordan.  We weren’t going to cross or go through – both of which imply roads between the mountains or tunnels through them.  We were going to CLIMB.  Up and down and up and down.  And…I know, this is an excessive description of the mountain, but I want you to understand that we aren’t talking about some hills, or a beautiful highway cutting through the mountains, or a slight incline and decent.  We’re talking about zig-zagged 25 to 30 degree incline in a narrow lane with no shoulders.  We’re talking about going up in second or third gear and coming down with your hand on the emergency break.  This is more like a roller coaster than a drive through the country.  Okay – roller coaster is an exaggeration.  But 25 to 30 degree inclined zig-zag is not.  (See the squiggly line on the map?)  

 

So we’re climbing every mountain and we’re almost to the top the road forks – up more or down a little.  We know we have to go up and over, so we go up.  I’ll tell you up front, that was the wrong way.  I am literally in the clouds – 1300 meters up.  My visibility is reducing and there is something on the ground by the side of the road…ice? Snow?  Yes.  I didn’t think it was possible, but we continue to climb to 1400+ meters.  Now I can’t see more than 10 feet in front of me, I’ve entered a small one-road) town and I’m debating turning around – I can’t go any higher up.  And guess what I find…a dead end.  Of course!  The scenery around us is being covered by a light icy snow.  Snow…ice…slippery roads…I’m on top of a freakin’ mountain – I can’t go down those slopes with the roads like this.

We turn around and resolve to go ask for directions at the green building which looked like a community center (or mosque).  Although I’d love to practice my Arabic, Paul has to do this one on his own.  It is pretty scandalous to be a woman driving a car with 2 men in it – so I’m going to let the men as the men where to go, while I quietly sit in the car with my head covered.  Before we get to the mosque a group of middle-aged Arab men appear out of the fog walking down the road.  They are happy as can be.  “Talg!  Talg!”  (Snow!) Obviously we aren’t the only ones shocked by the snow.  They point this way and that to show us the way out.  “You need a place to stay” one man offers.  Sweet, but I think we are going to push on to a real city.  It is freezing up here and we are on our way to a hotel with a sauna and hot baths.

As we slowly cross the mountain tops (without much up and down) I’m driving about 15mph.  I can’t see more than 5 feet in front of me now – but we’ve left that city and there is nothing around.  All of the sudden – a small orange caution triangle is propped up on a basketball sized ice block in my lane.  The car fishtails as I hit the brakes.  For the first time in my life, I pull the emergency brake.  We stop inches from the ice block.  We sit there for a long silent moment wondering what to do.  Move the block, drive around it, go back to that village.  Just as we decide to move the ice and continue on two men in florescent vests coming running at us through the fog, waving their arms and shouting something we couldn’t possible understand.  There is an accident ahead.  An emergency vehicle has hit a snow plow.  We can’t stay parked in the road – we’re in the middle of nowhere and the visibility is so low and the roads to bad that the next car coming will surely rear-end us.  We have to get around the accident (carefully, without hitting them or going off the road…my poor little Volvo).  Although the situation is pretty calm the men are frantically yelling “one minute, stani swai, wait, go, one minute, go, yella!”  We get past them slowly and carefully enter the next city.  We are getting lower in elevation so the weather and roads should be less severe the further we go.

We approach a village (only two main roads, but the biggest one on our short trip).  I remember driving through here before…there are some shops who can serve foreigners and there is a huge hill on the other side.  As we make the final descent into the city we meet a crowd of local men…pushing a car up a hill.  They are doing this all wrong.  Two kids are in flip flops, the car is full, the driver is a large man, no one has gloves on, their jackets are unzipped.  We just wait patiently on the side of the road – I’m not going down while they are fishtailing their way up.  Finally it is my turn on the hill.  The locals have to dig my tires out and push…but we get moving and come to a safe full stop at the bottom of the hill.  Locals (all men of course – the women a.) wouldn’t be out in these conditions and b.) wouldn’t be seen in public)…so locals come to us right away.  “ehna bidna… uh…maktab… willa…. uhh...shoot, how do you say hotel?....willa….beit.”  Apparently someone understood at least one of the words I said.  “Welcome.”  (Paul loves this part of the story.)  The only English word these men knew was “Welcome.”  And we knew enough about Arabic culture to know that “welcome” meant “Welcome to my house.  Come be my guest.”  “Bas…wen ana (but…where do I)…uhh…sayari (my car).”  Dang it!  I don’t know how to say put or leave or park!

