The Tomb of Abraham from the Mosque side. The view from the synagogue is directly opposite.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Caeserea/Male attention /Hebron
We went to Caesearea on Sunday, but unfortunately I forgot my memory card in my computer. So I'll have to steal pictures from Kathy, but I'll write about it now before I forget.
It was HOT. And dusty. But absolutely beautiful.
Remains of Roman Ruins from 22 BC are right on the shore of the Mediterranean (some of them are actually underwater IN the Mediterranean), including an ampitheater, bath houses with original mosaic flooring still intact, a gladiator type arena, minarets from the later Unmayyad period (muslim rule), and remains of a city wall from the crusader period.
After walking through only about a third of the sites (which took us 2-3 hours) we ate lunch at a lovely seafood reastuarant with outdoor seating so close to the water you would feel the spray if it were a windy day. I had red snapper, Kathy had crab, and Arlissa had kalamari. All good, but the most delicious part of the whole meal was actually the focaccia--it was amazing.
Then we watched a video/got a brief virtual tour from one of the guides and made it out to some of the remaining harbor wall from King Herod and went for a swim! The best part of the day. Kathy bought some snorkeling gear and very graciously shared it with Arlissa and me so we got to enjoy the fish and the ruins. There was one family of foreign travelers with one young teenage daughter and one 10 or 8 year old daughter. Other than that it was a whole bunch of locals (only male) and Kathy, Arlissa, and me. I was told by a 14ish year old boy that I was very beautiful (see previous post--I have a way with the younger men). Being a foreigner in a conservative culture where (for example) it is not culturally acceptable for boys and girls to go swimming together--definitely ups your sex appeal. I don't think of myself as a particularly provacative dresser, or a sexy person in general, but I'm going to divert from my blog about Caesearea for a moment to recount memorable moments where I experienced this foreigner's appeal phenomenon.
1) First time I went to Nablus (conservative Muslim city in the West Bank) wearing knee-length shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. I had practically every guy in the village staring at me. Some angrily, but some very friendly. I got lots of "very beautiful"s. Also in the old city at night. Palestinian guys will walk by and say things about "You very beautiful" in english.
2) Waiting to meet people at Damascus gate outisde the Old City in Jerusalem. If I'm by myself, I get winks, and waves, and hellos from the male sex of all ages. My favorite was when an elderly Armenian man named Tony (he had lived in the Armeninan quarter of the Old City for over 50 years) sat right down next to me and just started chatting away. When he found out I was just at Damascus to meet with a friend before heading out to the West Bank, he had to make sure that I knew where I was going, where to catch the bus, how much to pay, etc. He was really sweet. When my friend Daniel finally showed up Tony had to come meet him, make sure Dan knew where we going, and while giving Dan a firm hand shake charged Dan to "take good care" of me.
3) One night late, I went to the Seven Arches Hotel on the Mount of Olives to meet up with friends Dave and Daniel and enjoy a great view of the Old City, the Dome of the Rock in particular. We had made vague plans to meet at the Hotel, but without cell phones, it was difficult to actually find one another once there (and of course I was 30 minutes later then when I had said I would be there). There was a Palestinian wedding taking place at the Hotel that night so the courtyard was all full of guests and taxi drivers smoking hookah. I started to attract a lot of attention from the groups (of course all male). When I asked if they had seen two American boys, I got the response "No, but here are two Palestinans! Come over here with us" (and of course they proffered their hookah to me as part of the invitation). I told them I would come back if I couldn't find my friends. Another man was shouting out, Hello! Shalom! Equivalent in Arabic! Hello! trying all languages to get my attention. He seemed a little drunk and definitely had a beverage in his hand so I ignored him for a while. But eventually he left his group of friends and chased me down. He asked if I was lost, needed a taxi somewhere, etc. When I told him I was looking for two American boys I was supposed to meet up with he said, "Ah! I know where all the tourists go. Follow me--we find your friends." So I followed him across the street from the hotel to a look out point and sure enough, there I found Dave and Dan. As the taxi drivers left throughout the night they all waved at me and said something about me finding my friends.
4) Outside the mosque in Hebron and in Nablus, while I waited for the boys (Dan, Rusty, and Kresten) I was given a chair to sit on, in the shade, and offered cold water (in Hebron) and grapes (in Nablus)! Seriously! Complete strangers saw me waiting around and motioned me into the shade, found chairs for me. And then offered me refreshment. The two men in Hebron were older and spoke no english. The men in Nablus where older and younger but it was the two younger who spoke a little (a very little) Enlglish and gave me grapes that they washed off first.
