Josh Levinger

Left today for a birthright trip to Israel with Jared and Kali. It’s a free trip offered to young Jews who haven’t been to Israel before, to help them appreciate the state, and maybe get them to fall in love and make Jewish babies. Neither of these ends are our goals, but a free plane ticket around the world is too good to pass up.

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El-Al 747

Jared failed the Jewish test administered by El-Al, and was searched closely before being allowed on the flight. When they found his Arabic textbook, they decided he was a security risk, and he was escorted onto the plane before the rest of us, surrounded by burly guards. This was an ignominious start.

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This is why we’re hot

Today we woke near the Sea of Galilee, at what is called a kibbutz but appears to really be a motel. Vivi, our tour guide, is almost unbearably chipper, and wakes us each morning to the dulcet tones of Israeli pop and cries of “boker tov.” Took a short hike up to a military base to get accustomed to the heat and humidity.

Lunch in the Kabbalist town of Tzvat which now appears to be simply a tourist trap. Then we went river rafting on the river Jordan, which is really just a stream. The current was fast enough to be fun, particularly when going around corners. Joel, one of our American guides, fell out of his raft, and decided to join ours on short notice. He dove in head first, causing Jared and I to duck. Kali didn’t see him coming, and got his face slammed into the top of her head. She had a sore noggin, but he got a bruise that lasted the rest of the trip.

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Crump vs clown

After dinner, and an activity to discover our Judaism, we went on a cruise around the Sea in something resembling an Ark. Jared got his dance on, crumping with Vivi. Bruce, a former WNBA cheerleader, also showed his moves.

In the morning we climbed a waterfall in the Golan, which served as an excellent shower. Then we drove to Mt Bental which overlooks the Syrian border and contains a bunker from the 1967 war. It’s clearly put together as a tourist attraction, but is fun as a piece of kitsch. We got to listen to a one-sided history lesson about the various wars, the heroism of the Israeli tank commanders, and why the taking of the Golan Heights was a defensive move. While I concede that taking the high ground is a strategically important objective, the idea that Israel only fights defensive wars is clearly false.

We drove to Jerusalem, and prepared for the Mega Event, a gathering of all the birthright groups in country at the moment for a ritual orgy of zionism. The thousands of waving flags, thumping pop music, and unthinking group dynamic was reminiscent of rallies at Nuremberg. At least there was a dance party afterwards, where I was able to work out my political tension by unbuttoning my shirt and getting my groove on. I channel every eurotrash/arzt stereotype, and made a total fool of myself. It was glorious.

Today at breakfast we pondered the nature of faux coffee (Nescafe) that refuses to dissolve in water. I proposed soap to bridge the polar and non-polar natures of the two substances, but Kali was not amused. She can be a little grouchy before she gets her fix.

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Strong city walls

We toured the City of David, which is used as archaeological proof for the existence of a Jewish state. While there is no direct evidence that there was a king named David at the time in question, there were clearly Jews living in the city at about the time described by the Bible. We walked through a water tunnel, designed by the Jebecites, from the fortified city to a hidden spring beyond the walls.

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Holy sights

After an excellent lunch along the Cardo, the old Roman shopping street, that remains remarkably unchanged, we went to the Western Wall. This was more powerful for me than I expected, to see something so old that was clearly “mine” was a different experience than other famous ruins. Of course, the destruction of the neighborhood that used to be against the wall, after Israeli paratroopers took it back in 1967, tempered the experience slightly. It is incredible that the Jewish and Muslim holy sites are literally right on top of each other, making any attempt to draw rational borders an exercise in futility. Still, it was awesome to see those huge stones unmoved by time and conflict.

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Rooftop partay

We had another evening activity, where we discussed our experiences of antisemitism. I had none to share, but it was moving to hear those of others who grew up in less affluent, or more ignorant, parts of the country and world. The group was surprisingly good about understanding antisemitism as just one part of all racism, which must be opposed in all forms. Then we watched a documentary about the flight of Israeli F-15s over Auschwitz, which was almost Brucknerian in its homage to military power. Hard to reconcile Top Gun and Vad Yashem, but we dealt by having a party on our rooftop deck.