 

Finally, a tall man with a red and white keffiyeh wrapped around his head walks up and saves us.  “Come to my house.”  Not only did he speak English, but he lived right where we happened to have stopped, and he had a parking spot!  As we parked the car all four of us zipped up our coats and Mafé and I re-wrapped our scarves around our heads…just in case.  “Welcome to Arab hospitality.  We will probably be here a while.”  I didn’t know how long we’d be there (4 hours), but I’d heard of Arab hospitality and I’d heard the Jordanians were the most hospitable of them all.  This adventure was about to prove that true.

We hurried inside and up a flight of stairs where we took off our shoes and left them at the entrance of the house.  One of his teenage sons eagerly followed us up and in the house.  We entered directly into a long hallway with three doors we could see and a curtain at the end.  We were quickly ushered into the first door on the left, a carpeted formal sitting room lined with formal couches.  Red velvet and gold dominated the room from the full-length (closed) window curtains to the wall hangings to the carpet.  On the coffee table were several small souvenirs, obviously from travels or gifts.  Like many houses in this part of the Middle East, it was made of cold concrete.  This part of the world is better equipped for warm summers than cold winters.  Lucky for us, they had a space heater which they brought into the room for us.  This was followed by the traditional coffee which is served from one teeny tiny cup and everyone takes their turn.  When his son finished serving us Mohammed thought he’d missed me and asked in Arabic if he’d remembered to serve “our daughter.”  Wow – 10 minutes into this and he is already calling me his daughter. 

Mohammed was a wonderful, funny and entertaining host.  He spoke English very well and had served as a UN Peacekeeper traveling around the world.  He showed us photos of his travels and all of the gifts his friends from around the world had given him.  He told us about life in Al-Qadisiyah and about Arab culture.  He talked to us about subjects that we date not ask about like his career and retirement, the huge families, and polygamy in Islam.  He told of his thoughts of becoming mayor and of the tribal/family politics of the town.  He even read to us from his English journal and showed us his favorite poems.  At one point Mafé and I were invited on a tour of the house.  Greg got up to follow, but luckily turned back as he was clearly not invited on the tour.  We saw the kitchen, the family room and the bedrooms.  Outside of the room we were in, there was no furniture except beds and floor pillows.  We later found out that because of the snow the pipes were frozen and there was no water…so we couldn’t use the toilet.  Instead, we used the hole in the floor (and washed our hands with bottled water).  On our tour, Mafé and I met his wife – this is why Greg wasn’t invited.  She didn’t speak much English but was very happy we were there.  Mohammed told us she was a great cook and showed us the crafts she does at home.

Back in the sitting room with Paul and Greg, we were all served tea and then this delicious warm milky drink with coconut and walnuts.  Paul thought he heard snow slushing outside as a car passed (meaning the road was open again).  We thought after the drink we’d on our way.  But no.  Mohammed continued to entertain us and told us more about Arab culture and hospitality.  About 2 hours into our visit Mohammed explained that: “Guests are a gift from God.  If a stranger shows up on your door unannounced, God is giving you an opportunity to serve Him.  You are to serve the guest for 3 days before you can even ask his name.”  I’d noticed that we hadn’t said a word about ourselves the entire time.  We introduced ourselves when we first entered the house, but he never asked where we were from or how we knew each other, or why in the world I was trying to drive over a mountain in the middle of a snow storm. 

He also explained how we were like prisoners trapped in that room.  We weren’t allowed to leave the room without being invited or asking permission, and if we left we had to be escorted.  We’d been there for nearly 3 hours and hadn’t noticed, but this had definitely been the case.  It was something cultural we’d just done, but Mohammed skillfully pointed it out. 

Then he said something that was really surreal.  He was talking about how we should travel and see the world and have adventure…”Just like the one you are having right now.  I know you’re very excited to tell all of your friends about this.”  My jaw dropped.  It was like magical realism or when you’re dreaming and you realize it is a dream.  Despite our best manners and trying to act like this was all totally normal and we were perfect diplomats, Mohammed knew that this was totally new and weird for us and that we were recording every little detail in our minds.  He knew that the first thing we’d do when we left would be to look at each other and say “Holy Crap!”  He knew that I’d be writing this. 

After apologizing for not serving us food (because there was no water), his son came in with an enormous tray of steaming hot food.  Mafé had said she wanted Arabic food and I don’t think it gets any more real than this.  We sat in a circle on the floor and ate with our hands.  When we asked how to eat the food (stuffed cabbage, a sour cream-like dairy and olives), Mohammed said that it didn’t matter, we could eat it however we wanted.  It was delicious…and warm. 

By the time we finished the meal we could hear cars going up and down the road outside.  We still had about 30 minutes left to drive to get to our hotel so, after about 20 minutes of chatting, we said we probably needed to get going.  Did I forget to mention that at least 3 times he invited us to stay the night there?  Although he sounded slightly offended that we were leaving, he said we could go…but after tea.  And then Mafé and I said goodbye to his wife (in the bedroom, where the guys couldn’t see her), and Paul and Greg saw the house and Mohammed’s facebook page. 

