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Ilene Weismehl on My neighborhood is not on any tourist itinerary Ilene Weismehl on Happiness in a bookstore john de roo on Back so soon? Shoshana on My neighborhood is not on any tourist itinerary A Beany on Happiness in a bookstore Peter on We stand Shoshannah on A new landscape greeted us Joan on You must have courage... odile on My neighborhood is not on any tourist itinerary Ilene Weismehl on Happy just to sit here To comment on any posting, click on the word 'Comments' at the end of the item. |
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December 26, 2006
Do you...?“Do you have children?” “No, I don’t.” “Are you trying?” “Uh……” I can no longer count how many times this conversation has come up: a neighbor, the lady at the corner grocery store, the woman waiting in line at the post office. In this part of the world, a five-minute acquaintance is sufficient intimacy for conversations that are usually reserved for close friends. Although my Hebrew is improving rapidly, I was inspired to finally enroll in an ulpan (Hebrew class) after an embarrassing miscommunication with the lady in the clothing store who offered me unsolicited advice on relationships. Two mornings a week, I sit with my fellow students speaking Hebrew with the accents and cadences of our native languages. We are from the U.S., France, Germany, Russia, Argentina, Korea, and Iran. I arrive to class early one day and the sweet Iranian lady invites me to sit next to her. We introduce ourselves and then, in Persian accented Hebrew: “Do you have children? Are you trying?”
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 22, 2006
Why coffee walk when you can sit and relax?“B’vakasha, café lalechet,” I say. The kid behind the coffee shop counter replies with a blank stare followed by an outburst of laughter. I learn that I have very politely requested a “coffee walk.” So…how does one say, “please, may I have a coffee to go” in Hebrew? The answer: café to go. But, it is not a frequent request in local coffee spots. Why would you run around with a cup of hot liquid when you could sit and relax with your friends? The coffee shops (and restaurants) encourage this leisurely behavior. Once you sit down, order, and receive your food and drink, you remain uninterrupted until you request refills or your check. The beverage options can be tricky at first. Black coffee is Turkish coffee, which is also called botz, which means mud. Add sugar, let the coffee grounds settle, and sip slowly. Request café filter for standard American coffee. You can also order te im nana (tea with mint leaves). This beverage arrives to your table in a glass cup, looks like a small aquarium, but tastes like everything perfect.
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 19, 2006
Vegetables, shoes, cookies, bread...I follow Agrippas Street, past small shops and cafes, and arrive at the Machaneh Yehudah open-air market. I pass stalls of vegetables, fruits, fish, shoes, skirts, cookies, bread, spices, candies, and beef. The shoppers prove nearly as diverse as the wares. I gape at the stands; I watch the people; I nearly forget why I came here. The voices of shopkeepers bellowing out their prices, the voices of shoppers bargaining and greeting their friends, and the old man pushing his shopping cart into my ankles conspire to pull me out of my trance. I buy four pieces of pita bread (two topped with olive oil and spices) and a loaf of bread for 10 shekels (under $3.00). I also buy the best oranges I have ever tasted.
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 15, 2006
Morning BirdsongI hear their voices like morning birdsong when they head out for school. I see them in restaurants (no matter what the hour), in museums, in bookstores. I'm reading the English edition of HaAretz in a coffee shop, when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I turn my head and find a small boy, leaning way back as he drinks from a very large bottle of water. He needs something to brace himself. I smile at his parents to assure them that it is OK with me. Why wouldn't it be OK? Jerusalem is crowded and complicated and often insane. People drive like there will be no tomorrow, but children are invited and welcomed everywhere--so much more than in the U.S. "Aha!" I think to myself. "You people are hoping for a better future, aren't you?"
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 11, 2006
I'm granted citizenship"Are you a new immigrant?" the librarian asks, noting my American accent and tentative Hebrew. "There's a lower fee if you are." " No," I answer. "I only here will live nine months…." "Ok, Ok." The librarian flaps her left hand to shush me as she writes olah chadasha (new immigrant) on my library card application form. After this interview, I pay the lower fee at the post office (where else?), and return the receipt to the librarian who enters my information into the computer. "Have you received your Israeli ID number yet?" she asks. "I no have number. I only here will live nine months…." I explain again. She flaps her hand again, thus granting me the privilege of citizenship in this small, Jerusalem community library.
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 7, 2006
I find a magical level of peacefulness.I plod through the bustle, noise, and city urgency of Yafo Street and turn left on Ha'Rav Kook. One more left turn takes me down a long, stone pathway, past an intriguing sign for "Museum of Psalms," and finally to Ticho House. Immediately outside the entrance, I find the Ticho House terrace restaurant filled with trees, flowers, relaxed diners, and a magical level of peacefulness. I enter the house and go directly upstairs to view Anna Ticho's ethereal sketches of the Jerusalem landscape. Her drawings capture the forests and desert hills surrounding the city, especially at sunset, especially when I imagine the place as it looked eighty years ago when Anna Ticho and her humanitarian husband Dr. Avraham Ticho moved into this lovely house.
Posted by Ilene Weismehl December 3, 2006
I walk deliberately through the crowd; use my elbows when needed.I walk down Yafo Street in downtown Jerusalem. Admittedly, the sidewalks are narrow, but can't we try to walk like civilized people? Must we push?? I am a very polite person and choose to take the high road. I do not push, I say excuse me. I am getting nowhere and I want to get a falafel. I try it their way: I walk deliberately through the crowd; use my elbows when needed; I say nothing. Guess what? No one thinks I'm rude! Instead, it becomes evident that I actually want to move forward of my own free will. I reach the falafel shop and answer yes to all the proprietor's inquiries about what I want with my falafel: pickles, eggplant, salad, tehina, chips (yes! french fries). I remain amazed at what can be stuffed into a pita to such glorious effect.
Posted by Ilene Weismehl |
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