Airport '21

 The afternoon was all about setting up for the Channukah party. And, for me, repacking because, yeah. I have sublet Yoni as my guide for the walk to the train and booked him in accordance with my neuroses.

Before the party starts, Tali Aronsky (from Flatbush), who is a friend of Nomi's came by to visit. Then Tasha came by with Amalya nd the new baby, Tzofia, who is a baby, all day, every day. So far and successfully. We shall check in at intervals and update you as events warrant.  David and Nomi started cranking out fresh, hot (HOT) donuts. Some were covered in chocolate fudge, others in powdered sugar and all with my greezy fingerprints. Gross, right?

Emmy and Tasha, neither of whom I have seen recently are both wonderous and wonderful. Emmy is fluent in Hebrew, as one would expect, and has a winning personality, which confirms that, somehow, Ira isn't related to her. The baby has no discernable personality and can't hold a conversation. Disappointing. I will check back at intervals etc.

Zevi came by with the boys and seeing them and how big they have gotten was a hoot. I spoke with Zevi for a while about board games, children, and life and stuff. Then I got an extended engagement as a baby holder for the queen baby. I held her while she continued to be a baby and it was awesome. Eventually, I couldn't feel my arm and the familiar back pain returned. Good times.

Next, Violet and her 2 kids came by, and then, after everyone left, Kayla Miodownik whose name I assume Ihave just misspelled visited and entertained the littles. We sat and shmoozed and compared phobias and neuroses. It was so much fun and helped me pass the time til departure. Kudos, thanks and appreciation to the swidlers for hosting me so graciously!

I had had orange soup (color, not flavor) and a couple of donuts but not a real meal, so nothing of size since the Sam's Bagel extravaganza, but I wasn't really hungry. I was expecting to duck out and grab a meal after candle lighting but the butterflies kept that from happening. Nerves. Amirite? For the firt time during the entire trip I wasn't hungry.

The antsy-ness finally drove me to leave at 7:55. Yoni all of 12 years old, walked with me and dragged one of my bags. He set a blistering pace on a mostly uphill course but I'm glad he did. I bought a ticket (NIS 16.50) and descended the 15 escalators into the depths of hill. I walked a long corridor and found more escalator. I figured that by the time I got to platform 2, I was half way to Tel Avib, and a third of the way to earth's molten core. When I finally got on the 8:33 train, it was 8:26, which in my world, is cutting it way too close. I made sure to hold on to my ticket (lesson learned) for the exit -- it actually says to do that on the ticket itwself, but who reads train tickets?

Here's where it all spins out of control. I remembered to hold on to my ticket, but left my entire knapsackbackpack at the x-ray machine by security in the Jeruslaem train station. I realized this as I looked out at the lights of the Judean night and wanted to take a picture with the camer that was in my...oh crap. There was much scrambling but in the end, Rafi was able to get to the train station, speak with the security people, find my bag and hop a later train following me to the airport. Good egg, that boy. In the meanwhile, i connected with Elijah's relative and got the skis to deliver. Up to level 3 and the various lines. The time was in the range of 9:15. Fortunatley, the lines were long and slow so by the time I wa through the first screening, Rafi had arrived with my pack. He, of course, couldn't get home because the train, it seems, was not allowing anyone back on for the return trip. For no real reason other than "because." I recommended the bus and I believe he ended up on a sherut (shared taxi) so I owe him 25 bucks.

The timeline:

8PM ish, leave the house

Make the 8:33 train by 7 minutes.

Arrive at the airport at around 9, and meet up with Elijah's cousin guy

Start first security line at 9:10

Get to front of that line and have someone check my passport by 10 (get pack from Rafi)

Get on baggage check in line and check in baggage by 10:20

Then to over-sized baggage check in for the skis. Done there at 10:40

On the next security line at 10:43

Finished with personal and hand luggage screening by 10:55. At passport control at 10:58

There is a food/shopping area and there was a place with kosher sandwiches but no place to wash so I figured I'd wait because last time, they had the same food at the gate area. That was a bad plan. The kiosk is closed at the gate. The local soda machine has caffeine drinks and 4 regular sodas so that's a no go. So the tension is easing and the adrenaline waning and I haven't eaten much recently. We'll see how this plays out. I have a 12 hour flight, lots of luggage and passport stuff and a cab ride to look forward to. 

Signing out for now.

Super Tremp - breakfast in Jerusalem

 Sitting in the sun on Ben Yehudah recomputing the complex calculus that is my meal allotment. Last night's non-dinner fiasco threw the fragile schedule into a complete disarray! I'm not a big breakfast guy so I don't know how I feel about a big breakfast. Today is my last day in Israel so I want to take advantage of every opportunity; the temperature will rise to 80 later today, that's 80 degrees farenwhatever. That becomes some incalcuable number in centigrus but who caeres? This is America. And even if it isn't, I carry an aura of America around me whereever I go so, despite mR. Bowie's protestations, this IS America. Interestingly, the word "is" is the Spanish word "si" backwards. Not that interesting, but it doesn't have to be. This is America. So there.

Review time:

During my stay, I have walked to some degree (F) in each of the cardinal directions (and blue jay way). Gan Sacher and the old city are in opposite directions, and I have turned both left and right on King George Street so those are opposites. I'm sure that there is a more precise set of terms but I can't keep track. I'm guess I'm just hard wired that way.

 I was up at 5:45AM after going to sleep at midnight (it is nice know that after a week and a half I have settled in to my usual pattern...time to leave!) and I started planning. I checked in online, discovered that I was required to fill in a health declaration for entering the US and filled that in.  I also read some news stories to see if there was to be any change in the various processes. Nothing yet, but people keep me worried about whether there will be any planes here to take me home. They best find a plane. I have students to torture. I folded my laundry, packed, repacked my various bags, made sure I had my documents handy, then unpacked and repacked my bags. I guess I'm just wired.

Eventually the time advanced to a moment when it was less foolish to begin my morning's stroll. I headed towards Ben Yehudah by takiing side streets. I ended up in a tourist souvenir shop. The shopkeepers here are sad and scared. The Omicron variant (curse you, Robert Ludlum) is driving tourists back home and no new ones are allowed to come in and keep thse little stores afloat. Everything is on sale in a last ditch attempt to entice buyers and liquidate stock. I do my part to help.

McDonalds is closed so I can't discover the subtleties of a fast food breakfast. I'm both relieved and disgusted at myself for my curiosity. Also, hungry still. I see the Katz's (from Frisch faculty) and we discuss their day and the issues surrounding all of our getting home. They head off to Yad Vashem and recommend Sam's Bagels for breakfast. While I have been there, this affords me a chance at redemption regarding the untoasted bagel incident. It's a deal! I was about to order the aforesaid bagel with a shmeer when the woman on line in front of me orders an "Israeli Breakfast." How demonstrably native, I think. I must have that as well. So I did and let me just say, this is not anything akin to what any Israeli has ever had for breakfast. This is like the breakfast shown in TV commercials of my youth, hawking sugared cereals as part of a "complete" breakfast. A bagel (yes, toasted) with 2 spreads, an omelet, a green salad of my design, and a cup of (Americano) decaf coffee. Wow and yum.

Eventually, I forklifted myself up and started walking again. Back streets and eventually Yaffo, figuring to get to the Power Station for coffee and a donut I can eat (those are the best kind). I got to the entrance of the shuk and ran into the CC Schwartz's. Hi guys! They were on their way to Brooklyn Bakery in Geula. We chatted and the two daughters who are in my classes stood awkwardly. Awesome. We talked about checking in for flights and I asked if they had done that health declaration. They hadn't heard of it so I walked them through the onine check in to the health form. I hope that we are supposed to fill it in. I also hope that Knesset security doesn't stop me at the airport. I am full of hopes and dreams.

I made it to the Powerpuffgirls coffee place (only one stop on the way, somebody kingdom for some Halva). The coffee place is not only where I can have a dessert item, but also the only place in this country that seems to know how to make a cup of decaf properly. 'Member how I marvelled at the lack of car accidents in this city what with all the hinking and narrow streets? Well, the law of statistics caught up with me. The law of "Dan makes the world go round" was in effect, and there was an accident on Agrippas, right next to me and my coffee. It seems that a guy in a white car screeched his tires and lurched forward, right into the back of a fancy black car. Everyone ran to see if he or she could criticize someone, but I sat there sipping my coffee because I figured that there was probably little need for a high school English teacher. This accident on a 2 lane street causes a large back up behind it and, though cars and buses find ways to squeeze around, it slows everyone down substantially. My feet are unaffected so I kick them into low gear and start walking back to Chez Swidler. I sense that this will be my last report until the airport or until I get home, so you all have that to look forward to.

Which is nice.

Surreal for dinner

 Side thoughts to fill in the time in between posts:

1. With all the traffic and horns and motorcycles/motor scooters, and incredibly narrow  streets I am surprised that there are not more accidents.

2. My comments about being comfortable wearing a kippah are not exhaustive enough. I walk past restaurants with patrons sitting outside and I see people praying and swaying and no one bats an eye. This is comfort. When I go out with my tzitzit fringes untucked, that makes me fit in more (yes, with only certain sub groups but still) than looked at askance. 

I left early for my 7PM coffee meetup  so I could grab a bite to eat on the way. I wanted to give Lika pizza abother chance but when I got there I saw that it was closed. Their loss -- I am a very influential voice in certain circles. Certain very, very, very small circles. Like dots, but still, influential. I looked for other pizza options and saw none that are on Ben Yehudah/Yaffo.  There were signs to ones right off the main street but I hate to make detours. I'm wired like that. No side trips. I did see Pisgat Felafel. So what, you ask. Well, this place advertised itself as being vegetarian, selling no meat. This fascinates me. My previous experience with Israeli felafel places is that they are coupled with schwarma making them meat places (so I can't get felafel pizza which is one of the perfect foods in the world). This affiliation seems to be shifting which is interesting to me. I stopped in for a quick (25 NIS)  felafel figuring a real dinner later. It wasn't bad, so there's that. (note, I kept walking and saw Rony's pizza and one other place farther down, so had I been patient, I would have been rewarded with pizza, but I was not patient).

I wonder how Muslims feel. There are plenty of Muslim citizens of Israel and I'm not aking a question about rights, I'm asking about Channukah. With all the public displays of Channukah material (mostly channukiahs) and the sales and store displays and restaurants with lights etc, it must be off putting. Does it feel excusible making the Muslim feel the way a Jew (gesundheit) does in the US at Christmas time? Does it hurt or is it not noticed? Does it become a reminder of something political, turning even the most Israeli Muslim in some way into something unhappy?

I waited at Aroma and while I waited, I saw R. Pfeifer and the Mrs! I watched kids walk through Mamilla with boxes of jelly donuts, giving them away to celebrate Channukah. They gave them to everyone and anyone who wanted, without asking about religious afifliation or observance. That was nice. I saw black hatted young men march through carrying "Mashiach" flags.

Rachael showed up (she was killing time while her daughter took a Zoom class) and we got coffee and walked up the stairs first to the Jaffa gate, then to the benches at the foot of Yaffo street. We chatted about work, house remodeling, parenting and other boring adult subjects. In Jerusalem. 68 degrees. Very relaxing. The class ended so she had to leave and I wanted a real dinner.

I decided I didn't want the hustle and bustle of the shuk and wanted a proper sit down-waitress serves you kind of place. Two restaurants were next to each other -- Harvey's Steak House and Mike's Place. I'm not judging names. I'm sure that there are plenty of nice Harvey's but based on my internet research of menus and prices, Mike's seemed a better option -- cheaper and a more interesting menu. This is going to be my only "real" dinner so I want it to be the right choice. Mike's had soccer on the TV and classic rock (which I adnit, I miss) blasting through the sound system so, yeah, Mike's. I walked in and saw the woman standing by the door so I asked her for a table for one. She looked confused and then explained to me that she didn't work there. The bartender was downstairs and she was waiting for her food. 

Mistake number 12. I apologized profusely, feeling like an absolute idiot. I apologized again because once didn't make me feel any better,

The bartender returned with her food and I asked for a table. He advised me to sit anywhere (upstairs, downstairs, inside or out) and the waitress would come by to take my order. I picked a table right in front of the bar so I could watch soccer. Exciting. Real Madrid against someone and there was this guy who kicked the ball...it was incredible and stuff. The bartender asked me if I wanted a drink to start so I ordered a beer (a Guinness...go with what you know).

I nursed my beer as people came in and out, including the Schechters (she grduated a bunch of years ago). The music played and there was a live version of Jolene (which I assumed to be Miley Cyrus). A patron who seemed very comfortable with the place started criticizing it and said that it was a male singer. I asked him who and he went to check. 

Yes, mistakes were made.

He came back not knowing but that entree of mine emboldened him to sit at my table. We started talking. I asked him a couple of questions and he told me the story of his life (a series of disturbing events including a minor, controlled substances, a bipolar parent, Chabad mind control and some other stuff). The Tyler family dropped by to say hi (Hi, Tyler family). He also gave me some advice based on his life about how to treat migraines and other maladies. It was, to make a long story short (which he did NOT do) a ridiculously bizarre conversation. I drank my beer slowly but didn't want to leave to use the men's room as, TBH, leaving him alone with my stuff made me uncomfortable. If I knew him better maybe I'd not be so judgmental, but at this point, suffer me my judgmental nature. I just sat and listened wondering if I was being punked, if this was an eccentric millionaire and my interest was guaranteeing me a slice of something big, or if he was just a regular of the restaurant who sits with people and talks about martial arts, Israeli yeshivas and how sunflower seeds can clean up radiation poisoning of the ear caused by cell phones. 

I have his cell phone number if you want to whatsapp him and learn more. I'm gonna take a pause on that decision...

So while this hour plus long "conversation" was happening (he used to be a substitute teacher, a welder, and engineer etc) I noted that no waitress came by to take my order. This kept (not) happening. In fact, the waitress did come by the bar to pick up drinks for other tables and sing along with the music playing, and while I saw other tables get drinks, I didn't see any food delivered to anyone except a basket of fries to a table that the waitress hung out with (and she ate some of the fries). 

Eventually, I found an unnatural break in conversation and did the whole "well...time to hit the ol' highway..." and asked for the check. No, I did not pay for his ginger ale. I wished him well and got out, regretting not finding a bathroom but eager to put distance between me and Mr. Jack Silver of Baltimore and eventually Jerusalem because the temperature is good for his migraines.

I walked back rather quickly, and at one point ducked into a restaurant which appered not to be closed, willing to order anything in order to use the bathroom. But things were closing up so I had to start the race to the finish. I made it to N+D and used the facilities. Now, not having had any dinner I am going to hide out in my room, worried that there will be a knock on the door and Mr. Jack will be wanting me to come out and play.

Family outing

I started a laundry wash in preparation for packing and going back to NJ and then saddled up for a day outside.

 Nomi and I took back roads through the local neighborhood (small alleys through the residential area with names like Yosef Chaim and Givon). We walked down Strauss on our way to Powerwash coffee (or whatever it is called) for a coffee and a donut. Once I knew that the donuts were not deadly, I wanted to spend every spare moment there. But they had no donuts yet so I walked away sad and without coffee. I can get coffee anywhere so why spend their prices when it isn't accompanied by a donut, right?

We cut across streets and headed to Geula and Me'ah She'arim (Nomi was concerned because she was wearing pants and those are very religious areas - I had planned fo rthe event and wore black pants and a white shirt so I blended in, which I don't, with my fleece and dad-holstered phone). We stopped at the Brooklyn Bake Shop in the hopes that their donuts had no nuts. Nomi trusted them to know their wares. We arribved an hour before their donuts did and the woman working there recommended that I not buy anything anyway. So, yeah, more sad. We walked past Yad L'kashish which sells arts made by senior citizens, past the Italian Hispital and a bunch of other buildings with plaques on them signifying that I should have written their names down, but didn't. Without coffee, I'm a mess.

We met up with David and walked into the old city. I was able to point out the men's room that I have used. They were very proud. We walked through the Jewish quarter to the kotel and stopped for a brief conversation with Nomi's friend (Tova Hametz). Nomi spoke with her and I petted the dog Lolly who is, by all accounts, a good girl. She is a big doggo and a happy one, as she did not eat any of the babies who went buy. LIke I said, a good girl.

We stopped in the square by the Churva and discussed lunch plans. First, I left the two of them and went down to the Kotel to fill up the old spiritual battteries. It is amazing how stone of a wall that has no particular religious or ritual value is so affecting spiritually and symbolically powerful. It really helps me. Bar mitzvahs, families feeling connected to their religion, rich and poor, religious and not all mixing and feeling the same thing in the same place. Quite something. I highly recommend it.

I headed back -- 139 steps on the way back up. This might be more than last time but I'm not sure, but if I go anain, I have a benchmark. I ran into the Bromberg family on the way up (hi Bromberg family!) and an Alter passed us by (Brian?) and gave a quick "how are you." Next, I saw the Schwartz family again. Hi guys! I found N and D and we decided to go to "Holy Cafe." Nomi got fish and chips, David got a fettucini (however you spell it) in a rose sauce and I got "Cheesy Eggplant" because, heck, "cheesy eggplant." Right? I had visions of eggplant parm or at least rolatini. I also got a smoothie with strawberries, mango, bananana and orange juice. I like saying that. SMOOOOOTHIE.

The food arrived. The fish and chips looked like fish and chips. The pasta and sauce looked like pasta and sauce. Mine? Not so much. Their idea of cheese is a white yogurt like substance so there was a piece of eggplant swimming in this white stuff. It wasn't at all what I had expected. I ate it anyway because I'm wired like that. I watched school groups get whipped into a frenzy of Zionistic song and then march en masse to the Kotel. Hundreds of children of various ages, in groups some coed, some not, all flowing through the square to see that same wall. It is impressive.

I saw R. Reuven Taragin and said a brief hello (he was engrossed in a conversation) and even say R. Ronn and Ovadia Yaish from a distance). I got a 5 shekel coffee from Cofix (and Americano...I failed at explaining how decaf doesn't have to be an Americano so I said whatever and got the Americano).

On our way out, David guided us through more of the Jewish quarter than I have ever seen before. Winding alleys and small "streets" (too narrow for cars, some in ersatz tunnels, some up and down stairs) composed neighborhoods through which tourists, some lost, some not, gawked at everything. These areas were marked as archeological digs, heroic battles, and historically significant moments, and they were people's homes. Signs reminded us to respect the quiet and decorum of the area while we acted the tourists in front of private homes. It was weird. History isn't in a museum -- it is on the street, all around us.

We exited through the Zion gateand walked past a memorial to a murder victim (in 1989, I think) and to fallen soldiers from 1948. We continued next to the walls of the old city, reading the explanations about the various strata of the visible areas, tracing the development of the walls from the early 20th century back to 1100 BCE and earlier.  To see the actual walls built by the Hasmoneans right next to us, not beyond a gate or glass was humbling. History lives here.

We walked past Jaffa gate and up to Yaffo street. N and D decided to take the light rail up to Davidka as they had shopping to do for a house warming gift at a particular store. I opted to walk because I'm hard wired that way. I sat on a bench and watched people. I also saw the Cohnens (hi Cohnens!) and we chatted about life and stuff and then, as I continued to sit on the bench, I made plans to meet a co-worker later for coffee. It turns out that the bench I chose was just out of visual range of the corner at which N and D waited for me for 20 minutes. It was comical. They started walking around looking for me so I snuck up behind them. A wonderful time was had by all. We wound our way through back streets on the way back to their house.

Dinner and still champion

 A quick update on this, the first night of Channukah.

Happy Channukah everyone. Now let's get on with it.

Maybe it is the fact that I wear my phone in a dad/pocket holster thing that signals that I'm American. Are those pocket cases "dad" or "American" or (dare I say it?) "American dad"?

One reason that I was looking forward to this trip is because I have not been in Israel for a holiday (High Holidays and Passover 1975-6 do NOT count as I have no recollection of them other than a broken wrist and an invite to stay at a hotel, which I did NOT do). So being here for Channukah is a real first for me, at least during the years in which I am encoding memories. I wandered through the shuk in order to see, first hand, how the holiday is manifestival. I saw a large Channukiah and some people dancing in front of it, but beyond that, and the small ones i saw in many stores, I'm not sure if the liveliness of the shul was any other nights. Still, it was fun.

On the whole, it felt very comfy -- I knew I could stop and eat in any restaurant so I wasn't self conscious about the whole situation. A nice sensation. Ultimately (knowing my endgame) I stuck with Fish En Chips and I ordered, you guessed it, the fish and chips (fried foods in honor of the holiday). Because the place is so noisy, you are given a little alarm/disk so that you know when your food is ready, but I got distracted with other stuff and suddenly was wondering "where's that beeping coming from"?

The fries were unimpressive but the fish (4 large pieces of Cod) was hot and very crispy (a breadcrumb based coating, not tempura, 2 pieces with plack sesame seeds mixed in). It wasn't shocking flavorful, but for cod, I didn't want it to be. I had it with a beer and just people watching was relaxing.

I ate, drank and was merry, at least as as much as I can be. Eventually, I forced myself to get up and walked away (after cleaning my stuff up -- I am not a pig, unlike the people who used the table before me, who shall remain nameless because I have no idea who they are). I headed back to Agrippas and turned towards Powerhouse Coffee so I could end the night with a sweet. On the way, I saw the Scharf family but they didn't see me as they were very busy, and that's fine, so let's not tell them.

And I did. I got a black decaf (the gentleman working there said I was the first person to order an decaf pour over) which he made with paisntaking exactitude-osity, and a creme filled donut (vanilla frosting...they were out of chocolate but that's ok). The coffee was quite good and the donut was not at all painful or hospital inducing, so that's a big plus. And also, I was first. Yay me!

I got to spend time on a nice phone call with the Mrs. so that added to the joy of the evening and, on the whole, I give it all an A+ out of 10. Plus extra credit for "donut."

My Jerusalem marathon

 I began my day with a friendly vice, the warm sunshine, a companion unobtrusive, right? I walked down to Gan Sacher (where every assault is a sacher tort) and sat on a bench and just soaked up the sun and I'm telling anyone who will listen. What can be better at 8AM than a warm sunbeam and no rush at all. I took a few minutes to reflect. I tought about spirituality. I came to Israel to recharge and that doesn't make sense to everyone. I think that part of it is that I see the pursuit fo the divine is an end AND a means, both the journey and and destination. Someone asked me about my frequent trips to the kotel. What is there to DO there, I was asked. Well, maybe that's just it -- to me, the goal is just to BE there. To be is to do, I guess. Maybe that's what "self-actualization" means. I'm not sure. It is a dumb phrase, "self-actualization," a vile phrase. But if we go looking for an experience maybe we are destined to be disappointed.  Just sitting on that bench is the thing. It isn't a pause on a larger trip, because the moment has its own value as an expression of my being. Or something like that. If we can find a way to make every moment a moment we feel, and every pace a place we experience and not just pass through, maybe that's the point. We just have to know to keep our eyes and souls open to the possibility. Maybe I'm too introspective. I guess I'm just hard wired that way. Maybe Emerson and Thoreau were right. I only wish I had read what they wrote so I'd know.

I need coffee.

Gan Sipor for breakfast. I tried to explain to the waitress that "Americano" isn't the only way to make black coffee. It was exhausting and the weather was just too darned nice to waste energy on it so Americano was the way to go.

I had a spinash frittata and a salad with a very large roll (dare I say a loaf) of whole wheat bread. The waitress warned me that the frittata has a very strong spinach flavor. Duh. That's the point. It was delicious. All in all, it was a fantastic breakfast -- one fo the top 10 meals of the day. By the way, you have to look a the bill and then tell the waitress how much you want to tip and it gets added to the bill. Science.

I walked up the path in Gan Sacher until the end which took me to the back entrance of the Knesset. I thought that was neat so I took a picture and then hung around to admire the view. Mistake number 7. Security came out and I was interrogated as to why I took a picture. I explained that I'm a tourist and I take pictures. The guy demanded that I delete it. I was going to point out that there was no sign saying that I couldn't take a picture but his gun was more persuasive than my logic. I figured I was done was but I was wrong because he he beckoned me to follow. I figured my forthrightedness earned me a special audience with his highness and a guided tour of the basement which has all the Vatican's missing stuff, and maybe a free donut. I was wrong. He took me to his supervisor who asked a lot more questions. I explained that I was a tourist, told him where I lived, where I was staying and what I had for breakfast. Strange that he wasn't interested in the spinach frittata. It was a really good frittata. He demanded that I delete the picture. Both the earlier guard and I assured him it was. I showed him the phone and my pictures of Orlando. He wasn't impressed. Tough crowd. He took a picture of my driver's license (which I didn't insist he delete even though I have a strict "no pictures of my license" policy...he also had a gun, you see). We left on good terms. Somewhere in the files of the Knesset, there is a picture of my license. Awesome.

I traced my way back down a little and found the bird observatory. From there I took a picture of the fence.  שק-ית!

The sign that says "bird observatory" should say "and cemetery" because I found that at the end of the path, there is an cemetery  that has great rabbis dead in it. Apparently, there is a guy who is Rabbi מהזוייל or מזוועהיל depending on the sign you read. I still don't know who he is, though.

Back down the hill to back to path. Along the path to the end of the park and then up Rechov Teddy Ruxpin (or David Ruffin, I forget) to Giv'at Ram. I wanted to find the front door of the Knesset so I could take a legal picture and have a chat with the prime minister about the whole situation. There is a fence and a guard post. Next to it is a topiary cut in shape to say "Welcome to the Question" but I'll tell you, mister, to be honest, I didn't feel welcome.

Some guy in a car stopped and asked me for directions. IN HEBREW! Joke's on him -- I'm an idiot!

Across the street into the Israel Museum. First stop, the art garden. Great views and art that I just don't understand. I'm not an art guy, so maybe I don't get a lot of stuff, but some of this is just silly. Anything seems to count as art, including nothing -- I'm not joking about this but there is a piece of art which is called "Space" and there is nothing there. Seriously. I'll post pictures when I get the chance. No joke.

Into the museum, itself and through the exhibit which traced ancient life from about the 14th century BCE to yesterday as measured in glass, coins, burial rites, knives, written language, dishes, mash notes and gardening tools. Archeology people would love this stuff. There were many rooms worth of stuff.

Over to the Contemporary Art section. The first part had stuff from people I have heard of including Kandinsky, Matisse, Picasso, Man Ray, Max Ernst, Magritte, Chagal, Pollock, deKooning, Miro, Arp, Motherwell, Basquiat, Mondrian and VASARELY! and like that. Then there was more recent stuff including a white empty canvas on a black canvas.

There were also occasional expert explanations like the write up of Pollock's Horizontal Composition which explored negative space and movement into eternity. My non expert opinion is that it looked like a neo-cave painting. I'm pretty sure I'm right.

I walked back through one of the special exhibitions which was art and masks from Africa. I wanted to ask a doyenne how often inquire about art from Wakanda but figured that after the Knesset thing they are probably already watching me and didn't want to make things worse. Then to the Shrine of the Book to look at the Dead Sea Scrolls. Magnificent. There is a special exhibition about the Aleppo Codex which was incredible. Eventually I tore myself away and went out to the model fo the second temple which is housed in a model of the Holy Land Hotel (old person joke, kids...move along).

I walked all the way back down Shmoopy road, crossed Ben Tzvi and found the stair case behind Kiryat Wolfson. I walked up the approximately 1 millions stairs and ended up in a parking garage. Up two levels of parking garage and I ended up on Diskin, right by building 2 of Kiryat Wolfson. A stroll up KK"L street, looking for memories but all I saw was vague reflections in the faces of children and ancient laundromats.

The real goal of my stroll was to find the SuperPharm at which I could get a PCR test within 72 hours of my return flight. The internet promised that there was a participating retailer in the Mamilla mall so I wanted to check and find out the process. While I walked I did some math. It was 2 PM (ish) on Sunday. 72 hours from then would be 2 PM on Wednesday which is after I leave. INUTHERWERDS I am already within 72 hours so once I confirmed I was in the right place I signed myself up to get a PCR right then and there! I scanned the QR code and filled out the form and waited for the confirmation email (note -- the instructions for filling out the form correctly are next to the testing location which you can't get to until you fill the form out correctly. Hmmm). While I waited, I saw Hope and her roommate and then helped a couple find the form and fill it out. I'm nice like that. I tried to buy a soda but the machine repeatedly rejected my credit card. I can't have my card treated like that, so I paid cash and called the credit card people to ask "what the hey?" They said that all was right with the world and I can blame the store. I comforted my card and kept waiting for the confirmation email. I even re-registered, using a gmail address instead of the yahoo address I first used. I kept waiting. After an hour or so of waiting, I headed back to the pharmacist who initially helped me.

In Israel, you take a number to be served, so I took a number. 56. The digital display was up to 55 so I expected a short wait before I asked "what the hey?" but while I waited a tourist wandered up and started shouting "shalom? shalom?" He got served first, as he was looking for Omega 3 pills that are from Vegan (he pronounced it veh-jan) and not fish sources. Eventually he bought something approximating what he wanted but as he wrapped up, another guy walked up to the counter to thank the pharmacist. I figured I wasn't in a rush and chose not to say anything. He got his PCR results already and wanted to tell the pharmacist that his results came to his gmail account but were stopped in the spam filter, and the yahoo address didn't work at all. I checked and my confirmation email was in the spam filter! I gave the woman waiting with #57 my slip of paper, thanked the guy who butted in and walked to the counter to pay. Had I picked a fight about his butting in, I wouldn't have overheard the answer to my question! A lesson to be learned, but I just don't know what it is.

At check out, I saw Kayla Schwartz's family and said hi. Also Eli Rotenbergs's family. Hi. We made small talk and had our parent-teacher conference there on line. Efficient. I paid (NIS 119) for the test (ON MY CREDIT CARD. SUCK IT bakery) and went downstairs to get the test. I had a picture of my passport handy, the confirmation email handy, my Tav Yarok handy (I have lots of hands) and my nostrils flared for the occasion. A mouth swab and into the nose. Yuck. Repeat. Open up and say ewwww.

