A Five Mile Walk in the Early Evening

After returning from work and chatting with the owner of the house we're living in, Diana and I decided to go exploring. Joe had suggested we check out the Research and Development complex right across the street from his house--where many people walk their dogs, he said. It houses Jackson State University, the national HQ of the junior league of Phi Kappa Alpha (?), the Mississippi Library Commission...and many other state-run things.

After realizing there wasn't really much to do there, we took our expert exploring skills and put them to use when we laid eyes on a complex of old abandoned buildings across from the Mississippi School for the Deaf.

Here's what we saw:

Our first view of the mysterious abandoned complex. Inside, we discovered by climbing on a stair rail covered by overgrown branches, is an (empty) pool.

I love doors, and I love urban decay, and this is perhaps the best combination of the two.

Some bowling pins in a shed with broken windows and slashed screens.

Turns out this complex was the old location of the School for the Deaf and the School for the Blind. We don't know why it was abandoned, but everything seems to be in pretty bad shape and appears to have been empty for quite some time, given the state of the paint and the glass. But why hasn't the area been cleaned up?

Those benches must have been from a cafeteria. Furniture was discarded everywhere, there was hardly a clear spot on the asphalt.

I loved the light here.

Through the blinds.

An outside walkway between classrooms, it looks like. Everything was eerily overgrown and untidy, and we kept jumping at every sound.

The pool building, from the other side.

 Done exploring the abandoned complex, we took the underpass under I-55 and wound up on the should of the Frontage Rd, the road the essentially runs parallel to the interstate the whole way. There were no sidewalks to be seen, so we walked in the grass. The road was empty.

Somewhere along the way we saw mimosas, these beautiful flowers.

 Eventually we found our way into a gated neighborhood called Woodland Hills (I think). The air was beautiful and the ranch houses quaint.

Neither of us liked this big, ugly brick wall surrounding someone's house. It was also cracked like this in multiple places.

Strangely untidy for the tip-top condition of this neighborhood.

 When we resurfaced from the curving roads of the neighborhood, we realized that we were in Fondren, the hip part of town where we had dinner last night. We hadn't even know you could walk there (and I guess if you don't consider walking along the road that runs parallel to the highway feasible, then you can't walk there). We wandered around a bit, and wound up back at Sneaky Beans cafe.

This poster/graffiti was up in the garbage pick-up lot behind Sneaky Beans. "I love myself & so should you" it says.

At some point we realized that it was getting dark, and walking back the way we came was not a safe option. We only had the number of one person from work, so we called her and asked if she could pick us up; she sent our friend, who was helping her move in to her apartment, and he drove us back home. We made a delicious dinner for ourselves, and even have leftovers for lunch!

When we went to www.mapmyrun.com we learned that our explorations had taken us on a walk of more than five miles. I'd call that a successful meandering.

Picnic in the Park, Reading at the Diner (and a little about work)

Today started off with a brief intro to the office (copy machines, codes, printers, logins, etc.) before we actually met with our supervisor to speak in depth about our projects for the summer. For Diana and I, that meant a crash course about what kinds of information we're looking to present about the Jewish communities in the towns we're researching as well as a tutorial about historical research methods including how to make census records useful to us (ie: if the guy's name is Joseph Meyers, but his father was born in Kentucky and his mother in Indiana and he's a farmer in Oklahoma--but if both his parents are from Russia and his kids are named Esther and Moses, and his native tongue is "Hebrew" [ie: Yiddish, since no one spoke Hebrew in the early 1900s] then he's a Jew).

Our supervisor, Dr. Stuart Rockoff (director of the ISJL history department) introduced us to all these really cool history resources I didn't know existed! Like the 1937 Jewish population study completed by Dr. Harry Linfield. The first community I'll be working on is the Jewish community of Ponca City, OK. We make our first roadtrip out to Oklahoma in about a week and a half!

For lunch, the entire office went to on a picnic at a park nearby--I think is called LeFleur's Bluff, but might be wrong (it was right on the Pearl River, and right behind the Mississippi Children's Museum). In any case, a couple of us took the opportunity to wander the trails, and it was the first time I've ever really seen marsh/swamp.

On our way back we caught sight of this snake hanging out in a "river" created because of last night's storm--which did not wake me up.

For dinner we went to Brent's, a local diner with an old-timey feel. It's right next to McDade's, one of the non-Krogers groceries in Jackson, and both were featured in various scenes from The Help. Though the movie came out a while ago, people in Jackson are still talking about: not many movies are actually filmed down here (though much if it was filmed in Greenwood, MS).