Just before we left we asked if we could take a picture with him.  We didn’t think you guys would believe us.  He said no (because he hadn’t washed his face that day bc of the frozen pipes), but sent us a photo by email a few days later.  We exchanged email addresses and bid him farewell.  Of all the places in the world to be stuck in a snow storm and spend 4 hours in a strangers house – this would be my choice.

Favorite Knit Sweater

Just a short post:

My mom knit this :)  She said she thought I would just throw it on over my gym clothes for going to and from the gym.  Ha!  The dress arrived in January and I couldn't wait to wear it.  The only problem was I didn't have any shoes to go with it.  I tried many, but none was good enough and I wasn't going to ruin the dress with ugly shoes.  And it was the perfect excuse to buy those boots!

This didn't totally resolve my problem though, I had to wait 2 weeks for them to arrive.  And...I live in Tel Aviv and the "winter" isn't very cold and doesn't last very long.  Blah, blah, blah - serendipity!  Boots arrive on Tuesday.  Cold front arrives on Wednesday.  Jen gets to wear the dress on Wednesday!  Boundless compliments ensue.  My mom made it!  :)

Cathing Up Updates

Eeek!  It has been a really long time since I've written an update.  Here is a really quick rundown of whats on our plate here.

1.  Christmas in the Holy Land:  We hosted a really fun Christmas cocktail party again this year!  Because new people are always coming here for work and everyone (our friends) stays for only 2-3 years there is a lot of turnover at work and in your friends.  A bunch of our friends who were at the part last year have moved on or were on vacation this time around; but we also have a bunch of friends who weren't even here last year.  It was great.  Although we were sad not to be in the States on Christmas we weren't bored or lonely.  In fact, we had so much going on we were juggling invitations and schedules. 

The two highlights of Christmas were Bethlehem and our tree.  Yes - we were in Bethlehem at the site of the crime.  We were at the Church of the Nativity on Christmas eve.  It was packed!  And there was a parade of the local boy scout groups (imagine Arab boy scouts dressed in kilts, playing American Christmas carols on bag pipes.  That could be an entire post on its own...but I'll have to let this suffice.)  The other highlight was opening our gifts.  We had a lot of gifts from each other, from friends here and from family - and we enjoyed every last minute (hour) of that time.

2. Visitors!!  Yeah!  By far the highlight of the year is Jill and Mitch's visit!  I cannot believe how much we walked and how much we did and saw.  In one day (I kid you not) we were at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Western Wall, the Dome of the Rock, and the Treasury at Petra!!!  The Dome is almost never open to tourists and it is quite a journey to get from the Old City in Jerusalem to the Treasury at Petra in one day.  We all had our first Turkish baths too!  I'm not sure if you could find them in the States, but it is based on the concept of an old public bath house where you come out cleaner than you've ever been in your life!  Scrubbed down and massaged!  I think it was well deserved after hiking 17 kilometers up and down mountains in Petra all day....yes, mountains - these were much bigger than hills.  Next week Paul's parents will be here and shortly thereafter Paul's brother and our sister-in-law.  We can hardly wait!  We're making lists of all of the things we want to show them (and mostly all of the places we want to take them to eat!).  We also had two other visitors this week - friends who happened to be in Israel for some other reason and we were lucky enough to make their busy itineraries.  It was great to see that with both of them we were so excited to talk and listen that there was barely a moment to take a breathe or get a word in.

3.  Friends  One of my best friends here is pregnant!! I'm so excited for her!  Hopefully I'll get to throw a baby shower for her in a few months.  I hosted my first baby shower in December for a colleague who is due any day now.  She said I can come to the hospital to see the baby which will make her son the youngest baby we've ever seen (can I say held?  Will she let me hold him?!).

4. The Departure So we have a tour year assignment here which ends Feb. 26th.  We were all set to pack our things and fly out the first week in March....we were.....but now we're looking forward to more time with our Tel Aviv friends, camping and hiking in the warm spring, having the freshest produce of the year, a bonfire holiday party, and a very-well planned out and organized departure in May.  While we are really looking forward to some down time in the States (especially with those adorable babies!), it is the nicest time of year here, we have great friends here who are excited we're staying, and Katie's having a baby - so I'll be around to do the shower!!

I think that is all for now.

Pfeffernusse

Every year for Christmas we got a package in the mail from my grandma.  I didn't really know her as a chef or a baker, but every year she sent us a bag of homemade pfeffernuss.  Pfeffernusse (pepper nuts) are small hard anise-flavored cookies.  I know - anise.  I always loved them.  Probably because they were from my grandma and because of the emotional connection to the food.  Anyway, they are these little bite-sized cookies about the size of a marble.  They have a distinct flavor and don't need frosting or sugar on top.  Just plain and simple.

There were two ways we could enjoy our pfeffernusse.  First, we could dunk them in dad's coffee (not mom's usually, she didn't like them).  Pfeffernusse are firm and the coffee loosens them up just enough.  Or we could eat them out of our pockets.  Yes, our pockets.  That was my favorite.  Ohio winters are cold, especially when you are waiting for the bus or pushing the woods. (Pushing the woods means walking through the woods from one end to the other in a strategic manner so as to kick-up the deer and sending them running in the direction of the hunters.)

I remember standing outside in the cold on several occasions, it was so cold so I'd put my hands in my pockets and....you guessed it...pfeffernusse!  I would pop the little delight in my mouth and just kind of let it melt down.  (I have to tell you that once...maybe a few times...I'd put on my coat for the first time of the year and find a pfeffernusse in the pocket.  When they are a year old they are a bit too hard, and sadly, you have to toss them.)

When grandma died two years ago I scoured her recipe books for the pfeffernusse recipe.  To the envy of my cousins and aunts, I found it.  It wasn't until this year that I tried to make them, and I really wish I could have called grandma for some clarification.  You see, not only was the recipe written in the time of lard, but there are no instructions.  Only ingredients.  And even that isn't a complete list.  "Enough flour to roll."  Hmmm..."enough"....I seem to have lost my "enough" measuring cup.  It was a bit of guessing, but I think I figured out something at least close to what grandma used to make. If only it were cold...

Holidays with Family (and some cute babies!)

We just got back from the States in which we were able to celebrate a whole seasons worth of holidays in just two weeks!  We didn't get to see everybody we wanted to, and we'll still wish we were there on Christmas, but it is good to be back in our place.

Our first stop this trip was Connecticut where we celebrated a wedding (again), a first birthday and Thanksgiving.  As if this didn't keep us busy enough we also squeezed in some delicious Mexican food made with lots of love by our friend Jenny, a stop at the local watering hole the night before Thanksgiving to see the variety of locals, and a nice long walk in the woods.  We had so much fun playing with our nephew Atlas...or more so...following him around as he crawled and walked and explored the whole house.

I think after our many trips crossing time zones we've almost figured out how to beat the jet lag:  NyQuil and Red Bull.  I know - not the healthiest, but I don't think the body was made for time travel and when you only have a few days, you can't waste the best hours sleeping.  Oh..and baking at 630am.  If you can't sleep, might as well do something fun! I had a great time making him these really cute Sesame Street cupcakes...I won't tell you how long they took.  But if you'd like some - forget it.  This was probably a one time shot and only one other person in the world (right now) will ever get anything close to this.

The theme of the trip seemed to be babies!  In addition to Atlas, Paul's friend had a baby just days before we landed.  He was so small and looked just like his dad!  I admired him upstairs for a bit while his dad had band practice in the basement.  Live show!  It was pretty cool.

The next..and prettiest..baby was Allison Marie.  She has got to be the cutest little girl I've ever seen! (and she happens to look like me! :) )  Alli turned 5 weeks old while we were there and greeted me with a dirty diaper.  We met our niece during the second half of our trip in California where we spent a few days with my brother and sister-in-law.

When colleagues asked how my trip was I couldn't say fast enough: "Great! I met my niece! She is so cute!  She smiled at me!!!"  This is monumental because she is just starting to smile and I had played with her the night before.  In the morning as soon as she saw me she smiled. :)  Did I mention how adorable she is?

Besides the baby, I also got to see my entire immediate family in California!  My mom, dad, Paul and I cooked up a storm in the kitchen! They cooked, I poured flour all over the counter every hour and used up all of the butter.  Shawn and I read so many books to Alli and he was awesome just holding her and playing with her during tummy time.  Amy and I went to yoga.  That was the coolest yoga studio I've been to and blows anything I've seen in Israel so far out of the water.  It was really fun and I can't wait to go again next time I'm in Cali!  Dusty made some amazing waffles and gave us all a tour of the USS Midway.  We also snuck in a walk around the block, a trip to the zoo, and a few trips to the grocery store (the Salvation Army woman outside of the store made quite a pretty pen during my many mini-trips).

It was a super fun trip!  I wish we'd have had more time to hit up more locations and see more people.  On the bright side, we'll be back in March!

Wine Tasting, Camping and Minor Injuries

Last weekend was a lot of fun!  We did a wine tasting and camping trip that we've been wanting to do for quite some time.  And the best part was that we did it with a decent sized group of friends!  It was so much fun...that tomorrow night we are heading south for another trip (this time minus the wine).