Today was emotionally exhausting. After breakfast, we went to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial. It affected me more than the US Memorial, although that could be due to the seriousness of the group dynamic. The Hall of Names was particularly powerful; a circular room dedicated to the remembrance of the lives of the victims, with a large empty section for those who will never be found. The architecture was a little much, with the exhibit hall encased underground in concrete but opening on an expansive view of Jerusalem. Others found it moving, but I thought it bordered on cliche. Also, the exhibits on the hardship of life in the ghetto behind imposing walls, failed to acknowledge that Israel is currently building to enclose other communities.

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Then we went to Mt Herzl, the military cemetery and a memorial to the founder of Zionism. Ivtak showed us the grave of his friend, an American to who rushed back to Israel at the start of the Second Lebanon War. He was killed after paratrooping behind lines and searching houses for Katyushas. After the heavy day, we went to a bar that was rented out for us. Brandy taught me more about the Napoleonic code than I’ll ever need to know, and Craig pissed in a drain. Good times.

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I dig her

Today we went on an archaeology dig and fully embraced our Indiana Jones l participated in a real dig, excavating 2,000 year old trash piles. I found bits of animal bone, pottery and charred remains of cooking fires. Exciting stuff, and everyone (male and female) fell in love with the young guide.

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Our soldiers

We were joined at lunch by six young soldiers, each younger than I am. They’re all predictably beautiful, toned by their service to their country. We broached political discussions carefully, but they were willing to talk about their experience. While I appreciate the democratic effect of universal conscription, I’m not sure it helps toward building a lasting peace. Each soldier we met was convinced that the enemy want to destroy us; which makes sense given their experience, but is not representative of the broader truth.

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Challah back

We shopped both at a mall, and also at a real market in the city. Roughly half the group each enjoyed one experience and found the other intolerable. I loved the crowd at the market, surrounded by language and culture we didn’t get while driving on the bus, isolated from the community. And clicheed pictures abound.

Then we had a Shabbat service, which was inclusive of everyone’s level of Jewish knowledge. Oneg Shabbat was on the roof, celebrating the view and fresh air until the wee hours. Thank the Lord we don’t have to wake up tomorrow at 6.

Slept until noon, mercifully. Spent most of the day lounging around, as it was too hot to take a tour of the Hasidic community. Then we drove through the Negev to Masada, where it was 45C at night. To bed at 11, knowing we have to wake up at 4.

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Masada sunrise

Climbed Masada for sunrise, which was useful both for the kitsch factor and to preempt the blazing sun. Jared and I hiked quickly to beat the crowd to the top and enjoy the silence, interrupted only by our heaving breath. The climb was maybe a mile, but almost 500 vertical meters. Sunrise was gorgeous, and I got some excellent pictures. I toured the site alone, and then again with the rest of the group.

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Dead Sexy at the Dead Sea

We hiked down, and then drove to the fresh springs at Ein Gedi. The cool water counted both as my bath of the day, and the washing of my clothes. There was a good natured algae fight, with only a few civilian casualties. Then to the Dead Sea, where we bought the healing black mud and slathered it on. Jared and I did swamp monster impressions, and we floated superman style in the warm saline sea. Despite warnings that the brine would sting any open wounds, my cuts didn’t hurt too much.

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Then to the Bedouin tenting experience, which was as much minstrel show as cultural interaction. We discussed various military ethical situations with our soldiers, which upset Jared and Kali. Then we were thrown into a boot camp simulation, where we learned the joys of doing pushups on brokn glass and performing manual labor. We decompressed by drinking wine from the bottle under the stars and throwing rocks at the darkness.

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Desert Rose

Woke up in the tent, unmolested by spiders, despite Kali’s worst fears. Then we rode camels off into the desert, which was less fun that it might seem. The ride was pretty bumpy, and I actually walked back, letting someone else get jostled for ten minutes. The camel toe jokes flowed freely.

Then we stopped at a crater and Ben Gurion’s grave before we drove to Tel Aviv. Once there we went to the beach, where we ambushed Craig with squirt gunes, and defended our women from the advances of speedo-clad Israelis.