On the first Tuesday evening of every month, Brent's Diner hosts play readings by local playwrights/actors from the Fondren Theater Workshop. This evening was a play by (Pittsburgh-native) Bret  Kenyon called "Open Mic" and it was fantastic.  The one-act won an award early this year from the Mississippi Theater Association. 

A Driving Tour of Jackson

Last night and today were very much a day of introductions to Jackson specifically, and the culture of the South more generally.

Highlights:

1. Sunday in the South is like Shabbat in Jerusalem. Nothing is opened. Except for the hippie-dippie "Rainbow Co-op" which has free memberships for students with college IDs.

2. Everybody knows Macy Hart, and not just folks from Jackson. Macy is the president of the Institute. But he was (for all you camp people reading this) the Jerry Kaye of Camp Jacobs down in Utica, MS. He was the director for thirty years before making the Museum of the Southern Jewish Experience and then the Institute his full-time job. Nearly everyone I've met who heard I was going to be doing Jewish things in Jackson this summer said to pass along regards to Macy (including the president of the Princeton Alumni Association down here).

3. Jackson is a tiny city. And by "tiny" I mean that, on I-55 (yes, Chicagoans, I-55 goes through Jackson in it's way to New Orleans!), you can cross the whole city in about 15 minutes.

4. This is not a walking town, and neither is it a public transportation town. While that is unfortunate (and I plan to walk down the middle of some of the sleepy streets in the area I'm living), Diana and I (the other intern with whom I'm living this summer) have full use of the Institute's minivan for the summer. (Lucky for me, I actually know how to drive minivans! In fact, they're the only kind of motor vehicle I know how to drive!) But, we've been told, if we want to go to New Orleans for a weekend (yes) we have to rent a car (no) or take the train (yes).

5. Lemuria Books is an independent bookstore that we stopped in, and it is the only other bookstore I've ever been to in my entire life that comes anywhere near having the same kind of nook-and-cranny/labyrinthine wonderful layout that the Seminary Co-op bookstore in Hyde Park does. For some wonderful pictures of the Seminary Co-op, check out the Tumblr of my friends Eleanor and Merrill, who are doing a cross-country tour of independent bookstores. (For pictures of Lemuria, you'll have to wait, but I plan on going back).

6. Jewish Geography is alive and well, even down here where I thought I knew no Jews. Turns out that the house I was hosted at my first night down here used to be rented by one of the outgoing two-year post-college Education fellows--who, in college, was roommates with my cousin Eric! Not only that, but this same fellow was also roommates (in that house) with a counselor of mine from camp--and one of the current residents of that house is a friend of a friend who I've actually met a couple of times. Small, small world. My roommate is also, it turns out, a friend of a good friend from camp.

Other than that, today was our first day at work which consisted of short presentations by each of the departments at the Institute to introduce us to the work that everyone else is doing. Plus, of course, a tour of Jackson that included the street where many scenes from the movie The Help were shot--and many other things, which I won't write about till I go back and really get to find out more about them.

For the second summer in a row I have been very lucky to live with another intern(last summer: interns) who I really like. We even have the same ring!

Hopefully I'll get to walk around and take some pictures soon, since I know that picture-posts are better than written posts.

Headed Down South

I've decided to revive the blog for the summer, as I'll be in Jackson, Mississippi, which someone told me "is more foreign than Israel." So for her sake--and yours--I'll be sharing tidbits from the South for the next two months.

First, a bit about where I am and why I'm here: I'm a history intern at the Institute of Southern Jewish Life which is, pretty much, exactly what it sounds like. There are four other interns (including a Rabbinical Intern) who will be here as well, but so far I'm the only one down here. The post-college Education Fellows are in town already, and I'm staying with a few of them at their place tonight. Our orientation starts tomorrow, which is when I'll have a better idea of what I'll be doing. The history department, under the guidance of Dr. Stuart Rockoff (who picked me up at the airport when I arrived), works to document the Jewish communities of the South--a very broadly-defined term such that it includes Oklahoma, the state that our work this summer will be concentrating on, I believe.

To get here, I flew (Southwest, of course) from Chicago to Houston, and from Houston to Jackson. There were no problems along the way, though it did seem a bit silly to go all the way west to Texas only to go back eastward to Jackson. It gives me an excuse to put a shout-out here to my favorite Texans, Nicole and Claire!

I could have just taken I-55 all the way south, though, straight from Chicago to Jackson!