When we were trying to find a time to go on this trip I went through the calendar and realized that we only have about 4 unclaimed weekends left in Israel.  I could go through each weekend and tell you what exciting plans we have - but I'll spare you.  Instead, the short version:  Ball, home, home, Paul to Africa, party, Christmas, Visitors, visitors and more visitors! Then....USA!!!  So this realization of only 4 free weekends was pretty interesting.  Really made us think we should make the most of every weekend left.

So the crew left from Tel Aviv on Saturday morning and the three car caravan pulled into Nazareth just before noon.  After all 12 of us used the teeny tiny restroom in the wine shop, we headed upstairs to find a large table with lots of cheese and meat and breads...and a table with lots of wine.  It was really fun.

We left there a bit later than expected...and got stuck in traffic somewhere between Nazareth and Cana (yes...the miracle at Cana..Jesus turned water into wine...we were just trying to experience history).  So we headed waay North to one of my favorite wineries. By the time we got there (2.5 hours after our apt.) it was cold and dark and we'd lost one vehicle which chose to go straight to the campsite.  The second winery was also a lot of fun, but cold. 

 From there we headed to a great campsite and set up tents in the dark.  Paul was just getting over a hurt ankle (from a running accident) and I slipped on some water and hurt my knee - so we were quite the damaged pair.  Regardless, we got the camp site set up and served up a great camping meal!  I remember this warm comforting soup my friend Lyndsi's dad used to make when I went camping with them.  I really wanted to make it, but it called for bacon and green beans...which are not in season.  Well, I was determined enough that I found both so we had beans n taters for dinner with couscous and hots.  Top that off with smores and you have some happy campers! 

Everyone who camped out just happened to be a big coffee drinker.  So in the morning three of us pulled out our ingenious way of making sure the group had coffee.  One guy brought a french press, another Turkish coffee, and I had my dad's percolator!  Needless to say, there was no shortage of delicious coffees to go with our eggs and bacon.  I'm telling you, this was not a tough camping trip.  More photos here (if the link works).

Halloween and Farewells at Work

I can only remember a few times when I've been more tired at work than right now, and they were all during grad school when work and school and friends competing for my precious sleeping time.  This week was on par with those days and I have no clue how I used to do it.

Last Year's Halloween

Halloween is one of the only holidays that we can celebrate at our work.  Everything else seems to be tied to a nation or religion that not everyone can buy into, or that offends at least a few people in the office.  But Halloween - I think no one really knows enough about it to be offended, and God knows they have kids.  An afternoon to bring in the kids, get free candy, practice English - they love it.  So the work Halloween party is crazy! (Not like a company Christmas party...more like a school carnival.)  Today at work there were sooo many kids running around on sugar highs and lots of people in costumes.

Rewind a few days.  One of our favorite colleagues is leaving.  This is part of life in the foreign service - everyone moves every 2-4 years so you get to know people just well enough to make the goodbye sad.  The guy who is leaving now is a great guy and awesome co-worker (in my office).  He's been over to our house a bunch of times for dinners and parties and for a few movie nights.  His request for his last night here - dinner and a movie at our place :)  It was a lot of fun (and a huge compliment) - but I was also making 4 cakes for his farewell on Friday.  Wednesday night was cake baking time in our house, and Thursday (after the movie was done and guests left at 1130pm) I started the frosting.  I didn't quite finish so I woke up early this morning to put the final touches on and throw all 4 cakes into boxes.  (Yaawwwnn!  5 hours of sleep was not enough!)

It had to have been one of the best lunches at work!  The guy who is leaving bought pizza for the entire Mission (25 pizzas) and because I was ordering we, of course, had gourmet pizza from the best pizza place in town :)  I enjoyed two pieces of arugula pizza followed by a slice of salted caramel cake!  Correction:  "a slice of the famous Vaca cake!" as the boss told everyone.  I heard from at least 5 people that I should open a store :) (and if our trip to Brazil didn't remind me why I got a degree I might just be working on a business plan!)  It was all very fun, and now (at 445pm) I am ready for bed.

More Israeli than the Israelis!

Yesterday at the grocery store I think we were more Israeli than the Israelis.  We gave them a taste of their own medicine! (Although they didn't mind as much as we do because it is normal to them.)  Here is the story:

You know the stereotype of penny pinching and watching the price of every item that scans?  Well that was me yesterday.  BUT...it was totally justified and in the end it turned out very well. 

