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: