A farewell kiss for Ben Gurion

Three thousand years ago, King David wrote these words
"אם אשכחך ירושלים תשכח ימיני"
" If I forget thee, Oh Jerusalem may my right hand lose its skill."
I couldn't agree more.

I know how to haggle.

I know how to make kubah soup.

I know how to cook with fresh spices, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh everything.

I know how to peel a pomegranate without getting white stuff in the seeds.

I know how to get directions in Hebrew.

I know how to be aggressive in everyday transactions and not get walked over (as much).

I know what real problems are for a nation.

I know how to make nano Stars of David reproducibly.

I know how to survive a giant offensive cultural or religious faux-pax by smiling and sincerely asking questions.

I know how to write from right to left.

I know what it is to be a visible minority.

I know how to get from the New Gate to Jaffo Gate to Damascus Gate in to old city without getting lost.

I know how to read my husband and give him space when he wants to be alone, and force a hug on him when he shouldn't be alone.

I know how to make a joke about religion and not offend anyone.

I know what the shabbat horn sounds like.

I know what the call to prayer sounds like.

I know what the church-bells at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher sound like.

I know how to use a High Resolution Transmission Electron Microscope.

I know that I am able to survive and even thrive in places where I don't fit in.

I know how to mix the sweet with the sad.

Knowing Jerusalem has changed me so much, and I hope, in some tiny way that Jerusalem is a little changed from knowing me.

Being so far away, I has been so nice to know that friends have been reading my little blog and cheering me though the rough times and laughing with me at the fun times. It certainly made me feel less alone in a far away land.

So a kiss for Ben Gurion, not to say shalom (goodbye) but rather laheetriot (see you later), and I am off on my next adventure. Who knows what whacky things will happen next?

The Last few Days

It has been a mad few days of packing, souvenir shopping and goodbyes. 

Yesterday, we made one last trip to Tel Aviv and the flea market in Yaffo. We didn't get what we thought we were going for, but came home with some other unexpected treasures. I also got to walk on the beach and have another plate of yummy shakshuka. 

It is 11:30 in the morning on my last day in Jerusalem. James is asleep since he worked from 1:30 am to about 8 this morning. I have been cleaning up from last night's dinner party with Max and Noa followed by a general clean of the the kitchen and the fridge. 

I feel unsettled and anxious, which is getting to be par for the course around here with the months of job upheaval for both of us and not knowing where we are going to be in six months.

When I think back to my first nights in Jerusalem and how ill I felt with the knot to trepidation in my stomach, this pales in comparison. When I told people I was moving to Jerusalem, I got one of two responses. "Is it safe?" was the most common and "You will have a great time" came from the few who had been to the Middle East. As promised, they were correct. 

I did have a great time. And a great adventure.  

There was a big dinner the other night with my lab and every one came. James and I showed up at the appointed time at 7. Everyone else piled in at 7:30. "Haven't you learned that about Israelis yet?" they asked. "We are never on time for dinner. " After over two years, James and I still haven't mastered even some of the obvious nuances of the culture. And as you folks keep reading, wacky thing just kept happening almost every day. 

It was sad to say goodbye to all my friends. I think they think I am a little cold or glad to be leaving since I didn't tear up at the farewells. It is not a sense of relief or gladness that I am leaving, but rather that it is a timely and necessary change. Or at least that is what I have been telling myself. And I am sure we will be back for visits. But I know it will never be quite the same. 

I survived all the speeches at the big dinner. I survived the hugs and final farewells. To laughter, Yossi and I shook hands by each grabbing one of James and giving him a good shake. 

At some point in the evening, my protégé Katy handed me a bag with the instructions that this was a private gift for me to open at home. When I got the chance and opened the card, my resolve finally shattered. She had such nice things to say about working together in the last year that I got all teary eyed. As for the gift, she said in the card that after two whole years in the Middle East I needed to go home with this appropriate gift. It was a push-up bra. 

Then I started crying in laughter.

Sharp Elbows

I wasn't a yelling match, exactly, more like an every day Middle Eastern disagreement. 

You may think I sound horrible for getting into a disagreement over a bus transfer, but only in Canada can you can get what you want by being polite. In Israel, politeness is mistaken for indifference and will get you walked all over. 

The bus driver this morning wouldn't give me my transfer. I had forgotten to get one when I got on the bus and -no kidding- 50 m down the road I asked him for one. He told me "there isn't any" which was a lie because he was handing them out like candy at the next stop.  

I waited until the stop at the central bus station and asked again politely. He refused loudly saying "it's not possible". 

"What's the problem? I got on at Safra Square. I asked you only after only 50 m!"

Then he yelled I had to ask for it just as I got on the bus.

I yelled back saying "It's morning! I forgot!"

Then more yelling but then he gave me the transfer anyway. 