(Oh, and the title of this blog is a reference to the Bob Dylan song, song by Old Crow Medicine Show, "Wagon Wheel")

Delicious Kunafa and Rooftop Wanderings: The Final Adventures

THE FINAL WEEK:

Group dinner at Kedma, a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Old City. (One of the ones where we all look semi-decent)

Surprise! Went to visit Galya. We made noodles and pesto (we love noodles), and then afterwards sauteed an entire onion just for fun. Delicious. 

Yes, Tel Aviv's Central Bus Station is the second largest central bus station in the world. It's also considered a failure: most of the shops in its seven floors it are empty. What it does have is a synagogue (in fact, these are signs for one on the 3rd floor and one on the 6th. There may be others, too);

This is a bus that was right next to me on my way back from Tel Aviv.  This picture doesn't show the full diversity of people that were on the bus. But every single person was Thai, Filipino, Indian, Sudanese, or Eritrean. There were no "typical" (Jewish/Arab) Israelis. 

I was in Gan Yavne (south) for the weekend, and we drove to Max Brenner, a restaurant that serves (mainly) stuff made out of/with chocolate. On the way there, we passed this mall (?) that had dinosaur replicas outside

At one point when I was with Bar (this is her driving), the car next to us started honking and waving crazily at us. Bar was getting annoyed at the aggressive driver...until we looked and saw that it was her friend Bar (yes, it's a popular name) and her father!

When I got back to Jerusalem on Saturday night, I walked from the Central Bus Station and met Leah by what's normally the shuk. This is how it looks on a Saturday night: kind of eery! 

The night before I left was "tu b'av," meaning the 15th of the month of Av. Apparently, it's the Jewish/Israeli Valentines Day, so all the restaurants were decked out with hearts and red balloons (except for one that had green balloons. That was weird). There was a huge tu b'av concert/show/festival a few blocks from the apartment with big names like Eviatar Banai. But it costed 55NIS, so I just stood outside the gate and listened from there (don't worry, I wasn't the only cheap person doing it!)

THE FOLLOWING SECTION IS ABOUT MY FINAL DAY IN ISRAEL:

Monday morning I was on a mission. After I slept in (!) and finished reorganizing my suitcases so everything fit under the weight limit, I walked to the Old City. There were a few final things I needed to buy that I hadn't. I intended to go to one particular shop near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (I may not be able to pronounce it, but I can spell it!), but terribly and hopelessly lost, and find myself deep in the less-touristy more necessity-shopping sea of the Arab Quarter markets.

I had no idea where I was or how to get out (all the streets look the same, and all the vendors sell the same stuff, and alleys poke in and out from every direction), but then I saw this sign, and knew that I had inadvertently achieved one of my missions for the summer. My Aunt Emily had told me that "One of the vendors by the Damascus Gate sells the best kunafa in the world." If I'd gone looking for the Damascus Gate (like the Church), I never would have found it. Good thing I'm good at getting lost! It was actually only the second time I'd ever had kunafa (and it was milk, not cheese, the kid selling it said), but it was soooo good.
Interesting note: It's Ramadan, yet all the vendors selling food were still selling food. And not just to tourists (in fact, tourists don't really get to that part of the shuk, It's not kitschy and touristy. It's clothes and produce and vegetables, etc.)--but to people who were probably preparing for the iftar break-fast meal at the end of the day. But in any case, it's not comfortable to eat while walking amongst so many people who can't eat, so I walked around carrying my kunafa. I walked into a shop with Jerusalem tiles and chatted with the guy in Arabic (he was very impressed), and then he said: "You eat that here. Take a spoon, and a napkin. Don't eat out there. Eat it here." So I did.

Remember how I couldn't find the Church? Good thing I made another wrong turn! Because I (literally) stumbled into the courtyard, just in time for some ritual with incense that I'm sure has a name, but I don't know it. As soon as I got there, the organ started playing, and all the priests (monks?) started walking around swinging incense on chains and doing that at all the altars in the church. It was super cool.

Also, when I went to the Church with the Mechina, it was under construction, and a lot of it was closed off. It was really cool to get to explore all the alcoves and chapels and altars--and even the basement and second story!

And another wrong turn leads me to... the rooftops of houses in the Jewish Quarter? What?

That boy was so cute. These people live in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City, and get to there house (somehow) by walking over the rooftops.

Oh, right. The rooftops also have grates in them. If you look down, you see that you're actually standing right over the shuk!

So Israeli.