Back out and bam, another schnorrer. I gave him my pocket change (which I only had because I had to pay cash for the soda) when he told me that he had to buy food for his children for Channukah. I resisted the need to tell him that a job might be a better path. It was a sunny day and I didn't want to fight. I saw the Cohnens as I moved through Mamilla (mazal tov, Cohnens!). I ducked through Jaffa Gate to use the public facilities but my knees told me that I couldn't handle another trip to the kotel. They were probably right.

Up Yaffo to Ben Yehudah (with a quick stop for fresh hand-machine squeezed pomegranate juice at Cafe de Flore -- it is SO SWEET and yummy) then a hello to the whole Papier family and heading back to Betzalel.

I quick note as I crossed some street or another. There is such a thing as a New York Minute, defined as the time between when the light turns green and when the car behind you honks because you haven't gone yet. The measure in Jerusalem is even shorter. The lights here turn red-yellow right before they turn green and the honking actually begins before the light turns green. That's fast.

I made it back and Nomi helped me plot my journeys on her computer. It turns out I walked about 10 KM in 8 hours. A personal record. Then she deleted the whole thing. There were tears. Next up, candles for Channukah, night #1. Happy, happy, all.

But at least I'm enjoying the ride*

 Hope you all had a restuful Shabbat. When we last left our intrepid explorer, the sun was setting in the west and the sabbath was a-pproaching. We went across the street and up in to the courtyards and found the shelter which is the home of Kol Rinah. There, there was a lovely Friday night service, led by Dayan Baruch Rubanowitz. Then a dinner of chicken and potatoes (schmaltz potatoes are a joy and these were especially joyous).

I then failed, yet again, to sleep much but I changed by strategy and decided this time to get out of bed and get dressed when I decided it was of a reasonable hour (I had not set up a clock so I had no idea what time it was). I ended up reading and studying at 6:30. Not unreasonable.

Shul was at 8:15 which left time for giving the kids back rubs, and having a nap. i find it easier to fall asleep when I'm fully dressed and in a chair than when I'm in a bed. Except on an airplane when all bets are off. Lunch was a family affair as David's parents (Sy and Sonja) and brother (Shlomo) came by. Chulent, zucchini kugel, cole slaw, salads, challah and then cookies and mousse pie for dessert. We haven't seen Shlomo in a while so it was nice catching up. I had a nice chat with Sy about life and things related to it. They left and after a bit more chatting with D and N, it was time for mincha soon followed by maariv and havdalah.

We caught a 6:30PM bus (the 31 as it came before the 6, Nomi used her Rav Kav to pay for me -- thanks Nomi!) to the malcha mall. Right to Broasters. The mall was slowly filling up and many of the visitors were 16 year olds who were smoking, spitting and carrying motorcycle helmets. We had a series of plenary and committee meetings when confronted with the menu and we endud up getting a few of everything. I may be going to eat from a bucket*

The onion rings were nothing special -- minced onions and a tempura based batter. The chicken nuggets were large and real chicken and the crunch was thinck with these ones. The wings are about the same size as the legs (those were the 3 menu items...nuggets, wings and legs) and I ordered mine regular. Eli got a bucket of spicy nuggets. They had a slightly thinner crust but the meat was juicier. The regular nuggets dipped into the spicy chili sauce were spicier than the plain spicy nuggets. File that tidbit away kids, it could just save your life if you find yourself in an incredibly rare and unlikely situation in which you have to choose the juicier chicken while a gun is held to your head.

We caught the 6 bus back (yay Nomi again) and suddenly it was late and time to sleep. Tune in tomorrow -- I have plans to challenge the government.

Walking on something

 I failed again at sleeping so I was up before the sun. Slacker, that one.

Waking early watching the world catch up

Streets that will be later jammed are

somehow silently serene, still.

The revellers of last night

nurse memories still

mired in sleep while I rule

their stage alone with the new day.

People up likewise early

rush to avoid the rush, afraid

ever to be late.

We are the authors (or at least

co-authors) of our lives, some hoping

to be published

to be read, 

others just hoping not to perish.

I took an early morning walk, to watch the world before it was sullied by human presence. That's a bit snobbish, I know, but I guess I'm just hard wired that way. I walked up to King George and took a right. Shocking. I had no idea where I was headed and that's the best way to take a walk. I passed the home of the Knesset from 1950 to 1966. I have never noticed that before -- how long has THAT been there?

As I stood opposite the Heichal Shlomo synagogue I saw a little white dot in the sky. It moved to the left, and stopped. it was up really high, catching the sun and then not. I thought it could be a mylar balloon but it was up really, really high. I took a picture and it looks like a planet, but it isn't. I watched it drift and stop with no discernable pattern to its visibility or direction of movement. It made no noise and didn't ascend or descend. I'm convinced it was a UFO. I tried to take a picture specifically for Facebook but the local wifi is non-existent and my phone has run its course of data for the day so that didn't work.

A right turn at the Leonardo (next to the apartment on stilts which I remember from 40+ years ago), down past the Supersol and the center for Conservative Judaism (you all surely remember that I broke my arm there on Yom Kippur of 1976 so I won't remind you. -- i considered asking the armed guards if I could come in and see that spot but I feared trying to explain my interest so I moved on). Next was a building that said it was the US Embassy. I expected more grandeur. Maybe the grandeur comes out after 7AM. [it has been subsequently explained to me something something conuslate something something residence something events but the details are lost on a fragile flower as I am; I'm here as eye candy, not to learn stuff].

I ended bak at Mamilla so, of course, I headed to the Kotel. how could I not? No one stopped me as I took pictures of all the things I have seen before.

I got to the wall and saw a sea of talleisim (I dare not push my way through) and people asking for money. That is the one thing that keeps me from enjoying going to the Kotel more -- the guilt I feel when I see and hear all the people asking for money. I feel bad when I give to them and when I don't. One man approached me and said that his wife died and he had 8 kids to support. Eight. I wanted to look at him and say "so what are you doing here schnorring? Go parent your kids!" I didn't. I bit my tongue and handed him my pocket change.

I took a left and went to the area to the left of the men's section which has the continuation of the wall. The wall continues as does the prayer, despite and in counterpoint to the construction going on. I sat.

It hurts too much to sit there and feel what I feel but I can't imagine ever wanting to leave. This is THE place, a palpable sense of the divine is here -- if not because of an actual presence then because of the myriad believers who wear their faith as a long coat. Time flies and yet stands still. How many generations cried and died so I can sit here in a plastic chair and watch people pray at their own pace?

A first -- I saw someone actually wearing 2 pairs of head tefillin at once. I have heard of this practice but have never seen it. Until now.

There are more stairs up on the way out each time I go. Are they adding steps? Somehow all this walking is making me less in shape. Weird.

I really want a coffee and a bagel but, ironically, the store by that exact name is still closed. So I walk back up Yaffo. I see Sammy Tyler's mom on the way (she warns me that there are many more Frisch people up ahead...I ended up seeing none of them. Lucky, I guess)

I thought about a breakfast boureka but decided against.

I made it to Sam's Bagels and had a "bagel" (not completely unlike a bagel) with cream cheese, tomato and cucumber. I forgot to get the bagel toasted, but it was still warm so that was ok. The woman behind the counter said "Good morning" to me as I walked in. Am I wearing some sign that says "English speaker" on me? Do I smell like an Anglo? NIS 35 for that bagel and coffee. I have the sense that that is more than I would pay for the equivalent in the US but there you go. I still wanted something sweet and when I asked the woman about the chocolate chip cookies they had for sale she said that they have nuts. Even the things that don't have them as an ingredient are made on the same line and share equipment, she explained apologetically. She didn't recommend any of them to me. Honesty is appreciated. Cookies would be more appreciated. I continued on and walked into English Cake just to torture myself.

It worked.

Also, there were bees on the pastries sitting out, so let's just couple one phobia with one allergy and we have a sure fire way to keep me from eating. Well done.

On my way down Betzalel I saw Nomi heading up so I decided to keep going and accompany her on her errands. We walked back to the King George area and lo, and behold the UFO was there and Nomi saw it! Shopping continues. At a different Pink Lady I found a maybe, so that's a good thing. The store "Rachel" had nothing (though it advertised itself as a head covering store). The next 3 Pink Lady stores (no joke...same street) had nothing of interest.

We went to maxstockzolmax to look for socks for the children. Nomi needs new socks! Music on the loudspeaker has been on a loop since 1957 and some of the products on the shelves have kept it company all along.

I saw the Schwartz girls and proised to review their essays on the plane so I have that to look forward to. We walked through the shuk and I saw Remy Tamir (abearded!). Nomi looked for specific candles for Channukah. I'm looking at everything else. We saw Bruriah Spraragen. Hi Bruriah, i said. She said hi back. It is a friendly country.

We stopped at a Natural Place to see if they, in their pursuit of gluten free, sugar free everything free accommodation they ight have "nut free." No such luck. But right nearby there was a "Power Coffee" place so we stopped by. Nomi asked the guy about nuts in his food. He said he would call the baker! The report was that there are no nuts in the donuts but they are packed on the same counter as other products that have nuts. That's not so much of a concern and since he said he would make me a cup of Swiss-water decaf (French press) I decided to risk it. Note to everyone, "Herby's" baked products that don't have nuts, actually don't have nuts! The coffee was good to start and it got better as I drank it and the Boston Creme equivalent was yummy and not problematic.

Then back to the house and we are getting ready for Shabbat. A blessing on all and I'll catch you on the flip side.

A Wondering Jew

 I got a late start today (the night's sleep wasn't effective so I allowed it to become the morning's sleep and it was much more on point). Then a walk up top Ben Yehudah to start shopping. There is a strange feeling as I walk. If I walk in NYC, people look. They must be thinking, "hey there's a guy with a little hat on his head." They should be marveling at my smashing good looks and instead I'm sure that they are looking at my kippah.

Here, I fit in. Lots of people have hats on their heads and no one thinks twice about it. So it is nice. Of course, I still worry that people judge me for other reasons -- can they see I'm a tourist from a distance? Is it how I'm dressed or how I look or walk? But at least they take no notice of the kippah. The rest of the paranoia is just who I am. I'm hard wired like that.