5) Also in Hebron a man gave me sunglasses for free! Rusty decided to get his hair cut in Hebron. So we wandered around in the modern part of Hebron asking people about where to go (miming cutting Rusty's hair) and eventually some guy led us to a little mall with a hair salon for men. Next door to the salon was a women's cosmetics/scarves/accessories store. I started browsing through the sunglasses because I didn't have any and the glare was starting to kill me. The owner was a darling, petite Palestinian man with beautiful feathered hair who spoke very little English. He started handing me sunglasses to try on. Palestinian women must like their bling because these sunglasses where rhinestoned! I found the pair with the least amount of bling (believe it or not), but as I started to pay for it I realized that I didn't have enough shekels to pay for the sunglasses and pay for the bus ride home. I tried offering a credit card, but he shook his head no. I shrugged my shoulders--said I was so sorry-- but I didn't have enough shekels, as I motioned to my empty billfold. As I left the store without the sunglasses he pressed the sunglasses into my hand and said "For you, for you." I tried to explain again about having no money and he shook his head yes and said "It ok. For you." I went back to the salon feeling really grateful, touched and guilty and realized that I did have some American money on me. So I went back to the shop and tried to give him some American money (lots of shops in Bethlehem take american dollars so I thought maybe it would work there also). But he refused to take it several times and kept saying for you and putting his hand over his heart. He took the sunglasses back from me, put them in a gift bag and gave them back to me one more time.
At first I foound this male attention a little bit creepy, maybe a little threatening. But for the most part, I have come to enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that many of these men are not as considerate, courteous, of women belonging to their own culture, but for whatever reason, being a western woman here gets me lots of attention. I have to say I'm going to miss it a little when I go back to the states and loose that.
Since I mentioned Hebron several times I'll finish describing that west bank visit. I spent the morning with Sahar (the Relief Society President and a Behtlehem native), Kathy, and the BYU Arabic-intensive students who had spent the whole summer in Egypt and were having a week in Israel before heading back to the states. We all got to hear a presentation by Sahar's brother, a professor at Bethlehem University and a huge activist for Palestinian rights. It was pretty crazy and interesting and awesome. He had footage from demonstrations and protests he had been involved in. one in particular showed a group of Palestinians, internationals (people from other countries) and even a few Israeli citizens who where standing in front of a bulldozer that was about to destroy a Palestinian community. The soldier's violently removed people from the sight. We saw tear gas, people getting hit with the butts of guns ... very similar to civil rights activists in the 60's. It was a very powerful presentation. Sahar also gave a short talk about life as a member of the LDS church in Palestine. For example, the only truly permanent members of the church mostly have no access to the meetings at the Jerusalem Center because they don't have Israeli citizenship or the blue I.D.'s that allow Palestinians to enter Israel. Also, her home teachers often can't come to see her because most of them are consulate workers who have sever limitations and restrictions about when and how they can go into the West Bank (which includes Bethlehem). After the presentation Kathy, Sahar, and the BYU students went to do a service project and I ditched to go to Hebron--which I still feel guilty about, hence the confession here on my blog.
Hebron was a very modern and bustling city--kind of like Ramallah. There is an old city, but it's harder to define (the old walls are not as visible) in most parts. We ran into lots of little kids saying "Hallo!" Two little boys took me by the hand and insisted I come. They kept imitating the motion of taking a picture with a camera. "Click" So we (Kreston, Dan, Rusty) followed them through this totally wrecked old house, up some stairs past some housing where people stil lived and onto an overlook of the city. It was quite pretty.