Today was the end of the group part of the journey, and the mood was somber. We did one last Kumbaya group meeting, and then went to Independence Hall for a final dose of propaganda. Then to the airport, where we were finally set free. We flew to Eilat, which was expensive but so much better than yet another long bus ride.

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Really big Jordanian flag

Eilat is approximately 47C, which feels like being inside an oven. The town, which my mother described as quaint 30 years ago, is now a resort and strip mall, devoid of any real character. We might as well have been in Miami. However, the mall is air-conditioned and serves good shwarma. We went out to buy beer, but got fooled by Nesher Malty, which is non-alcoholic and tastes like motor oil. Despite the badass eagle label, it appears to just be for small men and pregnant women.

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The Siq

We woke early for our 7:10 pickup to Petra. Crossed the Jordanian border with the pink Care Bear on my back, I dispelled the strange glances by stroking my lush beard. Driving across the Jordanian desert, we gawked at Bedouins and the Lawrence of Arabia-esque landscape. Petra was relatively cooler, perhaps only 40C due to the altitude. It apparently snows in the winter, but no sign of that now. We walked down the narrow Siq, the natural canyon entrance to the city. The way is lined by small altars in niches, and a statue of a caravan that serves as a directional road sign. The architecture is Roman-influence, but uniquely Arab. The whole thing has the same “lost city” feel that Tikal had, although in the desert and not the jungle.

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The Treasury

The ingenuity put into defense from enemies and nature was incredible. When the Jordanians built dams to protect the site from periodic floods, they found Nabatean dams in the same spots the modern engineers chose. Also, because the facades are carved from a solid rock face, they have to go from top to bottom. Clear planning must have occured to have a unified architecture. The walk uphill to the parking lot was rather sweaty, but at least we didn’t become the ugly Americans by hiring a horse drawn cart to haul us home. We slept on the bus ride back, and took an exhausted swim in the Red Sea. We had burgers at a British pub for dinner. It wasn’t good, but at least it wasn’t falafel.

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Sand Covered Highway

We woke in the morning to another blistering day, and made the decision to go further south. We took a taxi to the Egyptian border, singing along with the driver to “Forever Young.” We meant to catch a bus from there to Cairo but were conviced by an official, in his unofficial job as a hotel tout, to take a taxi. After some meagerly successful haggling, we got into his man’s car and sped off. And I do mean sped; we drove through the narrow canyons in the left lane on blind curves while the driver laughed gleefully. When sand covered one lane in the Sinai, we drove in the other. This was not confidence inspiring. He spoke some English, or at least enough to ask for more money, which we did not intend to agree to, but he misconstrued my response. Somehow “we’ll see when we get there” became “I’ll pay whatever you ask.” When we got to Cairo, he pulled aside an obliging police officer to help his side of the argument. We paid almost what he asked, just so he would go away. Welcome in Egypt, as they say.

Hotel Luna is a wonderful respite from the heat and bustle of the city. Situated on one of the upscale shopping streets, nestled between a watch and shoe store, up a rickety elevator, it’s a truly Romantic place. We went to dinner at Gad Diner, which serves excellent fast food, and apparently delivers. An unfriendly ATM ate Jared’s bank card, setting up a whole litany of money issues. The lesson here is, don’t put your card into machines that are not attached to banks, so you always have someone to yell at.

We left the hotel intending to take a bus to the Pyramids, but getting to the depot near Midan Tahrir, it was too confusing for that early in the morning, so we relented and paid too much for a taxi. It was an exciting ride, as the drivers in Cairo pay no attention to traffic laws, if any even exist. Lanes, lights, and pedestrians, all are mere figments of the imagination to the Cairo driver. Judicious use of the horn and vulgar language smoothed our transit. We learned many good Arabic swears from Itai in Israel, but are afraid to use them in Egypt, because their use would surely result in our immediate and painful death. Ask me for useful examples, which will pepper my language upon my return to the Western world.