Let's assume you are buying olive oil.  So when you go shopping in the grocery store here items are not always on the shelf where their price sticker is.  The bottles may have been put on the shelf above, below, or to the side depending on where there was space.  Luckily, you can read just enough Hebrew to match the price tag on the shelf to the name on the bottles.  Then you have to check the prices, the price on the shelf is not always the same as the price sticker on the bottle.  To go the extra step, see if all of the bottles have the same price on their stickers.  It could be the front bottle is 35 shekels, but the identical bottle just behind it is only 30 shekels (meanwhile, the price tag on the shelf says 32).  You obviously should take the bottle with the 30 shekel sticker on it.  You're final test is when you get to the checkout line - the price that rings up may  not match any of the three previously mentioned prices.  If it is lower, let it go.  If it is higher, the thing to do is to stop everything, hold up the line and demand the lowest of the four prices.  The people around you will either a.) roll their eyes and look for another line to go to because this will take a few minutes to resolve, b.) ignore you, leave their groceries as a place holder and run back for that carton of ice cream, or on rare occasions c.) get involved in the argument and tell the cashier that you have a right to the lower price.


Also, one last cultural thing before I get to the main part of this story, it is the holiday season here.  The high holidays include the Rosh Hashana (the new year) and Yom Kippur (the day of atonement).  Then right after those, they have Succot and Simhkat Torah. Line this up with Columbus Day and basically the whole month is holidays.  And the grocery stores run crazy specials right before the holidays, especially on wine, apples and honey (like how an American store might run a sale on champagne just before New Years or turkey and stuffing before Thanksgiving).


So...finally, the story.  We go to the grocery store with the intention of buying wine.  The price on the shelf says 3 bottles for 100 shekels.  The price sticker on the bottle says 57 shekels each.  Then I look at the bottle behind it...and it says 4 for 100 shekels.  Fast forward to the check-out line.  The bottles scan at 3 for 100 - but there is a sticker on each of the four bottles that says 4 for 100.  So I pull the chord and stop the line.  The cashier and I are awkwardly trying to explain to each other our points (using the simplest of phrases) when the lady behind me in line jumps in....and argues for me.  (You have to read this with your best Yiddish accent) "Just give it to them. The sticker says 4 for 100, give them 4 for 100."  She keeps going in Hebrew so that the cashier has to call the supervisor.  Once the supervisor comes she and the cashier are speaking and the nice lady smiles at us and then runs off to grab that ice cream that was for sale.  When she comes back they were still debating the price of the wine and the nice lady left for another register and a different woman is in line behind us. 

They always say something right before you pay asking if you want to buy this gum that is on sale or these batteries...something you don't need.  We always say no.  So they ask Paul (in Hebrew) if he'd like to buy the honey that is on sale for 1 shekel a jar. We have 2 full jars in our pantry and we don't go through it that fast.  "Lo, toda."  I kid you not, we were shamed into buying honey.  (Nice lady in English) "Come on! It is one shekel. Just buy the honey." Paul laughs, "we already have two jars at home."  "I'll buy it for you then!  It is only one shekel!"  (1 shekel is about 30 cents.)  Yes....we were shamed into buying a 1 shekel jar of honey.  Wine and honey.  If we'd have gotten the apples too we'd have been completely Jewish.


Meanwhile, the supervisor says something like "come here" (pointing to the main "service" counter) and walks me over (bottle of wine in hand) to the manager.  (Yes, this saga is still going on.  It has been like 5-10 minutes.)  They look at the receipt, back at the bottle, back at the receipt and the conversation all sounds like gibberish to me, I'm catching maybe every 5 words.  Finally, the supervisor goes behind the counter, does some magic on the computer (while other customers now roll their eyes because they have to wait) and eventually hands me the bottle and my receipt. "Shana Tova!!" (Happy New Year) she says and hands me my bottle of wine. 

I know it was a hassle, but I got that 57 shekel bottle of wine for free!  And it was the nicest that anyone has ever been to us in a grocery store here!  In fact, multiple people were nice to us!  I guess my tactic of being rude and stingy is actually the way to win them over.

Home Sweet Home - Part Two

During our first full weekend in the States we headed to New Jersey to see Paul’s family and attend the baptism of our nephew.  Though I missed the Brazilian dinner Paul’s brother and his fiancé made on Friday night, I heard great things about it.  We’ll have to have a cook-off one of these days!  Saturday brought more time with family and more great food.  “Pah, pah, pah, Paul” – It didn’t work.  The baby is still too young to pronounce the letter P, much less say Paul.  Maybe next time.

The reception for the baptism was before nighttime the Mass and once all of the guests were there, Paul’s sister told us she wasn’t 100% sure the Mass was going to be in English! Ha ha.  It was…and it wasn’t.  Half of the songs and half of the readings were in English.  The gospel and homily were done in both English and Spanish.  And the baptism was only in Spanish.  I was translating for Paul’s cousin which is pretty difficult given that I haven’t spoken Spanish in a year.  The church was packed and the mass was…long (3 hours).  After the part and the after-party, we went back to the hotel to hang out with Paul’s siblings.   

