On April 2nd, the little Olympus voice recorder that both warded me from a thousand dangers and made me the butt of endless mirth decided to call it quits. I loved that little thing. It had two years worth of friends' voices and thoughts and memories in sound on it, none of which I could salvage.
But, I moved on and got another one. It has built-in stereo microphones and a red paint job. It is not as easy to turn on (takes about 10 seconds to warm up) but the sound quality is excellent, so I hope to get some audio loaded on here to complete the experience. There are some great cuts of dialogue and field sound from a series of tours we took into the West Bank that I will load later once I can do a more complete job of blogging those trips, because they were extraordinary and I want to present them correctly. (If you're reading this on e-mail, you may need to access the site to listen to any audio.)
For now, here is a window in time from this last weekend: Friday was the holiday of Shavuot, which commemorates the day that Moshe (Moses) received the Ten Commandments from God. Like nearly all the holidays around here, it's predicated on eating with the family. This is a big enough one that we got the day off from school, and my dear friend Hadas invited me to picnic in a national forest with her boyfriend Sruli, her parents, brother, his wife and their kids.
A perfect day. Hot enough to be warm in the shade, a beautiful view of a valley or orange groves through the trees, and lots of bread, hummus, and wine.
We played an arcane Hebrew board game similar to Monopoly (but with wizards and dragons!) with Hadas's nine-year-old nephew, Tomer. Lots of written stuff with character and action cards, so I needed to be read to by Sruli or Hadas every round: "Ehm . . . this talisman protects you from . . . *question in Hebrew, answered with "dark spells"* . . . ah yes, dark spells, but only if . . . you are not in the forest . . ."
When there's a lull in the gameplay, Hadas comforts her niece while I take a wine-induced nap:
Finding one set of good friends has been easily the best thing about traveling this year, and I will miss them this summer.
31 May 2009
17 May 2009
Umm al-Fahm
And hello again, compatriots. Today's story comes from two months ago when I visited the Northern city of Umm al-Fahm with a group from school. The interesting statistic here is that 100% of the population is Arab, (99% Muslim) yet it falls entirely within the border of Israel, though barely. Here is the fabled "Green Line" border fence between Israel and the West Bank, close to the city:
And here is the city. About 43,000 people, originally founded in 1265. Name means "Mother of Charcoal" (how cool is that) because of the forests that used to surround it.
And here is a geometrically-inclined plant:
We visited an Arabic coffee factory. Here is my favorite machine -- the roaster:
As well as a baklava factory. Take a gigantic pot of sugar...
Add a little Ghee...
Cool it in a pan...
Baklava for me..!
Finally, the hidden gem of the trip: the Umm al-Fahm art gallery. Founded in 1996 and very small, but wonderful exhibitions of photography.
One of the town's football clubs back in the 40s, with a pre-game prayer:
My favorite photograph -- a gathering of three generations to discuss business at a town meeting (click to enlarge and see the different characters and expressions):
And, most interesting, an exhibition of formal photographs of modern Arabs taken in the most prestigious rooms of their homes. Take a few moments to enlarge the images to see the myriad details of life in the photographs.
And here is the city. About 43,000 people, originally founded in 1265. Name means "Mother of Charcoal" (how cool is that) because of the forests that used to surround it.
And here is a geometrically-inclined plant:
We visited an Arabic coffee factory. Here is my favorite machine -- the roaster:
As well as a baklava factory. Take a gigantic pot of sugar...
Add a little Ghee...
Cool it in a pan...
Baklava for me..!
Finally, the hidden gem of the trip: the Umm al-Fahm art gallery. Founded in 1996 and very small, but wonderful exhibitions of photography.
One of the town's football clubs back in the 40s, with a pre-game prayer:
My favorite photograph -- a gathering of three generations to discuss business at a town meeting (click to enlarge and see the different characters and expressions):
And, most interesting, an exhibition of formal photographs of modern Arabs taken in the most prestigious rooms of their homes. Take a few moments to enlarge the images to see the myriad details of life in the photographs.
01 May 2009
20:00
I was driving north with an Israeli friend on the Namir road from Tel Aviv to Herzliyya last Monday night. The traffic was much worse than usual: long stops with occasional lurching forward, and my clutch leg was beginning to give out.
We crossed a large arterial intersection; just as the flow of traffic finally began to loosen and speed up, it immediately ground to another complete stop, and I saw some people getting out of their cars and standing up. They seemed to be looking at an accident up ahead.
Then, everybody got out of their cars and stood up. All the cars ahead on the four-lane road.
"Is it an accident?" I asked.
"No. Do you hear it?"
I couldn't hear anything.
"Get out of the car and stand up."
I opened the door and stood up, looking ahead. I saw four lanes of one-way traffic doing the same. When I opened my door, I could hear the low and distant drone of air raid sirens.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Shhhhhhh!"
I turned around, and saw all the cars stopped with their doors open. Their passengers were alertly standing behind the open doors like ranks of soldiers with large futuristic shields. It felt exactly like a hive-mind moment from a science fiction story.
