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:

Farewell to Berlin. Hello Tel Aviv

So, I’ve arrived in Israel. Flying from Berlin, over central Europe I’ve got to say: Damn it’s flat. Just fields all the way from Berlin to Bulgaria basically. Talk about West Asian steppe.

When I got off the plane the 60-ish man who had been sitting one seat down from me on the flight asked me where I was from. “Sweden,” I said. “Sweden? no, no, no! Hair not blonde.”

I’ve had this conversation in many varied forms before, good to know it never fails. Actually, never had it in Berlin this time. Not sure if they

A.) Just assumed I was American. B.) Are too P.C. to ask.

My taxi driver was a friendly Buhkaran Jew from Tasjkent. He didn’t speak much English and I speak virtually no Hebrew, but that didn’t stop us from yammering away all the way in to Tel Aviv.

I usually don’t initiate conversations with taxi drivers. It can be a bit of a crapshot, more often than not you find yourself fending off questions about your love life. This guy was 100% appropriate. I learned he had three kids, got to see a cellphone pic of his newborn son and learned that he had family in Queens, NYC (holla!) and Phoenix, Arizona. Also he once drove a tank in Gaza and used to be a photographer in Uzbekistan.

I didn’t want to pigeon hole him and talk about Queens, sheep roasts and diamonds. He had no such qualms. He talked diamond merchants and Lev Leviev with great pride. Also, he waxed poetic about the fine culture of Ukraine, Uzbekistan and other FSRs.

View from our Tel Aviv window. (Click for more pics on my Flickr page.)

Narcissism in Tel Aviv Bedroom:

Our Tel Aviv Bedroom:

One last pic from Berlin (me and my Berliner Weisse)

German Glossary

One great thing about traveling to Berlin is that I get to learn new and useful German words. Last time I was here, 3 years ago the take-home word was “ausländischer Mitbürger.”

This time too, I learned some new words:

Burgerpüppchen

Notgeile

Blümchensex

Türk-i-ye! Türk-i-ye!

Last night David and Laura took me to watch the Turkey – Czech game at a Turkish beer garden in Kreuzberg. Borg am See, I believe it was called. At first I was only so-so in to it. I have never been a big sports fan. But mass psychosis soon had me standing on the bench screaming Türk-i-ye! Türk-i-ye! with the rest of them. That and the fact that Turkey got back from almost losing 0-2, then made 3 goals in rapid succession toward the end. As soon as the game was over people streamed to their cars and commenced speeding and flag-waving through the streets until the riot police came out in full force.

First I was tempted to find a Turkish flag of my own. Then, after an hour or so I’d had it up to here with the nationalism and the giant posters of Kemal Atatürk. I was tempted to start shouting “PKK! Ödzalan!” and “Free Kurdistan” or something along those lines. Probably good that I didn’t.

Unfortunately I left my camera at home. This slide show in the Berliner Zeitung pretty much captures what the streets looked like.

Lund

Am in Lund now. Well, actually I arrived by train late Tuesday night but not much has happened since. It’s much colder than in it was in Stockholm and has been raining on and off since I got here. That puts a damper on things. Seen from the bright side at least I’ve had time to sit down and get some work done, which I’ve been sorely neglecting since I got to Sweden.

Map of Sweden including Lund and Stockholm:

Today’s view from my mother’s living room window:

(Clicking the photo will take you to my Flickr set for this trip)

White Nights

One of the most amazing things about Stockholm is the white nights in June. Even though I grew up here I am blown away by the beauty of it every time. It is one of the few things I deeply miss about Stockholm, besides my friends.

This photo is from Västerbron last night at 11 p.m. I was on my way from Maria’s in Hökarängen to Melinda’s on Kungsholmen. I think Ulf Lundell, a Swedish author once said this view always gives him the same feeling as when he hears “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Me, I think of Monica Zetterlund’s “Sakta Vi Gå Genom Stan.”

(Clicking the photo will take you to my Flickr set for this trip)

Cafe String and a Visit to the Embassy

What’s that quote… I keep getting older, the high school girls stay the same?

That’s sort of how I feel right now. I’m writing from the venerable Cafe String. Anybody who has been to Stockholm with me knows String is sort of a favorite of mine. It is a rather unappetizing cafe full of used furniture and high schoolers in vintage clothes. Still, I can’t help myself. They have couches and free wireless access. The place was probably 10 or 15 years old back when I was in high school and well, that’s 10 or 15 years ago by now. I saw a girl I could have sworn was my friend Ellen, then realized she probably looks 10 years younger than the real Ellen. Weird.

(Clicking the photo will take you to my Flickr set for this trip)

The weather just keeps on being wonderful. I spent the weekend meandering across Stockholm by foot and on bike meeting various people for coffee and drinks. If I could export all my friends to New York life would truly be perfect. For me at least.

This morning I had my appointment to apply for a visa at the U.S. embassy (I have the work permit but need a new entry visa.) Always an odd experience. The embassy is a heavily fortified brutalist cold war structure by Gärdet. You wait on line on the sidewalk for 1.5 hour to clear security (no cell phones or other electronics allowed). Then you come in, wait on one line, hand over your stuff, sit on another line and eventually get called up to a window. A uniquely American style of bureaucracy. Not saying Swedish bureaucracy is less maddening, just different. Swedish bureaucracy has no air-conditioning, pastel walls and “nummer lappar” (numbered tickets).

This evening I am having dinner at Maria’s and Pelle’s in Hökarängen. Tomorrow I take the late evening train to Lund. I’m supposed to be working on an article there so perhaps I will have more exciting stuff to tell in a few days.

Hasta Luego

Flag Day

Writing this from my Dad’s and Hephzibah’s kitchen, watching my sister and Hephzibah cook Shabbes dinner.

Today is the Swedish National Day, or flag day. For my American friends that’s sort of like independence day except not, since Sweden used to be a colonizer not a colony.

It started out on a not-so-great note. On my way down into the subway I found there was a minor racist/nazi rally at Karlaplan, a small square (or a circle actually) close to where I am staying. The place was pretty much on lockdown and the cops seemed very annoyed at having to allow these guys to do their thing, which somewhat redeemed it. Nonetheless it put me in a pretty foul mood. I’ve been having a lot of conflicted emotions lately so it was nice to experience very pure anger for once.

Anyhoo, the day got much better when I arrived at my friend Rebecka’s birthday party, held in her mom’s garden. All my Swedish friends were there and it was sunny and perfect. Spent the afternoon sitting in the grass drinking mimosas. Babies everywhere. Photos to come.

Schweden – Hölle oder Paradies?

Switched on the TV shortly after arriving and got a true only in Sweden moment.

It was some C-Span type live coverage of the Swedish parliament. It turned out to be a special session with “the five national minorities.” Like a little delegation of Jews, a little delegation of Roma etc. Each with a sign in front of them reading “Romska Minoriteten,” “Judiska Minoriteten,” and so on.

They each stepped up and did a show and tell, sung a song, explained their/ our history in Sweden, problems faced and plans for the future. Then a scheduled kaffepaus and an admonition to be bqack on time. “We are so glad to have our minorities; they make Sweden so much more colorful and interesting.” Incredibly bizarre to watch, fresh off the plane from New York. Watch for the upcoming web portal “minoritet.se”

Also, given the current demographics of Sweden, why are there two Finnish-speaking “national minorities” but no Arab or Muslim ones?