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GeoBear at the Pyramids

It was hot as ever at the Pyramids, but the excitement of walking around the only remaining ancient wonder made the experience more bearable. We entered into one of the side pyramids made for Khufu’s queen; it was hot and humid, not unlike a sauna, and entirely unremarkable inside. We chose not to stand in line to repeat the experience. A friendly man hanging out with the guards offered to show us some newly excavated tombs, and I agreed without consulting the group. I expected that it would cost some baksheesh, but thought it would be worth it for the experience. He took us far from other tourists, showing us the tomb of the engineer who directed the construction, and that of his family. He reminded us that taking pictures was not allowed, but he would let it be our secret. Then he staged cheesy photographs of us, the Care Bear, and the pyramids behind. These seemed ridiculous at the time, but were totally worth it in retrospect. Then, when we were out of sight of anyone else, he asked for 300 Egyptian pounds, or around $60. This was really out of our price range, and I made a counter offer of L100. He was appalled at my lack of consideration for him and his friends, and he reminded me that this price was for the whole group, not just per person. How generous. We dithered back and forth, and finally convinced him that we are just poor students, and while we appreciated his time, we could only give him L150. He then tried to give us our money back if we were unsatisfied, putting us in the position of demanding that he take at leas some money. Very smart, this guy. We got out of there a little bit poorer, perhaps no wiser but a whole lot more wary.

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Groppi’s

We had lunch at Groppi’s coffee shop in Sharia Talaat Harb. The food was mediocre and the service painfully slow, but the airconditioning and ambience were wonderful. Then we staggered around the museum, completely exhausted and overwhelmed by the trove of treasures lying about with little explanation. The building itself is from the 1850′s, and the exhibits don’t seem to have been updated since. We did see some excellent animal mummies, including a 25 foot long crocodile, an enormous fish, and a pensive monkey. King Tut’s tomb was on tour, but the man himself and some of his bling was still there. That dude had gold coverings for each of his fingers, putting fitty cent to shame.

After a nap, we went out for dinner. The first place we tried informed us that they only serve liver and brains. I was unaware that such a diet existed; in any case we passed on such culinary delights. The owner did reccomend a spot where we could get some vegetables for Kali. The place seemed nice enough, with clean tables and excellent music videos on the tele. I ordered stuffed pigeon, as it seemed the thing to do, and certainly less adventurous than liver and brains. It was tasty and filling, but my stomach reacted poorly. At least everyone else got sick too, so it was probably the restaurant as a whole and not just my order.

We walked and shopped through the evening, and met a man named Mohammed (it seems like everyone’s name is Mohammed), who spoke excellent English and was exceedingly friendly. He works at the Museum, and offered to help Jared find a phone to deal with the bank that ate his card. After our experience being ripped off twice today, we were understandably wary when he asked us to accompany him to his cousin’s perfume shop. Everyone’s cousin owns a shop they’re delighted to show you. As the cousin put an aphrodisiac perfume on Kali’s arm that is intended to keep the husband up all night (we are married for the week), we decided it was time to go. We extracted ourselves as delicately as possible, but he seemed genuinely offended. I don’t think he was trying to scam us, and really just wanted to practice English, but we don’t have the money to be scammed three times a day. What a city!

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Jared and Care Bear

Today we dealt with the ravages of shil-shul, and rearranging travel plans. It won’t be possible for us to go down to Luxor, it will make catching my return flight just too risky. So, more time in Cairo and Jerusalem, and we’ll see the Valley of the Kings next time, insh’allah.

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Sunset window

In the evening Kali and I wandered through Islamic Cairo to Khan el Khalilli. Jared slept, as he’s the worst of the three of us. Through narrow streets, to places where we were the only tourists, by mosques that seem unchanged for a thousand years, this was the Cairo I came to see. We stopped in spice and cotton shops where the owners didn’t speak any english but were happy to show us around anyways. To a coffee shop where old men smoked shisha and played cards while the call to prayer reverberated across the rooftops.

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Hookah dude

Kali and I got lost in the wonder of it all, and in reality. Eventually we came to the touristy bazaar, where we bought some kitsch and she got earrings. But for a few minutes, before we strayed too close to the glitz and the touts, we were really there. Back through the bustling, throbbing modernity of the shopping district, to bed to tend to our poor sick Jared.