YEA! I argued with an Israeli (In Hebrew) and won!

My elbows are sharp! I put up with no stupidity!

I will just have to wear elbow pads for the first few weeks of readjustment when I get home so people don't think I am bitchy. 

Mystery Fruit: Fruit Caviar

Well, we know what this one is, because when we asked the Shook seller what the name of the fruit was in Hebrew so we could look it up in the Hebrew-English dictionary later, he called it "Papaya."

On the outside, it looks like a bright acorn squash. When we sliced it open we both exclaimed in unison "Caviar!"

"But Fruit Caviar," I added " Which is good, 'cause real caviar is gross."

Unfortunately, fruit caviar turned out to be inedible. So we tried the yellow flesh.  That turned out to be inedible too as it was completely unripe. So now our garbage can contains two partially masticated bites of papaya.

Fruit caviar is gross too.

I got rid of the awful taste with a cookie. The cookie was the best part.

How disappointing.

Haggling

Today is one of those days where the winds blow across the city in from the desert. The sky is a murky grey with sand and a walk down the street means you get a free exfoliating facial treatment. They feel like the winds of change, as in just over a week, The Chicken and I will be leaving Israel. 

We went to the shook one last time yesterday, and James caught some awesome video of the strawberry seller yelling about his "Toot-eem". You can hear his competition yelling from behind with a similar refrain of "Toot! Toot! Toot!" 

Sometimes the shook sellers just like to hear their own voice and yell out nonsense. While trying to bag some swiss chard, the shook dude in front of me bellowed mournfully out to no one in particular

"LAMMA! LAMMA SHALOSH SHEKEL! HOO RAK SCHTIME VE HETZI, BETAH!" 

"Why? Why three shekels? It is only two and a half, surely!"

(FYI we are talking about the difference between 90 and 75 cents)

Today I headed to the old city and haggled for some X-mas presents and I am proud to say I finally discovered one of the great tricks of haggling. Whereas we North Americans tend to put a little extra in our pocket to make sure we have enough on the way to the store, when in a haggling environment one should put less in your pocket than you expect it to be. If the dude wants 60 shekels and you only have 42, there is no question about the most you will pay. 

Also, I got another good deal after an arab seller asked if I liked my two years in Israel and wanted to stay. "I can't stay, I'm not Jewish. You know how it is." He just lifted his eyebrow nodded once and dropped the price further on an item I was looking at. 

Generous trust

To sum up my latest adventure: 

Twelve AM jet-lag wake ups

eleven flights

ten days

nine drives to the airport

eight times through security (I think my shoes are glowing from the X-ray exposure)

seven different airports

six "dinner interviews"

five presentations

four new bras

three interviews

two eggs with bacon

and a missed flight (in a pear tree!)

Am I ever glad to be home. 

Due to my own stupidity, I missed my first flight yesterday morning. The only way I could make my connecting flights was to waste no time, drive 1.5h to Minneapolis and catch a flight from there. My cabbie, who was going off shift to spend time with his wife and take his sixteen year-old daughter for her drivers exam, kindly drove me. Ten minutes into the ride, after a call to his dispatcher, we realized I didn't have enough cash for the 195$ fare and I asked to use my credit card. Because the company is so small, they don't take credit cards. But there wasn't really time to go to an ATM and catch my flight. 

My world travelled cabbie said not to worry. He really just wanted me to get on my flight. He gave me his phone number and email address, and said he would just pay my fare to his company out of his pocket and to just send him the fare when I got home. A complete stranger spotted me 200$. 

Wow. 

Mining the Brains of the Locals

I have been mining the brains of my many cab drivers finding out the best and the worst of their respective cities. Most of my sources have been waxing poetic about the warm people, the proximity to the country, the affordable cost of living or the culture. They have been complaining, almost all of them, about their supposedly horrid winters, which I disregard since the only place in America that could possibly have worse winters than Edmonton is Anchorage.

Today's cabbie had something else to say. When I asked her for her favorite part about living in her chosen city, she said "Honey, I don't get out much here. I get in my cab, I shuttle drunks around, and I go home and spend time with my kids."

Hmmm. Way to sell your home town. Honey.

One interview down!

I think it went OK. Some of the faculty really seemed to like me, but others seemed to be saying goodbye like they were never going to see me again. 

All things considered, it didn't go so badly especially since I did the 12 hour interview on a whopping two and a half hours sleep. Stupid jet lag. By the time dinner rolled around, I wanted to nap in my Pad Thai. I have another interview today, and my sleep clock has shifted enough that I am now waking up at 4 am. So at least I can do today's interview on six hours of shut-eye. 

I am purposefully being vague about my interviews and impressions just in case one of my potential employers is a black belt in google-fu and finds this blog. You will just have to live with the mystery. Or call my mom or James. They have been getting the full story.