Time to eat and shop. There is a play rehearsal this eveing so I have to schedule my eating appropriately. I must eat now, and again later. This is important. There is no sense of THanksgiving here. There are signs about Black Friday sales, and I have heard Americans talk about getting together, but nothing on the streets. No public sensibility of it. That's neat.

I look for hair bands. I sat to collect my thoughts and a woman named Zahava sat down next to me and started asking me, in Hebrew, about how I like my glasses because the is getting glasses. I asked if I could answer in English and she agreed because she moved from San Francisco 32 years ago. She told me a heckuva back story including that she won a million dollars in the lottery but burned the ticket because she only wanted to rely on God but when she moved here and ended homeless she realized her mistake. She receives social security and disability but is still homeless. She also believes that things should not cost money and everything should be free. She said she believs in free love. I steered the conversation back to glasses. Then I got up and walked away. Casual like, but quick.

I looked into the store "Trend." It was a 4 by nothing little store with 9 video cameras watching the store, and the feeds up and public. I sense that this might be unnecessary for a shoplifting concern but they might be trying to protect or document a different fear.

Deep thoughts call for pizza, so I walked down Yaffo to Lika, which is in the spot that Big Apple was in. It loked open but when I walked in, the proprieter told me (in Hebrew...) that he was closed. Ifelt lost. i had my heart set on pizza dagnabit. I wandered back up Yaffo. At that point, I ran into the Zakai family and chatted (mostly with Jakey) about college and how tough it is to get a minyan at Brandeis. He then told me where the other Big Apple Pizza was, so all was bashert from God.

On my way I overheard a woman in an IDF uniform speak a language I coud not recognize. This made me very happy. You want to talk melting pot? New York can't hold a candle to Israel.

At "Pink Lady" I found the headgear Julie wants -- it is called "Imaga" but they didn't have the colors she wants. Progress thy name is Pink Lady.

I found the pizza place  off of Ben Yehudah. I have been to this one before -- it has license plates all over the place. The pizza has a slight bitter flavor but the crust is really buttery and it was just what I needed with or without doctor's orders. Food prices here are all based in whole shekel amounts. No one prices anything as x.95, or even x.50. Smaller coins exist but it is as if they don't matter. I haven't gone through my receipts that closely, but I sense that even after taxes, somehow, all the prices end up even on the shekel level. Weird.

I finished my pizza and was immediately hunfry - a good sign! I found myself wandering down Yaffo wondering if I would end up at the Kotel. I had no specific plan to be there but I felt a pull and went with it. On the way, I passed a restaurant called Thailandi, and it advertised "crrrrazy noodles." I demured, as I prefer my noodles docile and rational.

I chose to go through Mamila mall to see how the other 1% lives. I still craved sweets so I went into the candy shop. I looked at the candy bars I know and love and still found consistent mention of hazelnuts -- if not in the ingredients in the allergen listing. No sweets for me. Insert sad face here.

At the Jaffa Gate, I was enticed into Karkash to see if they have head bands that I want. Of course, the guy said, he just has to send his brother to go buy them. I smelled a scam. He said it would take 10 minutes. I told him I was on a schedule but I would stop by on the way back. He said OK and watched me write the name of his store in my notes to make sure I wasn't lying. Creepy.

Repeating visits, going to the same place on each trip, validates the accuracy of memory. I walked through the square by the Churva synagogue and I feel comfortable.  What I remember holds true and I like that.

 I caught mincha at the Kotel which isn't tough when there are rolling minyanim. One started as soon as I got there but it was 20 feet from the wall so I felt distanced from the ultimate connection so afterwards, I went up to the wall and communed. I held on for dear life, never wanting to let go. I felt a surge of sadness and joy. I felt drained and recharged. I couldn't think of ever leaving that spot but I felt energized and ready to go out and connect with the world. I need to wander back but I want to just sit here and feel the place. I really felt it inside me -- a sense of awe and a sense of loss. It was the most real for me that it has ever been and I cherish that feeling. This is why I came.

I didn't put a note in the wall. The wall, even its cracks and crevices, is holy and my thoughts are beneath it. I won't profane the wall with a note. God knows my thoughts and makes sense of my mumbled words. I feel like a failure in the face of grand majesty and I feel incredible joy in that same presence. I wanted to go in to the covered area to the left but it was closed for construction. Welcome back to reality, bucko.

I walked back through the Jewish Quarter. All uphill. Went back to Karkash because I felt guilty about not going. I'm hard wired that way. The guy only vaguely remembered me. I reminded him of what I was looking for and he said, again that his brother could buy some, deep in the shuk, and bring it back. i asked price and he said 150 NIS. This is much more than what I saw in the store, so I countered with 90MIS. He said, how about 100 and I stuck to 90. He accepted the amount and asked again about color. I said "tan or black" and he said he had purple and black. He then said, "ok, black and you want 10" I said "no, I want one". He insisted "you said ten!" And I said, "no, I wanted black or TAN, like light brown." (now I wonder if the price he quoted was for 10 total which would have been a great price if I wanted 10). He realized our communication error and he said he wasn't sending anyone to buy only one. We parted on good terms.

I used the lavatory by the Jaffa gate. You didn't have to know that, but I wouldn't want you hearing about it from anyone else.

On my way back up to Yaffo street, tourists stopped me and asked me to take their picture. They asked in Englihs, without hesitation. How did they know with such confidence, that I was an anglo? Bring on more paranoia.

On the way back, I saw that Lika pizza was open but you know what? You had your chance.

I made it to the top of Yaffo, at King George and went in to Cafe Ne'eman for a cup of decaf. I had to tell the woman that I didn't want milk (frother or otherwise) and had I not said anything she would have assumed that I wanted it! The default on a regular cup of coffee is with milk. I got it and it was delicious.

Then it was time for daddy-daughter bonding time as I walked from store to store with Maddie on a video call, showing her every headband available. I held the camera and she judged and decided  what I would buy for her. I intitially got some stares but the only thing more potent than the "I'm a dumb American tourist" ploy is the "I'm the dumb dad/husband buying something for a woman" bit. At one point, another cistomer actually said "good luck" to me when he smiled. So I bought some stuff and wished Maddie a good day. I figured I had earned some food and I just so happened to be next to Moshiko when I made that decision. Shocking, I know. So I had to eat at Moshiko and it was as delicious and fantastic as I remember it. Eat there. Tell them Dan sent you. It won't mean anything but it is an ego boost for me.

I walked to Gan Sacher as I was told that there was a 5PM pre-rehearsal dance practice and I wanted to see my niece and nephews strut their stuff in preparation for a production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  I won't be here for the actual play so I wanted to be a supportive uncle now. I was told that it would be "somewhere" iin Gan Sacher and at "5-ish." Promising.

I chatted on the phone with Talia Ruby as I walked the entire length of the park, not seeing any sign of anyone dancing to Ian Fleming. After an hour's long stroll I headed back to the house and found every one there as the 5PM pre-rehearsal was at 2:30. Ish, indeed. I went back out at 6:45 to watch the more formal rehearsal.

At the park, a kid of 9 or 10 approached me and asked to use my phone. Weird, right? Forget that he couldn't us my American line to make a local call -- it was just weird. Rafi said that this is an actual thing, kids borrowing random strangers' phones to make calls (I guess to get picked up or find out if their parents ever want them to return). The important thing is that the kid asked me in Hebrew!

The "rehearsal" ended up being practice of 2 major dance numbers (using my phone to supply the music...good thing I was there). I had a chance to talk with Nava as Eli and Rafi walked around twirling Kendo sticks. Next all three of them danced to Toot Sweets and I got colder and hungrier. The evening ended with a nice chat with Nomi about colonoscopies and mamograms. We're adults!

Just a second, dinner

 I spent the evening playing elimination out on the street in front of Chez Swidler. There are elements of Calvin Ball to it with the following wrinkle -- I played with three children (Eyal, Avital and Yoni) and there is a different set of developing rules for each. It was a lovely evening and I lost repeatedly, though I eventually got a hang of the rules. Then inside for a game of Scrabble with Yoni. Very pleasant time was had by all.

Next was a walk to Cinema City. I know what you will say: "You've gone to Cinema City before! Why are you repeating yourself?" That's a fair question, dear reader and I shall endeavor to explain. I indulge in the foolish consistency of preferring familiarity. There is usually enough incremental change to require some measure of adjustment and that's enough of a task for me. That realignment within a larger context of the familiar is of what I am capable. I am wired that way -- neuroses require being early, being prepared and being comfortable with my surroundings before trying to assimilate anything new.

Cinema City is a short walk, and a nice one so I go there to see what has changed while wallowing in what has not. Under the overpass and up the hill, through security (which doesn't ask me why I'm carrying a camera -- hey Malcha Mall...suck it!) I walked around the circle of store I didn't care to walk in to, thinking about my meal opportunities. I have not yet had pizza! But, no, there are many good cows who died so that I could eat and it would be a disgrace if I fail to honor their moo-mories by eating them.

I saw a pub/restaurant and I thought to myself, "I have never eaten in anything that was a pub/restaurant!" So I walked over to go in. It was closed and that's a big turn off for me -- I generally refuse to eat in a restaurant that's closed. Call me crazy, call me stubborn, call me gelatinous. I'm just wired that way. Then I saw a place called Agadir (does that mean something in Hebrew or am I really about to eat in a Norse restaurant?). The sign in front boasted that theirs was one fo the ten best burgers in the world and a neon sign wouldn't lie, so there you go. It was in the same space previously occupied by Moses burger (home of the "dinner while you wait for dinner" story of a few years ago) so again, I had the familiar while I also had the change. Same location, same layout, new name. That's enough of a shift for me. In I go.

My plan is to eat and then find Josie of army fame and hope she hasn't eaten, so I can eat again. Plans are important. In the unfortunate case that she has eaten or has no interest in eating, or has no time to eat, then I will at least have already eaten, and will probably have second dinner alone. So I had a burger, onion rings and a Guinness Stout. The onion rings are closer to a tempura batter (though not a huge amount of batter) and whole pieces of onion, not minced. There was also a slight and pleasant spiciness to them. The burger I ordered done medium but it was served a bit over. Still juicy and one of the ten best I had eaten all day. All in all, a nice meal and you can dance to it.