After about 30 long seconds the sirens wound down to a stop, and everyone got back in their cars and began driving again. My friend explained that we had just participated in a once-yearly minute of silence to remember the fallen soldiers in any Israeli war; 8pm on that day, throughout the country, every year.
"Once a year! And you got it on the highway!"
For my money, the best way possible to experience it.
We crossed a large arterial intersection; just as the flow of traffic finally began to loosen and speed up, it immediately ground to another complete stop, and I saw some people getting out of their cars and standing up. They seemed to be looking at an accident up ahead.
Then, everybody got out of their cars and stood up. All the cars ahead on the four-lane road.
"Is it an accident?" I asked.
"No. Do you hear it?"
I couldn't hear anything.
"Get out of the car and stand up."
I opened the door and stood up, looking ahead. I saw four lanes of one-way traffic doing the same. When I opened my door, I could hear the low and distant drone of air raid sirens.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Shhhhhhh!"
I turned around, and saw all the cars stopped with their doors open. Their passengers were alertly standing behind the open doors like ranks of soldiers with large futuristic shields. It felt exactly like a hive-mind moment from a science fiction story.
After about 30 long seconds the sirens wound down to a stop, and everyone got back in their cars and began driving again. My friend explained that we had just participated in a once-yearly minute of silence to remember the fallen soldiers in any Israeli war; 8pm on that day, throughout the country, every year.
"Once a year! And you got it on the highway!"
For my money, the best way possible to experience it.
29 April 2009
Turkye
Spring Break finally arrived at school, and my parents arrived in Israel to take their first visit to the Middle East. They took a week to see the local sights while I taught my final week, then we took off for Istanbul, Turkey.
Turkey is a history junkie's dream country. Istanbul recently found settlements and artifacts ranging back to 5,500 BCE, and the sheer depth of the history and culture is astonishing to someone from the United States, or even from Israel, which today is celebrating its nascent 61st year of existence as a state.
Here is an aerial photo of Istanbul. On the left side is Europe, and on the right side is Asia. The divider is the Bosphorus Strait, which connects the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. The city is home to 12 million people. For comparison, this is 20 times as many as the city of Seattle, half again as many as New York City, and half the size of Tokyo.
Istanbul is hilly and covered with buildings. When looking from a plane at low altitude, it is an undulating sea of red roofs punctuated with the occasional pair of minarets sticking up like buoys. It is intense, but only in the fast-tempo way that an ancient metropolis needs to be; the people are wonderfully kind.
Here is a good example of the synthesis of historical and modern in Istanbul: An old mosque framed on top of a light-rail train, stacked over a car tunnel:
On our first day, we went on a seafaring tour of the Bosphorus. Lots of interesting sights along the way. The weather was still very chilly, but beginning to warm up:
Check out the density -- I think this is a neighborhood for the extraordinarily wealthy:
Palace on the water. Perhaps now a hotel:
The strait is a major shipping channel. Note the boat traffic around us.
Outside of one of the Mosques, men wash their feet before entering:
The next day, we visited the Topkapi Palace, home of the Ottoman sultans from the mid-15th until the mid-19th centuries -- A compound with some amazing detail inside. The first set of photos are from the Harem, or the inner sanctum of the Sultan and his living quarters. Click to enlarge and see the detail:
Outside the harem, on the corner of the palace wall, comes an unexpected and breathtaking view of the Bosphorus, definitely fit for a ruler:
A scale model of the palace and its location on the Golden Horn. I love stuff like this.
Next up was Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque, two very important religious sites, but first, a quick detour into the cisterns beneath Hagia Sofia:
There once was a woman who lived near Hagia Sofia, and she drew her drinking water from a well. One day, the water bucket contained a fish. After alerting the authorities who explored further, it was discovered there was an elaborate and ancient underground cistern. Pictured is a strange column with Medusa's head in this place. The cisterns were gothic and damp, and felt like a crypt:
Hagia Sofia, considered by many to be one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, was originally a basilica constructed by the Byzantines in 532AD. In 1453, the Ottoman Turks conquered the city and converted it into a mosque. It is now a museum, and is being restored. My favorite feature of the building (besides its cavernous proportions) are the enormous discs with the Arabic designs:
And here is the Blue Mosque, the beauty of which, for me, outstripped Hagia Sophia. Built in 1616, it has a consistent and thematic use of turquoise (which, I was shocked to learn, literally derives from "color of the Turks" -- credit: Dad). The pictures don't come close to expressing the depth of field in this place:
And, finally, Istiklal Cadessi. This street is a miracle. After an earthquake in the late 1800s devastated a section of town near Taksim Square, the government wisely took the opportunity to rebuild it as a pedestrian-and-streetcar thoroughfare. I wish I had more pictures, but it is like a commercial street like Broadway in NYC writ narrower, taller, more tasteful, and celebratory like a year-round carnival. Restaurants, retailers large and small, movie theaters, music, street vendors, coffee shops, churches, schools, and it gently slopes downhill. Mom and Dad and I stopped for coffee just so we could watch the people:
After five days in Istanbul, we caught a one-hour flight to Antalya, on the southern coast of Turkey. More of a resort town, but also loaded with history and mountains. Here is a pedestrian path that runs along the Mediterranean:
If you follow the path long enough, it comes to a cliff where there is a beer stand and some small tables. Here are some dudes discussing serious business:
I had local beer for $4 a liter and listened to some music here. Bliss.