We wandered around. Said lots of hellos. And made our way to the Ibrahim mosque (the mosque of Abraham/the cave of the patriarch's where supposedly Abraham, Sariah, and Rebekkah and others are buried. It was my first time being able to enter a mosque--this is a tourist stop and so they are prepared for westerners to come in. I did have to put on a cloak-like garment that covered my head and arms down to my ankles. Since both the Islamic and Jewish traditions honor Abraham, the mosque and the synagogue share walls so that both have accesss to the tombs. You can literally see into the synangogue and vice versa when viewing the tombs. Of course there are guards into the entrance on both the mosque side and the synagogue side. Getting into the mosque requires going through an automated turn style, metal security detectors, bag searches, walking 50 or so feet and going through another set of metal detectors, searches, showing your passport and going past one more third set of gaurds before you enter the mosque. Getting into the synagogue there are just soldier's standing around that let you in or don't. I heard that the Old City in Hebron has become somethign of a ghost town since Israeli settlements have begun to go up. It's true. There is one busy street leading up to the mosque that still has lots of vendors trying to get some tourists (and there didn't seem to be that many tourists), but other than that one street--there are just lots of streets of empty, boarded up shops. We walked on a street that seemed absolutely empty--three dogs were lying on the road and looked like they'd been there for a while--trying to get back to the modern, bustling Palestinian Hebron. This street seemed to lie somewhere inbetween Palestininan Hebron and Jewish settlements. We saw some bus stops for Egged buses (the Jewish bus line). But no actual buses or peopel. Eventually we came across some Israel soldier's at a checkpoint along this road who were very friendly and helped us get back to Hebron. We talked to one soldier for a while who was from a Kibbutz ( a communal farm--kind of socialist style) up north by the border with Lebanon. He talked about how hard it was to put your life on hold for three years as a 19 yr old to serve in the army. He talked about how his older brother and seen some pretty intensive service during the most recent conflict with Lebanon and serving down by the Egyptian border and had gone on vacation for a while after he finished his army service to wind down from it all--he hadn't come back to Israel yet. This kid was really interesting and nice to talk to because he seemed quite genuiune about the difficulties of serving in the army. It wasn't just the nationalist/Zionist talk I've heard from other Israeli's about the honor/duty/responsibility of army service. Also, because everything on the kibbutz is communal, this kid--I should say this soldier--didn't get any of his army salary. All of the money went to the kibbutz.
It was HOT. And dusty. But absolutely beautiful.
Remains of Roman Ruins from 22 BC are right on the shore of the Mediterranean (some of them are actually underwater IN the Mediterranean), including an ampitheater, bath houses with original mosaic flooring still intact, a gladiator type arena, minarets from the later Unmayyad period (muslim rule), and remains of a city wall from the crusader period.
After walking through only about a third of the sites (which took us 2-3 hours) we ate lunch at a lovely seafood reastuarant with outdoor seating so close to the water you would feel the spray if it were a windy day. I had red snapper, Kathy had crab, and Arlissa had kalamari. All good, but the most delicious part of the whole meal was actually the focaccia--it was amazing.
Then we watched a video/got a brief virtual tour from one of the guides and made it out to some of the remaining harbor wall from King Herod and went for a swim! The best part of the day. Kathy bought some snorkeling gear and very graciously shared it with Arlissa and me so we got to enjoy the fish and the ruins. There was one family of foreign travelers with one young teenage daughter and one 10 or 8 year old daughter. Other than that it was a whole bunch of locals (only male) and Kathy, Arlissa, and me. I was told by a 14ish year old boy that I was very beautiful (see previous post--I have a way with the younger men). Being a foreigner in a conservative culture where (for example) it is not culturally acceptable for boys and girls to go swimming together--definitely ups your sex appeal. I don't think of myself as a particularly provacative dresser, or a sexy person in general, but I'm going to divert from my blog about Caesearea for a moment to recount memorable moments where I experienced this foreigner's appeal phenomenon.
1) First time I went to Nablus (conservative Muslim city in the West Bank) wearing knee-length shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. I had practically every guy in the village staring at me. Some angrily, but some very friendly. I got lots of "very beautiful"s. Also in the old city at night. Palestinian guys will walk by and say things about "You very beautiful" in english.
2) Waiting to meet people at Damascus gate outisde the Old City in Jerusalem. If I'm by myself, I get winks, and waves, and hellos from the male sex of all ages. My favorite was when an elderly Armenian man named Tony (he had lived in the Armeninan quarter of the Old City for over 50 years) sat right down next to me and just started chatting away. When he found out I was just at Damascus to meet with a friend before heading out to the West Bank, he had to make sure that I knew where I was going, where to catch the bus, how much to pay, etc. He was really sweet. When my friend Daniel finally showed up Tony had to come meet him, make sure Dan knew where we going, and while giving Dan a firm hand shake charged Dan to "take good care" of me.