I walked over to Binyanei Ha'uma because Josie told me that there was an "army event" there so I waited for the mass of uniforms, serious minded youth all, to make egress. We found each other in the parking lot and she explained that the event was a Chabad sponsored concert at which a variety of famous Israeli singers didn't sing their own songs but instead sang Chassidish niggunim. Yay army, I guess. She went partly out of religious fervor, but partly because it allowed her the evening and next morning off. We started walking and talking. Josie is a good dozen eggs. I truly enjoyed our schmooze about family, the army, Israel and life in general and specific. She is a wonderful and interesting person and since she was in uniform, I felt important.

On to Beer Bazaar -- the one in what was (I have been told) the Shaarei Tzedek hospital in which my dad (A"H) worked in 1976. I felt very close to him because I drank beer. I didn't realize it, but Beer Bazaar is a milchig place and I wasn't. So we munched on the free popcorn (Josie cannot drink  while in uniform) and I had a flight of beer (5 small cups, each a different type of beer). I drank them lightest to darkest because there are rules. Before we left, I asked to use the mens' room. I was directed to some outside port-o-dans. These were the nicest outdoor bathrooms ever. They had actual sinks and terlets and such. If I had to go camping, I would take these.

We walked through the shuuk saying "no" to all the people and restaurants. Josie saw a friend, and we even saw some other people in uniform (which is unusual for a Wednesday night). We walked out fo the shuk and took a right turn and ended up at Burger Market which is not a market, per se, but a restaurant. So, second dinner there. We wordered at a big electronic machine, got out order number (270) and talked more about schools and food. I didn't ask but I wonder, why do Israeli restaurants think that, in order to digest properly, patrons need to go deaf from the thumping and pounding music? We finished up our food and walked back to the Swidlers and stayed up talking for a while with Nava, and N and D. Then sleep.

That was a fleeting wish -- I woke up 2 hours later with a stuffed nose and no interest in going back to sleep. I sat around for an hour and a half and tried again. And then didn't wake up until way later than my schedule dictated. And here I am, about to go back out now. Hi, noon.

An international incident

 Step one -- wake up. Check

Step two -- check work emails and texts and get frustrated. Return some, tag others for later ignoring. Check

Step three -- morning rituals of davenings, washing up, getting dressed, and attacking the day. Check.

I walked to Ben Yehuda (10 minutes). Buy a pen and paper because I forgot mine. Check.

I also forgot a mask. I feel like my body is not jet lagged but my brain is. Things just seem fuzzy and fuzzy things seem even fuzzier. Which is nice. I never could get the hang of Wednesdays.

Note to everyone -- my right foot hurts. I have new inserts and walking in them is an adjustment.

The second place I stopped in had decaf. First place didn't and the guy had trouble understanding the concept. Jerk and I don't mean soda. The second place had but I was skeptical. It was Cofix and I wanted to believe that they are honest, so I took the chance. NIS 8 is ok, but when I got the coffee I saw that it was topped with frothed milk. Gross. It wasn't sweetened but that made the milky froth even worse. I just wanted to get to the chwewy center of bitterness. If that's good, I'll call it a win. Eventually, I found the coffee. Let's hold off on that "win." It was really not good and in the process of trying to get to it and avoid the froth I spilled coffee on myself and now my phone is dairy. Thank you brain fog!

I saw a family I recognized. No names and just a apssing "hi" so that's cool. Just note, though that my not knowing their names is not a brain fog issue, but just a regular expression of my inability to remember names. 10 minutes and I was at the bottom of Ben Yehuda (including 2 stops for coffee in which the getting was worse than the not getting. Really bad coffee.)

15 minutes and I was at the bottom of Yaffo and a first view of the walls of the old city. Nice. 7 minutes to the Yaffo gate, 9:15 and I'm in.

5 minutes to the makeshift memorial where Eli Kay was killed this week. Just saying.

5 minutes to the security checkpoint to get into the Kotel area. I tore my shirt, intentionally.

I have taken the same picture of the approach to the kotel every time I have visited and I never tire of that moment so I never tire of taking that picture. It is new each time. I saw a sign into the tunnels so I branched off and headed towards a security gate because I figured that the security must be guarding something good. I put my stuff on the table for inspection and the guy told me that I didn't have to unless I was walking IN. Turns out I was leaving the kotel area and entering the Arab area. I walked a few paces, saw nothing that compelled me to stay and turned around. I put my stuff back on the conveyor belt and went back into the kotel area. I did then find a stair case that went down and seemed to be tunnel related but the door at the bottom was closed and the sign told me to enter around the corner. Who argues with a sign? I headed to the main tunnel entry and I'm glad I had my Tav Yarok with me because this was the first time after the airport that anyone asked for it. I actually felt good that he did. It meant that someone cared. Huzzah.

Of course, without a reservation, I couldn't do anything anyway so I immediately left, Tav Yarok in hand.

At the wall I came across the Steinharts (hi Steinharts!) and we caught up a bit. We chose to chat in a spot which is apprently named "sure we'll take your picture for you" point because that's what we did. A lot.

I made it to the wall and just marveled at it. It makes a lot of things very real, tangible, and powerful. The wall is, ultimately, just a wall and yet, at the same time, not "just" not "a" and not "wall."

I listened as the minyanim for shacharit kept finishing while others were just starting. It seemed to be the Jewish equivalent of "breakfast served all day."

I made a donation to a kolel -- a guy from the 5 towns chatted me up and seemed very nice and I thought if I could get this guy to give a bracha to my family and friends then that's worth a couple of bucks. Maybe I'm a sucker. Maybe. Maybe his kolel needed something and I was there and my little donation will help. Maybe one person can learn a little longer today because I helped a bit. Maybe. Maybe I was right there, at that exact moment for a reason.

I left the kotel (reluctantly) and walked back through the Jewish quarter. I had arrived via the Arab shuk, unintentionally. The signs pointed that way so I went. It was closed but I knew I was out of my element. I have gone that way before and not felt as scared as I did this morning. The return trip, through the Jewish and Armenian quarters was relaxing. Seeing tourist groups (including Israeli school students) at or approaching the wall was incredible. Seeing non-religious Jews having bar mitzvahs at the wall, choosing to celebrate a ritual in accordance with "Orthodox" practice regardless of their otherwise limited observance was heartening. They stoof next to clearly learned men and shared something very essential, neither judging, both just celebrating a moment together.

The walk back was substantially uphill.

Back on Ben Yehudah, I got myself a very large pomegranate juice. Just plain ol' pomegranates squished into a cup. Exquisite. This time I got it at the Etrog Man shop and it was more than 4 and a half of them (also, they didn't use a hand press, but a machine instead. Same effect.) NIS 34 and they gave me a little lotion to rub under my nose (there was some confusion...she kept saying "l'shafshef" which I knew meant "rub" but I kept sayinig "really?" because I couldn't believe that she wanted me not to just smell it but actually rub it on my face, so she thought I was correcting her Hebrew and that the English waord for l'shafshef was "really." Fun times). It was a mix of camphor, mint and other stuff. Quite bracing.

I had gotten the biggest size of pomegranate juice because, you know, go big or go home and I wasn't going home yet so, by law, I had to go big. It was delicious especially because with every breath in, I smelled a mix of camphor, mint and stuff.

At this point, while I wasn't going home, I really did want to go big, and needed a bathroom.

Hi to the Aranoff family.

I have to go back to that area as an actual consumer with time to kill so I can buy head accouterments for the ladies in my life and also Moshiko but today was not that day.

Note -- Jerusalem free wifi is not very good.

Steve picked me up at the top of Ben Yehudah and we headed over to the Malcha mall. To memorialize the event (mostly, the event was that he found a parking space) I took pictures. A guard came over and asked me why I was taking pictures. He said it in Hebrew though. So I answered in English "because I'm a tourist. I take pictures of everything!" He was befuddled so I walked away.

At the door, a guard asked me what I was taking pictures of (I had used a camera and not my phone) and I said "of the building so my family can see where I went." Now, you and I know that my family does not need to see pictures of the mall, but he didn't know that! Another police officer came over, machine gun at the ready because I'm a heckuva threat. She asked whom I took the pictures of. I explained "no one" just of the building and showed her the pictures. She seemed both unconvinced and disinterested at the same time. It was weird. So she warned me against taking pictures inside the mall. I said "sure thing" and Steve and I walked away. I had yet to cause an international incident but not for lack of trying.

We made our way to the food court. A kosher food court is and always will be an incredible sight so, yay. Too many choices so I went with "Meat Couture" because it has "meat" right in the name. I got the "chef's pieces" on a plate with some salads, and a pita. Plus I asked for a soda. For just 5 NIS more, the guy explained, I could also have a baked potato. Who am I to say no to a baked potato? So I said yes. I then took out my phone and took  a picture of my food as I am a rebel. Suck it security.

A note about kosher food courts. No matter what you order, you will look longingly at every other person's tray. Fact.

We walked out of the food court and I started to shop for headbands for Julie. I tried to explain what I wanted to a woman at a store. That didn't work out so well, but she let me take a video of the things she was selling for me to send to Julie. A VIDEO. Hey security (sing it with me everyone) SUCK IT.

We returned to the car and Steve pulled out of the spot while I waited to get in. While I waited I took a picture of the guard who gave me a hard time initially. We quickly left and he has no idea. So there.

Drove back and he dropped me off and here we are. After a short break, the evening activity will take place.

More pictures when I transfer from the phone and the camera to the computer.

I have seen one

 First off, a shout out to Ilana Lehrer whom I saw today while I ate lunch. I omitted her from the early edition and that unfortunate oversight should be mentioned. There, mentioned. Sorry.