My feet at the end of the day. Crazy tan on top, gross-dirty on the bottom. 

My plane from Israel was delayed two hours... because something was wrong with the engine. We left at the last possibly time before the Ben Gurion Airport curfew kicked in (flights can't leave after 2am, which means they must be taxi-ing by 1:45am). I have never been more scared to fly ("There's something wrong with the right-side engine. We're going to reboot the entire plane, which means it will be dark except emergency lights for the next five minutes" Cue: every baby on the plane starts crying.) Luckily, I was sitting next to a sweet couple, who gave me one of their giant white-chocolate kit-kat bars. I got onto my connecting flight to Chicago 10 minutes before it was supposed to take off. Then I renewed my driving permit (!), and drove home, where I'm sitting right now.

Israel Summer 2011: finished.

Well, Ben Gurion Airport has Free WiFi, but it's Not That Fast

(So the big "cool things I've done in the past 5 days" post--which includes wandering on rooftops, seeing priest/monk/something rituals, making pasta, eating at a chocolate-only restaurant...and many more--will have to wait till I'm home and have a better connection). 

This picture was taken by the friendly lady named Yael who sat next to me in the Sheirut (taxi for multiple people) to the airport. She's going to Georgia (the country!) for two weeks with her friend. Why Georgia? "It's cheap, and has really good hikes." She was super friendly. And then I remembered I had taken the obligatory "picture with all my stuff" so when we got out I asked her to do it for me.

A bit of Nachlaot, joining the protest, and some Tisha B'av

Last Thursday I met up with Galya for lunch at the shuk. Even though I'd shared a pasta dish with Leah the night before at the restaurant with Sam's dad, of course Galya and I got pasta (that's all we ate in Italy!). And even though Galya had just been on a tour of the Nachlaot neighborhood--bordering the Machane Yehuda neighborhood, which the shuk is part of--with the army, I made her take me through it. It some combination of tenement-style one-on-top-of-the-other apartments, religious and non-religious neighborhoods, and funky artsy galleries, including one of the only thrift stores I've found in Jerusalem. (The other thrift store had this doll, which was gone the next day when I went back. Who would buy it!?)
This is the door to a synagogue in Nachlaot

Just a pretty rusted-red door in Nachlaot, with some fuchsia flowers growing in front 

If the news of the mass-protests on the streets of Israel has reached the buses in Shanghai, as Naomi has informed me that it has, then I'm sure it's been reported in the States. Earlier this summer there was a boycott of cottage cheese (which might not seem like a big deal, but here it's a staple food), because the price has gone up dramatically in the past few years. Although I'm not sure how related the "rent is too damn high" protests are to the cottage cheese, Israel is certainly in the mood to protest [in addition to the students/everyone protesting high rent prices, parents protesting the increasing costs of public education were on the streets, as well as groups protesting various other policies. The protesters are specifically non-partisan, but are calling for a more socialist approach to government]. Saturday night the estimates put the number of protesters out in the streets of Jerusalem at about 30,000, with 200,000 in Tel Aviv and another 70,000 or so throughout the rest of Israel.
I went partly to see the showing, and partly because it's a pity to be in a country when such a big act of civil society is taking a place and to not at least see it.

I went with Sam [yet another Sam from Yale who's in Israel for the summer. I had Shabbat lunch with him and his grandfather] and his grandfather to the protest. The path went from the center of town down Ben Yehuda Street, by Gan Ha'atzmaut, up to Keren HaYesod, and ended a few hundred meters from the Prime Minister's Compound.

Among the slogans: "Gilad also deserves a house." Gilad, of course, is the Israeli soldier who was captured by Hamas immediately before the Second Lebanon War in the summer of 2006, and who is still in captivity.

The crowd. Many of the slogans were parodies of popular songs and phrases.

Israel's only hipster? I liked this guy. The sign says, "WE ARE THE ALL SINGING ALL DANCING CRAP OF THE WORLD." I'm not sure what that means, but they were having a ball.

People of all backgrounds were there: black and white, Sephardi and Mizrahi and Ashkenazi, men and women, single and married, religious and secular, students and adults, children and grandparents

The sign says "The nation demands social justice". It's one of the slogans of the movement. As you can see from this picture, there really were 30,000 people out on the streets in Jerusalem. The little boy on his father's shoulders next to the banner, and a religious man sitting on the traffic light to get a better view.

