So many things . . .

New friend Arlissa, who works at the consulate, took Kathy and I out to Ein Gedi, a national Park. It was a lot like Zion's but with whitish, yellowish rocks instead of red.

Everyone was hiking in their suits. It was HOT! And sort of humid which I wasn't expecting.

We passed by the dead sea. Kathy has the pictures of when we went swimming in it. I'll post them later.

So, here's a recap of last weeks highlights. While waiting for the bus home, as per usual, an orthodox Jewish man started a conversation with me in very stilted English. He's a student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem where we work and probably about in his 50's. He wore a kippah, prayer shawl, beard ... the works (no earlocks). He wanted to know how to look up which universities in the US would have Hebrew studies--he wants to teach in the US. I started to say "google it" but got lost in the complexities of web browsing sites in other languages. Could he google it in Hebrew? How do you translate University of Nebraska-Lincoln into Hebrew? "I know there are about 50 Universities in the US," he says. I'm not sure whether he thought there were only 50 Unversities, or whether there were 50 with Hebrew programs. "I couldn't really say," was my response. He pressed me to tell him of the Universities in my area. Which one was most likely to have Hebrew Studies? I threw out "BYU," which he had me write down for him on a piece of paper. After several minutes of confusing conversation (what was I doing with the card catalogue? was I working for the University?, was I working for the city of Provo?--but we were puting the library catalaogue from Hebrew University online so that Universities in Utah could benefit from them, right?) he pressed his resume on me and asked if I would speak to people at BYU on his behalf. Or a University in the plains states. He really likes that area. I really tried to explain that I have absolutely no pull there, or at any other university, but I'm not sure that either of us came away with a clear understanding about what the other had sad. Definitely my favorite conversation in Jerusalem so far.

Second favorite conversation. At the grocery store around the corner and down the block from us, I was in the check-out line with a large stash of toilet paper--we were low. The woman cashier (Mimi-like eye-shadow, probably mid- 60's, closely curled, dyed brown hair) spoke to me rapidly in Hebrew. I shrugged my shoulders and said "Sorry! I only speak English (I say that A LOT)." She spoke more Hebrew at me. "Um . . . Anglite?"

"Oh! Anglite." Followed by rapid Hebrew. The man who had been in line in front of me (you bag your own groceries here so it takes longer to get out) kindly translated for me.

"She says that if you buy . . . um, the pink toilet paper--it's the same brand--and it's discounted. 10 shekels cheaper (around 3 or 4 dollars)."

There was a line of people behind me so I quickly said "No big deal. I don't really care that much."

But the woman REALLY wanted me to get the discount. She pulled out the coupon and everything.

So I ran to the back of the store (it's actually pretty small though) grabbed the pink toilet paper (literally pink--not just the packaging), had to squeeze my way to the front of the growing line, and plopped down the TP.

More Hebrew.

The store manager comes over.

As I look apologetically around me, I see a few shoppers in line who are smirking to themselves. It is a gigantic 24 pack of toilet paper.

A grocery worker exchanges the pink toilet paper for my original blue packaged, white-colored toilet paper.

The cashier rattles off a long diatribe.

The woman behind me in line translates this time (self-bagging man translater is long gone).

"She says . . . they no longer have the discount. She's very sorry. She wanted to give you the discount."

I exhale a huge sigh of relief when I hand her my debit card and leave with my bagged groceries. As I give one more "so Sorry" smile to my line--I see outright smiles.

Poor Kathy, who was just starting to get over a week-long illness-had to wait outside the whole time wondering what in the world was taking so long. But we now have toilet paper to last a while.

Finally, there are skinny cats EVERYWHERE. In our neighborhood, the park, on campus. They just wander around. I've seen whole chicken breats set out on the dumpster for the cats to eat, but I don't think anyone owns any particular cat. In the park I saw a woman with a bag full of cat food laying out scoops all over. Same on campus. Almost no dogs, but lots of cats.

Also, I got to eat dinner at Sahar's house on Sunday--it was her mother's birthday, but her mother cooked all of the food and wouldn't even consider letting us do any dishes or clean-up. No way. It was delicious and massive! Chicken tomatoes and potatoes. Rice and ground beef wrapped and cooked in cabbage leaves. Rice with vegetables and chicken. Cucumber, mint, and tomato salad. Beets and pickles and vegetales in this tahini-tomato sauce. Then grapes, apples, nectarines and cake for dessert. Amazing. I also got to see the shepherds' fields in Bethlehem (cool caves where you can just wander around with no guide and no red tape).

Also, Analyn Scabalund (now Smith) is in my ward (a fellow Utah county swimmer whom I knew growing up). And I shared a cab back from Bethlehem with a Utah State University Prof. of Agriculture, here working on a research grant, who knows all of the weed mapping Grad Students and Prof's I worked with. He asked me what year I weed mapped for Prof Dewey. I said four or five years ago. Then he asked, "that was you then, with the trailer . . .?" Yes. That was me who wrecked the trailer. And no, they didn't ever get another one.