3) One night late, I went to the Seven Arches Hotel on the Mount of Olives to meet up with friends Dave and Daniel and enjoy a great view of the Old City, the Dome of the Rock in particular. We had made vague plans to meet at the Hotel, but without cell phones, it was difficult to actually find one another once there (and of course I was 30 minutes later then when I had said I would be there). There was a Palestinian wedding taking place at the Hotel that night so the courtyard was all full of guests and taxi drivers smoking hookah. I started to attract a lot of attention from the groups (of course all male). When I asked if they had seen two American boys, I got the response "No, but here are two Palestinans! Come over here with us" (and of course they proffered their hookah to me as part of the invitation). I told them I would come back if I couldn't find my friends. Another man was shouting out, Hello! Shalom! Equivalent in Arabic! Hello! trying all languages to get my attention. He seemed a little drunk and definitely had a beverage in his hand so I ignored him for a while. But eventually he left his group of friends and chased me down. He asked if I was lost, needed a taxi somewhere, etc. When I told him I was looking for two American boys I was supposed to meet up with he said, "Ah! I know where all the tourists go. Follow me--we find your friends." So I followed him across the street from the hotel to a look out point and sure enough, there I found Dave and Dan. As the taxi drivers left throughout the night they all waved at me and said something about me finding my friends.
4) Outside the mosque in Hebron and in Nablus, while I waited for the boys (Dan, Rusty, and Kresten) I was given a chair to sit on, in the shade, and offered cold water (in Hebron) and grapes (in Nablus)! Seriously! Complete strangers saw me waiting around and motioned me into the shade, found chairs for me. And then offered me refreshment. The two men in Hebron were older and spoke no english. The men in Nablus where older and younger but it was the two younger who spoke a little (a very little) Enlglish and gave me grapes that they washed off first.
5) Also in Hebron a man gave me sunglasses for free! Rusty decided to get his hair cut in Hebron. So we wandered around in the modern part of Hebron asking people about where to go (miming cutting Rusty's hair) and eventually some guy led us to a little mall with a hair salon for men. Next door to the salon was a women's cosmetics/scarves/accessories store. I started browsing through the sunglasses because I didn't have any and the glare was starting to kill me. The owner was a darling, petite Palestinian man with beautiful feathered hair who spoke very little English. He started handing me sunglasses to try on. Palestinian women must like their bling because these sunglasses where rhinestoned! I found the pair with the least amount of bling (believe it or not), but as I started to pay for it I realized that I didn't have enough shekels to pay for the sunglasses and pay for the bus ride home. I tried offering a credit card, but he shook his head no. I shrugged my shoulders--said I was so sorry-- but I didn't have enough shekels, as I motioned to my empty billfold. As I left the store without the sunglasses he pressed the sunglasses into my hand and said "For you, for you." I tried to explain again about having no money and he shook his head yes and said "It ok. For you." I went back to the salon feeling really grateful, touched and guilty and realized that I did have some American money on me. So I went back to the shop and tried to give him some American money (lots of shops in Bethlehem take american dollars so I thought maybe it would work there also). But he refused to take it several times and kept saying for you and putting his hand over his heart. He took the sunglasses back from me, put them in a gift bag and gave them back to me one more time.
At first I foound this male attention a little bit creepy, maybe a little threatening. But for the most part, I have come to enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that many of these men are not as considerate, courteous, of women belonging to their own culture, but for whatever reason, being a western woman here gets me lots of attention. I have to say I'm going to miss it a little when I go back to the states and loose that.
Since I mentioned Hebron several times I'll finish describing that west bank visit. I spent the morning with Sahar (the Relief Society President and a Behtlehem native), Kathy, and the BYU Arabic-intensive students who had spent the whole summer in Egypt and were having a week in Israel before heading back to the states. We all got to hear a presentation by Sahar's brother, a professor at Bethlehem University and a huge activist for Palestinian rights. It was pretty crazy and interesting and awesome. He had footage from demonstrations and protests he had been involved in. one in particular showed a group of Palestinians, internationals (people from other countries) and even a few Israeli citizens who where standing in front of a bulldozer that was about to destroy a Palestinian community. The soldier's violently removed people from the sight. We saw tear gas, people getting hit with the butts of guns ... very similar to civil rights activists in the 60's. It was a very powerful presentation. Sahar also gave a short talk about life as a member of the LDS church in Palestine. For example, the only truly permanent members of the church mostly have no access to the meetings at the Jerusalem Center because they don't have Israeli citizenship or the blue I.D.'s that allow Palestinians to enter Israel. Also, her home teachers often can't come to see her because most of them are consulate workers who have sever limitations and restrictions about when and how they can go into the West Bank (which includes Bethlehem). After the presentation Kathy, Sahar, and the BYU students went to do a service project and I ditched to go to Hebron--which I still feel guilty about, hence the confession here on my blog.
Hebron was a very modern and bustling city--kind of like Ramallah. There is an old city, but it's harder to define (the old walls are not as visible) in most parts. We ran into lots of little kids saying "Hallo!" Two little boys took me by the hand and insisted I come. They kept imitating the motion of taking a picture with a camera. "Click" So we (Kreston, Dan, Rusty) followed them through this totally wrecked old house, up some stairs past some housing where people stil lived and onto an overlook of the city. It was quite pretty.
