Plates

Cool, rainy and windy in Nof Yam today -- just the way I like it.

I'm short on interesting content today, so here are what the vehicle license plates look like over here:

First, the generic Israeli plate. Black on yellow, and the "IL" designation on the left:


Next, the Palestinian plate. You won't see one of these unless you're in the West Bank. Green on white with the "P" designation on the right below an Arabic script:


Finally, the very interesting and rare diplomat plate. This one gets you "God Mode" on parking spots and probably other goodies we don't know about. You must be operating in a documented diplomatic capacity to have these. I have an ex-diplomat car, but I have the yellow Israeli plates.

Black on white. Note the lack of nationality designation.


It's worth mentioning that if you need to change your license plates, you have to do it all at once: If a plateless car is seen parked anywhere, the police will assume it's a terrorist car and blow it up.

Early Thanksgiving bash at the Superintendent's house tonight. The Thanksgiving holiday next week is 4 days off at our school, just like in the US, but many people choose to go on trips, hence the early party. For the holiday, we're having a few low-caliber Thanksgiving dinners in our places, and inviting some Israeli friends.

Oktoberfest in Palestine (I kid you not)

Many teachers at my school are beer aficionados. I've yet to teach at a school without beer aficionados, but that should surprise no one who is already a teacher.

Now, Israel is not exactly a beer-lover's paradise. One can regularly find Carlsberg, Tuborg (which is Danish, I think), Heineken, Stella, and Goldstar, which is the Israeli dark lager, brewed a mere kilometer from our school's campus.

However, many believe the region's best domestic beer to be Taybeh, brewed in the Christian city of the same name, located just north of Jerusalem in the disputed West Bank. The Taybeh brewery has an annual Oktoberfest which attracts beer lovers of all stripes in the time-honored German tradition. If this sounds strange for the Middle East, it is. Three carloads of teachers went on a drove on a fine Saturday in October to sample the wares at Taybeh.

For those of you joining us with knowledge of the Northwest, Driving from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem feels almost exactly like driving from Seattle to Tacoma in terms of duration and difficulty. In terms of scenic beauty, it feels like a barren and miniature version of Snoqualmie Pass. Here are some photos that don't quite do the beautiful drive justice -- click to enlarge:



Taybeh is a charming city on a hill, similar to other cities on hills in the surrounding area. The rocky land actually feels and looks more biblical the more you look at it.




Here is the banner and pouring station for the beer:


These are authentic German dudes in lederhosen specially invited to lend some credibility to the proceedings.


Instead of pretzles, there was falafel, and lots of it. Delicious.



Here we are around a table in the beer garden. Note the city on the hill in the background and the hookah action in the foreground.


The Germans turned out the be a bonefide brass band. They played their polka and drank and toasted us in the audience.


There were beautiful remains on a Christian church near the site of the event. Here are a few pictures -- I like this one of the three people entering:


An oven or kiln of some kind, with offerings.



Mausoleums:




We had a fantastic time. A few shots from the drive back into Israel:

Yom Kippur

The month of October contains at least four Jewish high holy days. Of these holidays, Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement, is the most solemn and important. Jews spend this 25-hour period fasting and praying, and mending the wrongs of the past year to start afresh. One source, I remember, calls the activity on this day "squaring yourself with God". This is one of the few holidays that is observed by even the most secular Jews, and synagogue attendance doubles or triples that of a normal Saturday.

Not only do most Secular Jews observe Yom Kippur, the entire state of Israel, as a definitively Jewish state, does as well. This means:

• No place of business is open
• No cars drive anywhere
  
• No planes take off or land
  
• No radio or television broadcasts

Which means me, as well. I don't think there's a law in the books, but as far as driving goes, it's just not done.

Q: So, what does this mean for non-observers?


A:






Bike shops have their biggest sales week of the year leading up to Yom Kippur. Once sundown hits, it's open season on the roads and freeways for anyone wanting to walk or bike, which usually means yelling kids. There is the occasional ambulance or emergency car, but nothing beats the post-apocalyptic thrill of laying supine in the freeway express lanes at 10pm on a Wednesday, watching the stars and feeling the dull warmth of the day's trapped heat in the blacktop.

In other news, a janitor came into my band room yesterday sporting a Washington hooded sweatshirt with an enormous purple logo "W". This was at first cool, then shocking. We didn't share a language, but I tried to tell him why I loved it by pointing enthusiastically to the shirt, then myself, then Seattle on a map of the world.

In the Desert

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the southern half of Israel is a desert -- the Negev. Vast, dry, and largely uninhabited, it is beautiful in the austere way deserts tend to be, with fascinating rock formations and sparse plant and animal life. A few teachers and I (and 20 high school seniors) visited the Negev for four days as part of a school-wide field trip program called "Week Without Walls". This trip took place in late September, so the desert was still quite hot. Above, our group treks into the Horseshoe Canyon in the enormous Ramon Crater. We stayed in an excellent youth hostel at a small town called Mitzpe Ramon which was perched on the lip of the crater. A few pictures from that trek (click to enlarge):

Our armed guard and medic with the red backpack.


A rare tree (a rattlin' tree)

A rare signpost. There were also painted color-coded signs on rocks throughout the hike. The Ramon Crater would be a terrible place in which to get lost, either in night or day.

The sky in the desert is amazing.

As are the rock formations.

A view of the crater from Mitzpe Ramon.

To me, the most interesting thing about the Negev Desert is the history of its inhabitants, the Nabateans. The Nabateans were nomadic Hasidic arabs who controlled a vast network of oases and storehouses between the Euphrates and the Red Sea, and subsequently controlled all trade of goods and spices between the East and West. We saw many examples of hidden water pools and storehouses where the Nabateans rested and stored their goods. And, as nobody else knew of or had access to these places, the Nabateans held a monopoly on trade until they were conquered by the Roman Empire.

We visited a man who lived in a house in the Negev and provided us with a choice between two activities -- Carving art out of desert rocks:


Or, Frisbee golf on a massive desert course (the circular rock formations that look like they were made by UFOs are the course targets:


Below, the tent where the desert art was being made, and my shadow in the setting sun in the foreground. Coen Brothers, eat your heart out.


We also rode camels (slow and painful) did a dance workshop at an area studio (awesome) and generally rode around the dusty crater in the blasting sun. The vast and unchanging nature of the desert has a strange psychological effect after a while, both restorative and timeless. Some final pictures:

Ibex. They are adorable.