Home Again

All went well in the end. I got on the midnight flight to New York on Sunday night. When I landed at JFK I had some trouble with U.S. immigration. The agent asked me all sorts of questions; including if I was really born in Sweden.

Then he tells me “I’m sorry I can’t let you in.” Huh? Wha? It was 5 in the morning and I was in no mood to get deported. My first sleepy thought was, “But who will feed my cats if I don’t get back in?”

I was transferred to “the room” where they question you further. The agent there was much nicer and just asked a few questions about employment etc. Then stamped the stamp and I was in. For the record, yes I am completely legal and all my papers are in order and up to date.

North Jersey never looked so beautiful.

At least I am infinitely better off than the U.S. born Palestinian guy who sat next to me on the plane. He had flown to Israel from L.A. to visit his cousin on the West Bank who had just had a baby. He wasn’t even let into Israel. They just put him on the next plane back. Just like that. Sayonara.

Ok. That’s all for now. Thanks for reading my friends.

As some old hippie once said. What a long strange trip it’s been.

And, since there are barely any pics of me on this blog, here are a few shots of me in Israel, courtesy of Emma:

At A Bar

Taking Photos in Haifa

In Yaffo/ Tel Aviv with Emma, Two hours before missing my plane

South Tel Aviv/ Yaffo

One thing I never mentioned on this blog was that Emma and I “moved” mid way through my stay in Tel Aviv. The first flat we stayed in was on King George, in central Tel Aviv. As of a week ago we have been staying at much nicer digs in the northern fringes of Yaffo. It’s in an old industrial area with spots of weird gentrification and fancyness that reminds me quite a bit of Williamsburg.

Here are some shots, there are more on my Flickr page, as usual.

“Our” House:

“Our” Street:

“Our” Back Yard:

Tel Aviv Street Art:

Small Synagogues:

Empty House:

I’m A Chump

So, I had hoped that my next post would be from my desk in Brooklyn. Those who know me well know that I am insanely nervous about being on time to catch trains, planes etc. Imagine my horror at having missed my flight.

I didn’t miss it exactly. Rather I arrived horrendously late, found the check-in desk closed and failed at convincing security to let me through to the gate.

The reason? Well, let’s just say I took a train 10 minutes on the wrong line and 10 minutes here and there added up to being nearly an hour late to the airport. The next plane leaves at midnight so now I have 9 hours to kill before boarding time. (Given I actually get on that plane which I sincerely hope I do.)

Seen from the bright side there is free wireless at the airport. Far better reception than at “home” so at least I can show you some of the photos I took in the last couple of days. Couldn’t upload those back in the apartment.

OK, if any of you read this during the day send me a prayer or whatever that I make it home by Monday morning.

What’s In a Street Name

Much like in the U.S. most cities here seem to have the same set of street names. This is what happens in a young country in love with its founding mythology, I suppose. So, there’s Ben Gurion, Herzl, Jabotinsky, Olei Zion etc.

This extends to Arab neighborhoods too. I can only imagine how galling it must be for a Palestinian to live on Olei Zion or Ben Gurion.

On a side note, it is amusing to see many of the same street names here as in Berlin — the only city outside Israel with a large number of streets named for dead Jewish thinkers. Heine, Rabin and Ben Gurion come to mind.

Quite a Day to Be in Jerusalem

Today was the day we finally made it to Jerusalem. As it turns out it was also the day a Palestinian construction worker lost his marbles and plowed down pedestrians with a tractor, killing 3 and wounding upwards of 40 people. When we walked out of the central bus station we walked head first into the aftermath. It happened right outside the station an hour and a half before we got there.

It was hard to tell if this had affected the mood in the city. I understand from what people tell me that the atmosphere is tense in Jerusalem at the best of times. A native Jerusalemite and former professor of mine once summed up Jerusalem of today as “a playground for bigots.” Besides benign religious people the place is overrun with gun-toting settler types and other wild-eyed fanatics. This is a shame because it is a beautiful city. There were far fewer tourists than what I remember from the last time I was there, in 1995. I was surprised at how empty the Arab shouk in the Old City was.

Emma and I set out for the Western Wall in the lat afternoon, just in time to catch a veritable flood of people, mostly Hasidim and various other Haredi types going there for evening prayers. Coming down the road we heard cracks of some kind of gun fire in the distance and saw flashes of it over the West Bank. It may have been just someone shooting into the air, then again, it may not. In the end we didn’t go all the way up to the Wall. We were put off by the very skittish atmosphere, heavy security and the fact that we were the only non-ultra-orthodox people there. Sad, but what can you do.

We ended our evening in Ein Kerem. An amazingly beautiful village/ neighborhood in Jerusalem with a nice-seeming population. The experience was somewhat soured by the information that it used to be a Palestinian village before 1948.