Today was a full day of walking around and seeing people, some of whom I know. Let's review. After a morning of mourning and winging it, I went back out to meet with Z'iva, friend of families everywhere. She doesn't spell her name with an apostrophe, but I do, so there. We met for second lunch, at the King of Fries (a ceremonial title, I assume). I got onion rings, which makes all those potatoes turn over in their graves, but since homespun potatoes are tasty, you're welcome. The rings were similar to the frozen, bagged ones available in finer kosher supermarkets, with their minced onion filling and the crumbly orange crust, but these were served in a metal thingy and a paper cone so they were more fancier 'n stuff. They were mostly bland, like me (the french fries were salty, like me while the spicy sauce was sweet with flecks of red pepper in it, like me). 

Over second lunch, we discussed Z'iva's schooling and her school's recent camping trip. They stayed in tents with Bedouins so I asked it they were Bedouins and Breakfasts. She looked up from her fries and didn't stab me, so that's a win.

While there we saw the Buchsbayew family. Hi guys!

Then I looked at the fish and chips Z'iva bought and said "when life gives you lemons, eat some fish." Again no stabbing. I'm a success! Next guest on the show was a Papier who was visiting someone somewhere. This happens. People tell me stuff and I'm genuinely interested but I am unable to remember details. We wandered through Crack Square (neither crack nor a square, discuss). Saw the Greenbergs whom you might remember from such airports as "Newark" and airplanes such as "the one I flew in on recently." The goal was to hand Z'iva off to them for a rollicking good time, no doubt, but first we saw your master Greenbaum who was wandering his Tuesday away looking for a used book store. Most bookstores these days are unused so I wished him good luck. Z'iva left and I decided to wander up Ben Yehuda until I ran out of Ben Yehuda to wander up. 

In the middle of my saunter, i spied, with my regularly sized eyes, one Hope (don't call me at all) Goldstein. We schmoozed for a while, joined by a Max, and an Ashendorf, and, again a Greenbaum, and then Hope's roommate Hadassah, and briefly by another friend of Hope's to whom I was not introduced. All told, I ran into the entire population of Teaneck plus some from Monsey. I walked back to Chez Swidler with Hope in tow to hand off a package from home.

I had had enough of playing "see and be seen" so I went to the shuk because I knew I wouldn't run into anyone I knew there. The shuk, if you have never been, is a vibrant and exciting cultural melting pot. You hear all sorts of languages, including Hebrew, English with a Brooklyn accent and English with a Long Island accent. Fascinating!

I met up with the Oshins (remember the Oshins? There's a song about the Oshins) and our goal was to sit at Beer Bazaar and chew the meat. Alas, Beer Bazaar no longer has a back room (or did not want to admit it to us, or us to it) and the counter top plus loud noise was not appealing, so we bagged it and decided to find another option. Down the hill from the shuk was an intersection with approimately a million more restaurants but we chose Ish Tabach because of the promise of a seat. I had a shash-somethiing or other which is dough surrounding meat. The meat I chose was "asada" -- this refers to the inside of a cow, a very fancy choice. I put some chinchilla on it (I don't recall what that green sauce was called...like chilichongas or Jimmy Carter or Katie Couric or city jury/civic duty) and that was spicy. We ate and had some beers. I had a Moscow red beer which was sweet and had cola/bubblue gum overtones. and was red.

We spoke of covid, of real estate, of politics and of beggars who go from table to table (no farm required) asking diners for money. The food was delicious and I demured when enticed with the prospect of dessert. There's only so much one old man can eat, and I had eaten so much. That plus my nuts concern about nuts, and I chose the rocky road not tasted. I walked them back to their car and slid down Nissim Behar (why is it Behar in English, but Bechar in Hebrew?) and back to the Swidler compote.

Stay tuned tomorrow for such possibilities as

My lunch with Slaughterdale

Let's buy some headbands

Wall what do you know?

and

Keeping up with the Josies

A plot and a plan

 Welcome to the morning! Unless you are in another timezone, which I am, so it is afternoon. It's complicated but ultimately, who cares. Happy daze to all.

After a night's sleep (not mine...the night's) I began my gustatory assault. First stop, and therefore first annoyance is the Teller Cafe on Agripas. Except the street isn't called Agripas if you come at it from the side that, say, "I" wasn't coming from. So I walked too far and found myself somewhere else which is eactly where I looked for myself, so there I was. When I realized that I wasn't where I was, i had to stop, sit on a bench and look things up on a map, Like. A. Tourist.  I have become what I beheld and I am content that I have done right! I found my way back and walked in. It seems nice and I heard that it was a favorite haunt of my dad, even before he was dead, so there's that. I did  notice that there was no place to wash so I skipped the bread opportunities (I have since learned that you have to ask...how very selective). I also noticed that on most every pastry, there was something that could easily pass for nuts so I skipped all of that. Instead, I went to the nice lady at the counter and asked for a black coffee. She told me that they didn't have black coffee. Strange (I have since learned that black coffee means Turkish coffee...one wonders what you get if you order Turkish coffee), but she reassured me that they had Americano. I hate Amerircano (for the unitiaited, they make an espresso and water it down to approximate a cup of coffee. A waste of water, I say). But for the lack of anything else, I bought. NIS 12! Crazy, right? But I sat and (sans milk) milked the coffee and steamed about the situation, again, without milk. Caffeine, do your stuff.

Truth is, I'm overjoyed to be here and have little to complain about so i should just shut up and enjoy. Which I did.

I marvel at the history of all of this. I walked down Nissim Behar and see the people who now live in areas that there ancestors struggled to make into a viable city despite all the challenges. I think back further through the mists of time. In biblical days, what was it like right here? Did King David buy coffee here? Was it an Americano? Was he angry, just like me? Is this where Abraham illegally dumped his construction refuse or got a haircut? Did Samuel stop his car here and get honked by an impatient cab who needed to get just two block down? History. Wow, the bible comes alive.

I walked back to the Swidler house and then David and I walked to his parents' place which is approximately a level 7 maze away from his house. I know a hill was involved bu beyond that, nothing. We drove to the cemetery because it had been over 8 hours since I had been last depressed so, you know, laws and all that. I saw my parents' final resting place, though with all the construction, who can rest? I cried a little, then washed my hands fo the affair and we walked back to the car, and drove it to return to his parents. Shhhhh. Maybe they don't know we took it.

From their place we walked to the shuk, wandered some and ended up at Hatch for wings and (in my case) beer. After a cup of coffee for breakfast, this seemed like a reasonable lunch.

I had the stout that they offered because I am personally insulted by the idea of pale ales. Get some sun, jerks. Their stout was cold (!) and simple. Like me. It wasn't a complex beer -- no overtones or subtle flavors but it ended up that, for the wings, it was perfect. I got a whole mess of "naked" wings -- no sauces. There were sauces for dipping but they (while delicious) weren't actually needed. We sat "outside" which in the shuk means "just inside the market, not inside the restaurant, but, yes, still inside"; I had forgotten the simple pleasure of eating downrange of cigarette smoke. Ah, Israel.

Many wings and a stout later I was in a better emotional state. A fruit slushie for dessert and I'm ready for what the world has to offer.

By the way, if you didn't get it, the plot is the cemetery and the plan is what I "hatched". So there.

Flight or Flight

 Like barbarians, we davened Maariv at the gate -- 11 guys which seemed sparse for an El Al flight. Eventually there was a breakaway minyan because some other people wouldn't be caught dead daveniing with us. I guess.

I needed water to drink water so I went to go buy water. The guy in front of me had a voucher so he was paying for everyone's stuff. Free water! Money saved, right? Well, not exactly. I settled in with my water and discovered that the pen that I had so carefully packed had chosen to abandon its role as a writing implement. The ink had gone astray. So I needed to buy a pen. Crazy, right? I spend way too much and bought a pen and all that saved water money went down the drain (see what I did there?)

The plane arrived (it was a 787-9 Dreamliner called the Be'er Sheva...I like that El Al names its planes. It makes them more lovable. There was a mass of people milling about and a line broke out. They called for the Business class people and those who need special arrangements so everyone ran to board because we are the chosen people and are all special. Apparently. I promised myself that I would not rush to board. I had an aisle seat so I knew that I wouldn't have to climb all over anyone, so why rush. Then I overheard discussions about the limits on overhead bins and I, holder of a personal item and a backpack, gots to have my overhead compartment space, so I got on line.

My seat (and all seats in my section) ar very narrow. Very. My shoulders are actually broader than the seat so when people walked by, I got whacked into.

And now, an ad for Jewish geography -- Greenberg and Cohnen were on the flight, as was someone named Rachel with whom I went to college and someone named Ilana who went to college with me 2 years after me. And we're back.

The safety video was playing on a loop at my seat so I thought that that meant I wouldn't have to watch it when we took off. I was wrong. That Suchard mentalist guy is ok once or twice, but not 6 times. I planned o having some sugar and Benadryl to make the sleep show up quickly, but I skipped the Benadryl when I saw that there was Wifi on the flight. I wasn't skipping the sugar -- chocolate covered Payday bar. That's right. It was awesome

The Wifi was free only if you limited your browsing to sites called "El Al and things we sell." I should have had the Benadryl. Take off was fairly on time and we ended up safely in the air, so there's that. Dinner is served.

Dinner consisted of 2 chicen nuggets with some orzo and corn. The bread was actually bread and I wasn't going to wash so I missed out on that :(. The chicken was tasteless, but not in the funny way. Now, I know what you're thinking -- we lose some huge chunk of taste buds on a flight so I shouldn't be so quick to hate  but trust me: they were hot and filling, but tasteless. When I topped them with chummus, they tasted suspiciously like yummy chummus, and the chocolate cake for dessert was tasty and fantastic and i didn't just spout new tastebuds for the occasion, so I think that we can all agree that I am right and the chicken was flavorless, and not in the funny way.

I covered myself up with my jacket and tried to sleep (and, like the rebel that I am, I removed my mask while under the hood...yeah!). I put on some Mussorgsky (pictures at an inquisition or something) because it was the closest thing to classical music on the seatback audio menu.I was mildly successful at sleeping but also incredibly successful at finding ways to hurt. I experienced a new and different leg pain because of how I was contorted, so yay? I did get a few hours of sleep and fortunately, I have an advanced degree in "getting by after only a three hours of sleep" so this was right in my wheelhouse. I will be as incoherent as I am on most every other day so that's exciting.