A family affair

Daniel Gastfriend comes to visit! And of course, when Daniel comes to visit, we go out for ice cream :) The friend from his year at the Mechina that he'd been staying with is the cousin of my friend Ariel from the Mechina. Also, a word of advice: never order ice cream before Daniel. You will be done with your two scoops before he's done taste-testing every flavor in order to decide what to get (this is the same at dining halls at school. Consider yourselves warned). Chen came down to Jerusalem to visit, as well!

There are still some crazies in Jerusalem. This is a poster inviting people to read Lamentations on the Temple Mount on Tisha B'av (the 9th day of the month of Av), a day of commemoration and mourning in the Jewish calendar. At any time of the year, it is forbidden to pray/read scripture that is not Muslim on the Temple Mount--I'm sure that during Ramaddan, these restrictions are taken even more seriously.
Tisha B'av mourns the destruction of both the first and the second Temples in Jerusalem, which tradition tells us were destroyed on the same date. Among the other tragedies in Jewish history that also occurred on this date are the declaration of the First Crusade in 1095, the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492, and the liquidation of the Warsaw Ghetto. Traditionally, Jews fast on Tisha B'av. Similar to Yom Kippur, the fast goes from sundown to sundown, and other things like washing oneself and wearing leather shoes are also prohibited. Unlike Yom Kippur, however, one is allowed to use electronics, etc. on Tisha B'av. It is also customary to read the Megilla of Eicha (Lamentations) while sitting on the floor.

This is me NOT on the Temple Mount. Adj's friend was in town--and she with a friend of hers from Paris--and wanted to go to the Kotel (Western Wall). I walked with them there, and unfortunately the authorities were extremely meticulous about boundaries between the men's area and the women's, including in the courtyard, which is not usually separated. However, we found a group of three women reading Eicha, and when thy were finished they lent us their book so we could read it, which I did, aloud. Afterwards we wandered towards the mechitza (divider between men and women), and found a man sitting next to his wife, reading Eicha with the tune, so we sat quietly behind them and listened.

And now I've begun packing. I'm not sure how everything's going to fit, since I'm going home with about twice as many books as I came with, and not really getting rid of much. Good thing I brought an extra gym bag, to take full-advantage of my two-pieces-of-checked-baggage allowance!

blog WHERE ART THOU with mine

I was asked to guest-blog here, and let me just say that I'm flattered! As I understand, Abby has readers across the world--from Tunisia to Russia to Germany to, well, sketchy Hyde Park, so it's an honor to be addressing you, her readers.

Although Abby did write a post acknowledging my existence, she failed to mention what I'm doing here. What am I doing here? Well, thanks for asking! My one-week stay in Israel came at the end of a 6-week trip throughout Europe on what some would call a "roots trip." My grandparents were all Holocaust survivors from Poland, and I spent my time first visiting their hometowns, then researching their families in various archives in Warsaw, then exploring their post-war choices and lives. The trip took me through Ukraine, Poland, Austria, and the Czech Republic, and along the way I got to see my grandparents' houses, met people who knew them before the war, and in Israel, met lost cousins of my grandfather who knew more about him than I did. It's been a whirlwind trip, and I can go on and on about it...oh wait...I did! You can visit my blog (with a guest post from Abby tonight) at esilberman.blogspot.com. 

Anyway, since I've been in Israel, when I wasn't meeting long lost cousins I've been relaxing--something I didn't have much time for in Europe! For those of you who don't know, Abby and I have known each other since high school--even though we attended different schools, we had a lot of mutual friends, and both were participants in the Write On For Israel program. Now we both go to Princeton! But you probably knew that part. Hanging out with Abby in Israel has been fun, especially after a trip where the average age of people with whom I talked was probably 60. Here are some highlights: 

-I call Abby the other night, but instead of using my cell-phone (which has a British number), I use the phone from the apartment where I'm staying. Typical Abby is to see an Israeli number calling her and answer (in a deep, Israeli-accented voice), "Alo?"

-Abby takes pictures. Of everything. We hung out this past Saturday, and after Shabbat was over, I played piano in her apartment. For one of the many creepy pictures she took then, see her most recent blog post. 

-Abby and her roommate, Leah, made cookies one night. When I visited, Abby offered me these cookies out of a metal tin, and after I ate one, asked me where I thought she found the tin. A thrift store was the first thing that came to mind. "No, it was on top of somebody's recycling." Typical...

Okay, that's enough from me. I would write more but I'll refrain. Just ask Abby about her naked dinner at the "blind" restaurant. I don't think she mentioned that part of it in her post...

***ABBY'S NOTE: Ricky, that last line is NOT appropriate!