As I write about this all now I don’t know how we had the energy to do it all, but when you only have limited time back home with everyone you just subtract and hour of sleep and add a cup of coffee, and somehow it all works out.

Matty's Friend

A few weeks ago I posted about our "pet" praying mantis, Matty.  Well, we've been watching Matty grow and move around more, and yes, (s)he is still here.  Last week Paul commented on how much bigger and greener Matty is now.  Still not that big, but about the size of a grass hopper now.

So this morning I was pretty confused when I went to the plant.  "How thin you look Matt.  And oh so pale again."  Maybe the mantis is sick?  Have I been watering the plant too much? Not enough?  As I bent down to get a closer look something moved on a large leaf about 2 inches away.  It was Matty.  "But...if that is Matty (big and green), who is this little white guy?"

I have no clue where the new guy came from, but I hope Matty doesn't him.  He could not physically eat Matty as he is about 1/3 the size.  He?...she?...it is young.


If you can see the zoomed in view of the top picture, you would see that the new guy is basically transparent.  We can see four little dots in his stomach!  Probably his siblings.

A Delicious Little Corner

Paul flew out early Sunday morning for a conference in the Hague.  And while I was very jealous that he was off to a week in a beautiful country, I didn't sit around the house.  I went with some friends to the northern most tip of Israel to this delicious little corner.  I don't know exactly what the population of the town is (if it is even big enough to be a town), but they are on to something!  They have two wineries (one of which is my new favorite), a gourmet chocolate factory, and a small little restaurant that is raved about.   Oh...and fresh goat cheese made by the winemakers wife.  What a life!

First five wines we tasted at Pelter.

As we left Tel Aviv in the morning we picked out our wineries.  A well informed group we were.  We had recommendations (and driving directions) from friends, the most popular guide book, and the guide to Israeli wines. We had access to everything you could want to know about the wines....driving directions...well that was another story.  I successfully pointed out a shortcut absent from our directions.  But the second time I knew of an alternate route I kept my mouth shut, thinking the directions were a short-cut.  I should have spoken up.  We up the steepest curvy (poorly banked) roads.  I'd have taken a picture, but the military fence alongside the road said no photography.  Note to self - don't go that way ever again.

I'd been to the first winery before after a camping trip.  They weren't so nice to us, but I chalked that up to us making a reservation from the parking lot (they are big on reservations here) and showing up after a night of camping.  The second trip was as...lacking in hospitality and pleasantry.  A quick tour (the only cool part is their cellar) was followed by tasting 3 red wines.  I don't really care for their wine and two of the four wanted to buy whites.  Boo...

Then we headed up, up and up (to the highest elevation in that region) and as north as possible.  Finally, we came to a dead end:  right through a crossing or left to the winery.  Left Please!

Near the border...

The winery - Pelter Winery - could not have been more enjoyable!  First, the wine was delicious!  And instead of the three skimpy tastings at the previous winery, we tasted like 12 wines!  Second - he had fresh goat cheese laid out (which his wife made...they have 10 goats).  Third, it was so laid back.  He was tasting with us and wasn't tapping his foot waiting for us to finish. Fourth - the winemaker himself was hanging out with us!  Fifth, I don't really remember - but we did ask if there was a bed and breakfast in that town also, or at least a good (safe) camping spot.  It is like 30 minutes above the Sea of Galilee, so I think we'll be heading up there in a few weeks for a culinary camping trip! :)

Bags of Pelter Wine in the trunk on the way home.

Where in the world are...jen and paul vaca? (You're supposed to sing that)

I knew when we signed up for the foreign service that we would be doing a lot of traveling, but I didn’t think we’d be doing this much!  Paul especially!  As of two weeks ago, we are counting down our time in Israel by trips and visits.  When I was little and wanted to know when mass would be over, I’d ask my mom how many more songs they were going to sing.  That was a fun way to count, but this even more fun! 

Two weeks ago we unexpectedly made a trip back to the States for Paul’s grandmother’s funeral (she was 104 years old!).  While it is a sad reason for travel, we are always so happy to be back in the U.S. and especially when we get to spend time with family.  (Funny side story:  as soon as we get out of the airport, I sit on a bench next to a stranger who is also waiting for a ride and he is speaking on the phone….in Hebrew.  He lives just 15 miles from us here.)  The trip was so short, but we so enjoyed every minute (and fought the jetlag for every waking moment) that it felt like much longer.   