We wandered around. Said lots of hellos. And made our way to the Ibrahim mosque (the mosque of Abraham/the cave of the patriarch's where supposedly Abraham, Sariah, and Rebekkah and others are buried. It was my first time being able to enter a mosque--this is a tourist stop and so they are prepared for westerners to come in. I did have to put on a cloak-like garment that covered my head and arms down to my ankles. Since both the Islamic and Jewish traditions honor Abraham, the mosque and the synagogue share walls so that both have accesss to the tombs. You can literally see into the synangogue and vice versa when viewing the tombs. Of course there are guards into the entrance on both the mosque side and the synagogue side. Getting into the mosque requires going through an automated turn style, metal security detectors, bag searches, walking 50 or so feet and going through another set of metal detectors, searches, showing your passport and going past one more third set of gaurds before you enter the mosque. Getting into the synagogue there are just soldier's standing around that let you in or don't. I heard that the Old City in Hebron has become somethign of a ghost town since Israeli settlements have begun to go up. It's true. There is one busy street leading up to the mosque that still has lots of vendors trying to get some tourists (and there didn't seem to be that many tourists), but other than that one street--there are just lots of streets of empty, boarded up shops. We walked on a street that seemed absolutely empty--three dogs were lying on the road and looked like they'd been there for a while--trying to get back to the modern, bustling Palestinian Hebron. This street seemed to lie somewhere inbetween Palestininan Hebron and Jewish settlements. We saw some bus stops for Egged buses (the Jewish bus line). But no actual buses or peopel. Eventually we came across some Israel soldier's at a checkpoint along this road who were very friendly and helped us get back to Hebron. We talked to one soldier for a while who was from a Kibbutz ( a communal farm--kind of socialist style) up north by the border with Lebanon. He talked about how hard it was to put your life on hold for three years as a 19 yr old to serve in the army. He talked about how his older brother and seen some pretty intensive service during the most recent conflict with Lebanon and serving down by the Egyptian border and had gone on vacation for a while after he finished his army service to wind down from it all--he hadn't come back to Israel yet. This kid was really interesting and nice to talk to because he seemed quite genuiune about the difficulties of serving in the army. It wasn't just the nationalist/Zionist talk I've heard from other Israeli's about the honor/duty/responsibility of army service. Also, because everything on the kibbutz is communal, this kid--I should say this soldier--didn't get any of his army salary. All of the money went to the kibbutz.
Mahane Yehuda!!!
Holla for halvah!
I finally made it to the outdoor market on a Friday (which is like Saturday here). It was AWESOME! It's both very touristy and very local. The cheapest place to buy produce and pitas, everyone local goes there to stock up for Shabbat diners. Tourists are all over to because it's this cool, crazy busy, bustling market with everything from tomatoes to Manorah's and scarves and jewelry. Like a really cool farmers market. You can identify the tourists from the locals a lot just by the head wear--as illustrated above.
I finally bought some Halvah (It's this sweet, crumbly .... stuff. Hmm. Kind of like ... a nougat roll or something? But, more grainy? It's really good! I think it's made out of sesame seed oil and flour, sugar and nuts, and vanilla and stuff like that. It's Parve--which means there are no meat or dairy products in it. DE*licious. I also got a Pomegranite Juice which was just that. They halved three pomegranites right in front of me, sqouze them, and handed me the cup. It was also delightful. Then I got my pitas and tomatoes and plums so I could feel less like a tourist and pretend I was just a local--doing my weekly shopping.
On the way there, I passed a 16ish Phillipino looking boy on his bicycle wearing a Toronto Raptor's basketball jersey. I kind of stared for a second because you don't see very many kids in West Jerusalem or really anywhere in Jerusalem) wearing basketball jerseys. He noticed me staring, but didn't crack a smile, wink, blush, or anything. He just stared right back at me. So I kind of half-waived, smiled and kept walking. Without breaking his stare he passed in front of me into a driveway, and then crashed into the wall. I was in front of him at this point so I didn't turn back around to stare--didn't want to embarass him any further by ackoweldging that I'd seen him crash. But then--he came turned back around, very slowly rode next to me on the sidewalk (without saying a word), passed me, turned around AGAIN to ride back towards me and still without smiling said "Hi." He didn't stop though. So by the time I responded I was just saying "hello" to his back. I felt like pretty hot stuff after that encounter. Me and the 16 year olds--I've always had a way with younger men.
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