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Jerusalem Sunrise

It took all day to get back to Jerusalem. First a taxi across the Sinai to Taba, although this was arranged by our hotel, so it was the same price and we didn’t have to haggle endlessly. It took slightly longer, because the driver obeyed the speed limit (if there is one), but the margin of safety was welcome. Then a plane from Eilat to Tel Aviv, and a bus from there to Jerusalem. A long day, and now we are in the Citadel Hostel in the Old City. It comes highly reccomended by the guidebook, but the tomblike rooms seem to crumble before our eyes. The view from the roof is spectacular, and the internet and coffee are free. These are the things that truly matter.

Today we wandered around the Old City. It’s divided into quarters on the map, but there is no physical distinction on the ground. The feel just changes suddenly as one crosses a particular street; the signs change from Hebrew to Arabic, and the peyes are replaced by veils. It’s an almost jostling change in culture, and reaffirms the difficulty of drawing boundaries on such an ethnically and historically dense space.

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Varouj

At a photography store, we wandered in and marveled at the prints. Varouj, the elderly proprietor, introduced himself, and we spent an hour with him discussing the history of his life and this place. He had been in the same store since 1963, and had taken a famous picture of King Hussein of Jordan. Because he is Armenian, he had an entirely different set of racial prejudices (“I’m not Arab, I like people”), but a fascinating context to share.

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Wailing Wall

We went to the Western Wall at night, both to see it again without our tour and to try and get into the Dome of the Rock. The site was full of worshipers, so we didn’t enter the wall proper, but stayed at a respectful distance and took photographs. So much for sacred space. The gender division of the wall is quite shocking, and I joked with Kali that God doesn’t exist on “her side” of the 80/20 split. She was not amused. We eventually found the gate to the Temple Mount, but found it closed to non-Muslims. The Arab guard was not nearly as friendly as the Israelis had been, and he was intent on his task of separating the believers from the tourists.

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The Security Fence

Today we crossed the Security Barrier into Bethlehem, ostensibly to see the Church of the Nativity, but really just to see the wall from the other side. We were able to pass easily with our American passports, although we had to wait in line with everyone else when an alarm sounded and the guards all put their blast vests on. Then the alarm stopped, everyone looked aroud, and business went back to normal. Palestinians have to show two forms of ID and a reason for crossing, but we were waved through without any hassle. Ethnic profiling at its finest. The crossing cuts across the old road from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, and while there is a bus stop and a turnaround on the Israeli side, the Palesinian side is a mob of taxis at a dead end road.

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Our taxi driver

Bethlehem used to be a major tourist attraction, and the infrastructure is still there, but not the tourists. We went to the Shepards Field, where they saw the stars that heralded Jesus’ birth, and stopped in a tourist shop that was overjoyed to open up (they had to turn the lights on) and have me browse for a few minutes. I spent ten dollars, and they thanked me profusely. The shopkeeper joined our taxi ride and told us about her sister whose son was sick and unable to cross to get decent medical treatment in Israel. Such is life on the other side.

I finally arrived home exhausted after 24 hours of straight travel. From Jerusalem I took a bus to Tel Aviv, where I went through the security gauntlet again. I was inspected on the bus as I approached the airport, and then again in line, where my interrogator was delirious with fatigue at the end of her all night shift. I now sympathize.

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The Bosporus

I ran into Rich and Scott in the airport, and chatted with them on the plane. They didn’t make it all the way up Kilimanjaro, as Rich got pulmonary edema and heard his lungs crack when they began to fill with liquid. So they went back down and went on a safari instead. He seemed alright a few days later, but was still shaken from his brief visit to a Tanzanian hospital. In the air, we flew almost directly over Istanbul That visit will have to wait for another trip.

On landing at JFK, I got a bus to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and then the Greyhound to Boston. This was almost more arduous than the flight itself. Why New York, with their comprehensive subway system, doesn’t have a decent transit link between their airports and the downtown is beyond me. Yes, there is the AirTrain, but it doesn’t go anywhere near where I needed to get.

I staggered out of the T and stumbled home, where I greeted Mike with my shaggy beard and personal aroma. He welcomed me with open arms, a sign of our true love. Now just to recover from my jetlag, exhaustion and shilshul, before I start work on Monday. It was an incredible trip, and a fitting break between my old life and my new. Next year in Ulaan Bataar!