Jerusalem Pics.
As usual you click the photos for more Jerusalem photos on my Flickr.

Aftermath of the tractor attack:

In the Old City:

Emma & Dimi Walking in Ein Kerem:

Unwinding in Ein Kerem:

Shopworn Utopia

Yesterday I took a free Tel Aviv Bauhaus architecture tour. As some of you may know, Tel Aviv has the single largest concentration of Bauhaus buildings in the world. More than 4000 to be exact.

This is largely due to the large numbers of German-Jewish architects who ended up here in the ’30s and ’40s during a time when the Jewish population was expanding rapidly and needed to be housed somehow.

So it came to be that Zionist utopia was packaged in the so-called international style. That is; Bahaus with some Mediterranean tweaks. These houses can be seen all over Tel Aviv. Some in better repair than others.

Actually, this is one of the somewhat weird aspects of the city. It has this sort of feel of forlorn and discarded futurism and utopia. A space-age city stranded on a crummy beach. It sort of reminds me of that city in Star Wars: Phantom Menace. I believe it is called Mos Eisley.

Mos Eisley:

Tel Aviv:

Cool Corners

Described by the guide as the most perfect Bauhaus building in Tel Aviv. Has seen better days:

Windows:

The future in disrepair:

Yaffa x 2 Narratives

So, it turns out the beach we were at yesterday used to be a cemetery. Literally.

Today we got up earlier than we have so far to meet up with a friend of Emma’s. His name is Dimi and he is part of a Arab-Jewish coexistence organization in Yaffa. This week the organization was going for a tour of Yaffa. The tour incorporated two narratives of the city history; the Palestinian one and the official Zionist version. We tagged along with the tour and the subsequent discussions and lunch.

Again, it felt very strange returning to central Tel Aviv after having been in a more organic (albeit disrupted) urban setting. There is a lot I could say. For now I just give you some pics. As usual you can click the photos to see more on my flickr page.

Pausing for shade and a discussion of the historical part of the tour in the Arab-Hebrew Theatre of Yaffa:

Sami, the Palestinian tour guide briefs us on gentrification and displacement in modern day Yaffa:

Getting the Zionist narrative:

A razed house; most likely Palestinian:

Building new luxury developments:

Yaffa Cafe; a Hebrew-Arabic bookstore in Yaffa. Also excellent mint lemonade:

American Apparel Gays and The Situation

So, I’ll probably offend some people by saying this: I have seen very few people with any discernable “style” in Tel Aviv. That is, until I saw the American Apparel gays who work at the A.A. store down the street. I don’t usually get worked up over such things, but I do find it pretty funny that have the exact same Cheap Monday pants pre-fab hipster look as they would in the Brooklyn store. That’s all.

Also, this will sound banal and trite. And obviously I chose to travel here knowing full well what it would be like. But it really is so strange to be lounging on the beach and then go home and read the news and realize people were killed and rockets fired mere miles from where one is summering and stuffing one’s face with melon and hummus. Tel Aviv really is a strange place.

French, Me?

I’m not sure what the prevailing stereotype of French tourists is in Israel. Whatever it is, it seems me and Emma fit it. Most people we interact with seem to assume off the bat that we’re French. I suppose I should just be thankful I don’t come across as American? (Sorry folks… you know I love New York.)

Day Trip to Haifa

Sometimes it takes leaving a place to gain some perspective on it. Tel Aviv is fine. Yet, after visiting Haifa today I understand why people here like to complain of the lack of a sea breeze and natural beauty.

Our day trip Haifa high-lighted what a homogenous city Tel Aviv is. Haifa has a fairly large Arab-Israeli population, alongside the Jewish one. There also seems to be more religious variety within ethnic groups and religions in Haifa, judging from my very hasty observation. In Tel Aviv I haven’t seen many religious Jews and even fewer Muslims. In Haifa there were quite a few women in hijab, as well as Carmelite nuns and visible signs of Christian Arab religion. In all I found it somewhat easier to breathe in Haifa.

Also, insane amount of soliders on the train to and from Haifa. I suppose that is just the way things are in this country. I have to say, I am too much of a softy European/ New Yorker to be at ease when there is an Uzi in the seat next to mine.

We could see Lebanon from Mt. Carmel. I wonder how long it would take to go from Tel Aviv to Beirut by train if such a thing was possible. (It isn’t.) Two hours? One, on a high-speed train? That would be neat.

Remains of our Lunch in Wadi Nisnas

The owner; photo taken on the sly.

Quite possibly the best coffee I’ve had in my life. And I know from coffee.

We wen’t to the top.

And looked down.

That’s Lebanon in the far background.

More photos on my Flickr page.