On the way home we had a lovely 15 hour layover in Amsterdam!  At least it sounded lovely.  We landed at about 6am and after washing up in the airport bathroom, we headed out into the city…which was still asleep.  Luckily we didn’t see anyone we knew there because I’m sure we were a pair of walking zombies.  Three nights before we were flying to the States (and slept about 5 hours each).  The next two nights we were jetlagged, but managed to sleep for about 7 hours out of pure exhaustion.  The third night we were flying back and the poorly timed dinner and early breakfast made for at most 4 hours of sleep. Listen to me, complaining about an international trip and chance to see Amsterdam!  It was lovely.  We went back to the Van Gough Museum, took a nap in the park, had a delicious traditional meal, and walked a few miles around the city.  This has become normal for us.

Now we’re back in Israel.  But not for long.  Paul is heading out to the Hague this weekend (which is a 20 minute metro ride from Amsterdam).  Two weeks after he returns we’ll be heading to Brazil for Greg and Mafe’s wedding, stopping in London for long layers on each leg of the trip!  (I’ve wanted to go here since I was 10 years old!  Time to brush up on that Portuguese.)  A few weeks after that trip we’ll hopefully start our U.S. tour (California and Connecticut…and maybe Ohio and New York?).  If all goes well the first visitors will arrive the day we get back.  Jill and Mitch have tickets! And then hopefully two or three more visitors…then we’ll be packing up our house and we’re done with Israel. 

We heard a joke a while ago that now seems so true: “You know you’re in the Foreign Service when your favorite coffee shop is in the Amsterdam airport.”  (When I read that now I don’t think it will be funny for you.  But it is for us, because it is so true.  We know the departure times and flight plans by heart, and we either know the layover cities or know someone who knows them well, so we become experts at the 8 hour vacation/tour – Newark, Philly, Amsterdam, London and Frankfurt.  Any one of them could be inserted into that joke.  We even know which terminal the flights go into and out of in Newark.  It is really weird.)

To the Party...or is it a Protest?

What to wear…what to wear.  The events email I got this week talked about all the bands that would be playing concerts tonight in support of the protest.  They are protesting the cost of living in Tel Aviv.  Actually, this is like ten small protests all coming together and the binding thread is the cost of living. 


It all started with a young orthodox guy who created a facebook page to protest cottage cheese (there is only 1 or 2 producers and it is really expensive!  Like $4 or $5 for a 10oz container).  Then a 26 year old girl who mad at her landlord did the same thing for rent prices.  
 
 This snowballed into a “tent city” on the most popular street in the city, then a 50,000 protest two weeks ago, 150,000 last week, and 300,000 this weekend.  Before you start to get a wave of anxious fear, the papers are saying the protests are more like street parties than protests.

So…the dangly earrings?  These seem a bit too party-ish for a protest.  Hmm…how about a casual dressed up look that looks effortless (but really takes me 45 minutes).  A casual cotton T-shirt with a touch of sparkle, hair pulled back, small earrings, and the obligatory across the shoulder crunchy protest purse (packed with an id, enough money for a cab home, a camera and two beers – there is no open container law here).

When we walk out of the house there are 6 tour buses parked on our corner.  There is a band playing from the second story balcony.  I’d stay to listen but it is in Hebrew and I want to see the main event.  The general crowd is moving towards the city center like a swarm of bees towards honey.  Most of them look like they are about to go grocery shopping, no signs, no hippy clothes…just normal people. 
 As we get close we can feel the excitement rising with the beating of drums.  We squeeze past the groups of young adults chatting with their friends (one of them brought a sign), past the strollers, the dad with his 6 year old daughter on his shoulder, past the families who just came to watch.  There are as many people marching as there are watching.

The march is the exciting part.  It is moving slowly – like an unorganized parade that got really scrunched up.  Each group has a banner or poster and some even have people in costumes, group T-shirts, or instruments.  We can’t really read the signs, most of them are in Hebrew.  The chants are in Hebrew as well, also very unorganized, but supposedly they are saying something like “the people demand social justice.”  We see one sign in Arabic and one in English.  We see a guy on stilts, some orthodox guys, guys with drums, a Che Guevara shirts…mostly just normal people aged 20-50. 

Looking around we can see that the walls lining the sidewalks have become benches for supporters with cameras and every other rooftop and window facing the street is packed.  “Jen, Paul.  How are you guys?”  Who would have thought, a crowd of 300,000 and we run into someone we know.  He is actually one of the two big wine experts in the country and – lucky for us! – he is carrying wine! J  The march is winding down so we head towards this great pizza place downtown and share a pizza that tasted like it had been dipped in truffle!  Of course, paired perfectly with a great bottle of wine.  We probably wouldn’t have gotten a table if we hadn’t been with the wine guy as the place was packed with hungry “protesters” (catch the irony here – the protest is on the cost of living in Tel Aviv, and they are going straight from the protest to the pizza place to enjoy $24 pizza).

It was fun.  And if the government doesn’t do something I am sure we’ll have the opportunity go again next weekend.