In the center of old town there was a building that had housed four separate religions over time:
Columns on the coast:
An ancient coliseum in the countryside:
Aquaducts:
And, one of the most transcendent parts of the trip: after looking around the shops near the aquaduct, I wandered down a country road for about a half-kilometer. The pictures don't do it justice, but Spring was just beginning to arrive, and the sense of peaceful and quiet verdant life was unusually strong -- an intense kind of peace. I sat under an almond tree and heard the Muslim call to prayer echoing across the valley.
Finally, a stop at a national park with the bluest and clearest water. A fine finish to a graceful and fascinating trip.
Turkey is a history junkie's dream country. Istanbul recently found settlements and artifacts ranging back to 5,500 BCE, and the sheer depth of the history and culture is astonishing to someone from the United States, or even from Israel, which today is celebrating its nascent 61st year of existence as a state.
Here is an aerial photo of Istanbul. On the left side is Europe, and on the right side is Asia. The divider is the Bosphorus Strait, which connects the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. The city is home to 12 million people. For comparison, this is 20 times as many as the city of Seattle, half again as many as New York City, and half the size of Tokyo.
Istanbul is hilly and covered with buildings. When looking from a plane at low altitude, it is an undulating sea of red roofs punctuated with the occasional pair of minarets sticking up like buoys. It is intense, but only in the fast-tempo way that an ancient metropolis needs to be; the people are wonderfully kind.
Here is a good example of the synthesis of historical and modern in Istanbul: An old mosque framed on top of a light-rail train, stacked over a car tunnel:
On our first day, we went on a seafaring tour of the Bosphorus. Lots of interesting sights along the way. The weather was still very chilly, but beginning to warm up:
Check out the density -- I think this is a neighborhood for the extraordinarily wealthy:
Palace on the water. Perhaps now a hotel:
The strait is a major shipping channel. Note the boat traffic around us.
Outside of one of the Mosques, men wash their feet before entering:
The next day, we visited the Topkapi Palace, home of the Ottoman sultans from the mid-15th until the mid-19th centuries -- A compound with some amazing detail inside. The first set of photos are from the Harem, or the inner sanctum of the Sultan and his living quarters. Click to enlarge and see the detail:
Outside the harem, on the corner of the palace wall, comes an unexpected and breathtaking view of the Bosphorus, definitely fit for a ruler:
A scale model of the palace and its location on the Golden Horn. I love stuff like this.
Next up was Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque, two very important religious sites, but first, a quick detour into the cisterns beneath Hagia Sofia:
There once was a woman who lived near Hagia Sofia, and she drew her drinking water from a well. One day, the water bucket contained a fish. After alerting the authorities who explored further, it was discovered there was an elaborate and ancient underground cistern. Pictured is a strange column with Medusa's head in this place. The cisterns were gothic and damp, and felt like a crypt:
Hagia Sofia, considered by many to be one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, was originally a basilica constructed by the Byzantines in 532AD. In 1453, the Ottoman Turks conquered the city and converted it into a mosque. It is now a museum, and is being restored. My favorite feature of the building (besides its cavernous proportions) are the enormous discs with the Arabic designs:
And here is the Blue Mosque, the beauty of which, for me, outstripped Hagia Sophia. Built in 1616, it has a consistent and thematic use of turquoise (which, I was shocked to learn, literally derives from "color of the Turks" -- credit: Dad). The pictures don't come close to expressing the depth of field in this place:
And, finally, Istiklal Cadessi. This street is a miracle. After an earthquake in the late 1800s devastated a section of town near Taksim Square, the government wisely took the opportunity to rebuild it as a pedestrian-and-streetcar thoroughfare. I wish I had more pictures, but it is like a commercial street like Broadway in NYC writ narrower, taller, more tasteful, and celebratory like a year-round carnival. Restaurants, retailers large and small, movie theaters, music, street vendors, coffee shops, churches, schools, and it gently slopes downhill. Mom and Dad and I stopped for coffee just so we could watch the people:
After five days in Istanbul, we caught a one-hour flight to Antalya, on the southern coast of Turkey. More of a resort town, but also loaded with history and mountains. Here is a pedestrian path that runs along the Mediterranean:
If you follow the path long enough, it comes to a cliff where there is a beer stand and some small tables. Here are some dudes discussing serious business:
I had local beer for $4 a liter and listened to some music here. Bliss.
In the center of old town there was a building that had housed four separate religions over time:
Columns on the coast:
An ancient coliseum in the countryside:
Aquaducts:
And, one of the most transcendent parts of the trip: after looking around the shops near the aquaduct, I wandered down a country road for about a half-kilometer. The pictures don't do it justice, but Spring was just beginning to arrive, and the sense of peaceful and quiet verdant life was unusually strong -- an intense kind of peace. I sat under an almond tree and heard the Muslim call to prayer echoing across the valley.
Finally, a stop at a national park with the bluest and clearest water. A fine finish to a graceful and fascinating trip.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)