I awoke to see the men around me beginning to daven morning prayers. They weren't daveing together in a minyan but were in the same general area of the plane. I had read up on the salient laws and it seems that the winds of halachic change are blowing and there was no call for a minyan on the flight. I put on my tallis and tefillin and wandered over to the popular prayer spot a few rows back. There was good lighting there. In the middle of my prayers, a guy came over to me and asked a halachic question. Of me. I was the one guy in a t-shirt. The one guy with the blue strupes on his tallis in a sea of black stripes and gartels and he asked me. I mumbled something non-commital as every good rabbis trained to do, asn went back to my prayers. Then the "seat belt" light came on and I, familiar with the salient laws, went back to my seat and sat down, then continued to pray. That was weird.

The sun dawned (and vice versa) so I watched a movie -- the video selections are old and not very good. Before the movie, I thought of a question -- if the basic wifi plan includes Whatsapp, does it include Whatsapp calls?

By the way, my seat was 27H, on the wing. This is not nearly as exciting as Shakespeare makes it out to be in Hamlet. Look it up. Being on the wing gives one a fascinating view of the wing.

I watched Chips, the movie. Not as carb filled as I would have liked but with enough partial nudity to make it awkward to watch on an El Al flight. It wasn't a horrible movie and Michael Pena is a fantastic actor. But it was awkward and at times, way to uncomfortable for me to watch (not a function of the R rating, but the situations which were very uncomfortable for me).

I then watched 2 episodes of a documentary about Michael Palin and his documentaries. I enjoyed it much more than the movie. Because I'm an old man. Breakfast was served: a bland cheese omelet, pureed tuna spread, real bread (sad), a little bit of fruit, some granola and a cup of plain yogurt. Gross. 

As the sun rose (or set...I have lost track) I noticed that the windows in economy were all tinted blue but the ones in business were not. Take that! The tint is instead of shades and is controlled by a digital dial by each window. But then it is overridden by the default plane settings making the choice of the passenger moot.

We landed which I guess had to happen eventually. Deplaning was actually very quick. I zoomed through all the various checkpoints. I got through biometric entry, and the guys checking biometric entry. I got through passport control and the guys checking passport control. I got to the baggage claim (mine came out late in the game but that's ok) then off to the COVID testing building which was a mass of huamnity all having the temerity to breathe. I had paid in advance and kept the bar code visible so the people there presumed I knew what I was doing. I was just paying attention to what got the people in front of me yelled at and I didn't do that. It worked out. My Hebrew is mediocre (and masks make it harder to understand) but by paying attention I was able to look like I knew what I was doing. I didn't. Shhh. At the COVID station, they first swab your mouth and then your nostril with the same swab. That can't be hygienic or sanitary. 

Anyway, I got my yellow bracelet which shows I have been tested and I await results. I found my way to the train station (I couldn't hear the vendor at the ticket booth so I thought he said NIS 6.50 but he said NIS 16.50 so I looked foolish. Ugh). I took the escalator to the platform. Note to everyone, save your ticket. You need it to get on AND get off the train. I figured that people would just throw their tickets on the floor like normal people but then they would be stuck on the train forever. Fortunately, I was in a nostaligic mood and saved my ticket so I was able to produce it and make my escape.

The train station is NOT right next to the bus station. The construction (so substantial!) makes it hard to get your bearings, and many streets are closed. So anyway, i found my way to the Swidlers but it was touch and go for most of the trip. I'm settled in and am ready to attack tomorrow through the haze of a good night's sleep.

Newark or later

 Just a quick starter.

Many moons ago (shout out to the new baby) we were expecting the child to get married in Israel so we bought us some tickets. Then, the Covid. By law, all old people have to include the definite article before all important tech/science nouns, thus "the Covid". The wedding was moved to the good ol' US of A and the tickets began burning a hole in a variety of wallets and the pockets in which the aforesaid wallets resided.

What to do? Well, one option presented itself when my school calendar was printed -- I noticed that the school would be giving 2 extra days off around Thanksgiving so I decided to use one of the tickets and see the country side. And by that I mean the inside of the restaurants in the country. So off I go.

I'm currently sitting in EWR, nice and early, traffic unable to stop me from getting here with enough time to move in and make the terminal my new home. Thank you to the Mrs. for the ride (and the doggo for the company). I know it is fashionable to make fun of me for being beurotic and ridiculously early but I wasn't even the first people here! I got on line behind a nice Israeli couple (I define "nice" as they didn't try to talk to me) and then we were told that we had to leave the line and go to the pre-security area which had yet to be set up. So, yeah, we were early.

What fascinated me was what went on before the security process started. First, a gentleman from El Al walked around and looked in all the garbage cans and behind all of the benches. He checked everywhere, just to make sure that the entire area was clear and safe before anything began. Then we waited as the El Al staff set up their check posts, distributed their various stickers and pens and then started peppering us with questions. Fortunately, I had studied and knew my own name and where my sister lives. A few questions later and I was cleared to go wait on line! I felt so important.

Off to the check-in line where I waited for the various chek-in people to take their marks. I was called to the fore and asked about the contents of my bag -- is there anything hazardous? No. Are there any batteries? No...I mean, yes. Uh oh. To save space in my carry-on I had moved a camera and some little batteries into my suit case. Experts needed to be contacted and consulted. Tense moments passed. Clocks ticked. Somewhere, a dog barked. I don't know where, but odds are, amirite? Then, the thumbs up. I was cleared to hand someone else my suitcase. Then, off to the gate security area where I was cleared to wait on line!

Next up, the wandering queue leading to a gentleman who wanted to get a good look at me. This is fine because I'm awesome to look at. Then I got waved through to wait on line so I could partially disrobe, put everything I have in plastic bins, wait for it and me to get properly irradiated, and then claim it on the other side. Huzzah. In my carry on there is now a Payday bar glowing green.

By the way, I had all the paperwork ready and they checked it -- not for long, but maybe that's because I had it all at the ready and they were so impressed with my neurotic organization that they trusted that no one who is that meticulous could be up to no good. Or they are just better at doing their job than I would be in their place so they need less time per passenger. Either way, I reassembled myself and began the slow walk to gate B63 where I now find myself. So I will settle in (I have plenty of time), watch Dallas stink up the joint and psych myself up for a flight into the gustatorily satisfying unknown.

More eventually; stay tuned to this bat channel. Or ben channel if you are a boy.

Don't watch this movie or else

 I saw a movie this weekend. Well, actually, I saw two movies and while neither was good, I want to talk about one of them beause it was worse than bad.

I don't consider myself to be a real expert on movies. I knew an expert on movies -- his name is Michael Ellis. Fantastic guy, also an English teacher. He stayed up at Quincy HS and seemed to do ok there (based on my limited stalking) and I haven't spoken to him since grad school. But movies were his thing and I respect that greatly. But, while I'm not an expert, I do know a thing or two about a thing or two. And I know when a movie is painfully bad. This was worse.

Last shabbat, I scanned through the Jewish Standard, a quasi-newspaper published weekly serving the greater Bergen county area Jewish community with ads and questionable content. I like to review it to make sure that I'm still not important. So far, so good. One of the things this paper does is it writes short stories about celebrities when the story has some connection to being Jewish or the Jewish community. And they put the name of Jewish people in bold font so you can know who is Jewish. Because, apparently, that matters.

There was a snippet about a movie starring Don Most (yes, from Happy Days, and, according to IMDB, a lot of other stuff...you'd be surprised). The movie was from 2009-2010 but is now on Netflix so, yay Jews I guess. If we can mourn a temple destroyed in 70 CE, and celebrate an Exodus from 1300 years earlier, so a movie from 12 years ago is pretty much current events. The movie is called Yankles and is about a group of religious Jews who start a college-level baseball team. The Rotten Tomatoes page indicates that some people liked it. Those people are clearly idiots.

There are many levels on which a movie can fail. In fact, before this weekend there were many, but now there are more. This movie actually invented new levels on which to fail, and then it failed. Remarkable. Sing it with me:

Bad acting. Like really, objectively bad acting. Lines poorly delivered, wrong emotions, bad timing. I don't recognize the actors and am not going to look them up to see if they are competent elsewhere. They aren't good enough for me to waste my time.

Bad editing, poor cinematography. The sound was mediocre.

The story or stories were muddled and poorly paced. Characters were two dimensional and confusing and their motives (despite heavy handed exposition) were never really clear. Change was not logical and plots didn't make sense.

But those are just ways in which the movie was bad. Let us also consider how the movie was embarrassing and actually offensive, completing the trifecta of tortuously bad and unwatchable movies.

Clearly, someone Jewish was involved in the making of this movie. But this Jew was consulted early in the process and then dropped off on the side of the road somewhere, never to be heard from again. The casting led to inauthentic perfomances that were laughably bad, except I was crying too hard to laugh. And not the good kind of crying. Somehow, this movie made all branches of Judaism look stupid and it tapped in to the absolute worst misunderstandings of what this religion is. Couple that with bad acting by people who don't understand what they are doing and why, and you get a really horrible representation of Jews. Jews singing, Jews studying, Jews just having conversations and relating to each other -- poorly done, inaccurate and offensive. And then there were the other ones...

Every stereotype you can imagine was there, and in the most offensive way. Every racial or ethnic group was represented in the worst way you can imagine. No, worse than that. You can't even imagine how horrible it is and I refuse to repeat some of the truly egregious stuff. I'll just put it out that the team recruits players who are black because of their assumed athletic prowess, and the Jews eat in a Chinese restaurant (which ticks off so many stereotypes efficiently, so I'll give them that) which leads to a "hilarious" moment of repeated bowing.

The ultimate religious lessons are hypocritical and destructive. The messages are problematic. It was excruciating even to fast forward through scenes (the "Purim?" party and the music performed there was really tough to experience and didn't even watch it. Still painful).

Are there positive elements? A little of the acting did rise to the level of "acting" and the actors held the books right side up so there's that. But other than that, no, there was nothing good. 

So, in sum, I'm not saying "don't watch it" but I am saying that if you watch it, I will come to your house and punch your television. Or phone. I don't judge. Except this move -- that, I judge and it deserves the death penalty.

And so you should know, this review is way too nice to this movie.