Easter at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

We decided to be adventurous on Easter, and so today we struck out for the Old City, to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Many thousands of Christians make pilgrimages to the Church each year, and our trek, with our trusty double-umbrella stroller, felt as epic as any. To get to the Old City, we need to patch together a series of walks and bus rides to the entrance of our choice (there at least a half dozen open entrances to the Old City, and several others that have been sealed off). Today, we entered at the Damascus Gate, on the northern side of the walled city; here we are before heading in:

 

Eric and I had been a little wary of making this trip because to get to the church from this entrance, you need to travel through the shuk (or suq, depending on your preference), which is the vast open air Arab market in the Old City, made up of tight, labyrinthine stone passageways lined with shops set back into the ancient walls. We weren't sure how it would go wheeling the boys through the shuk -- which, like the rest of Israel, has a lot of hills as well as windy passages -- with a double stroller. Turns out it wasn't too bad. We only got off track once and had to carry the stroller up a long flight of stairs, but we figure it was good exercise! Otherwise, everything went well. Many of the staircases in the shuk have ramps that helped us get up and down the stairs -- we only had to make sure to get out of the way when one of the men pushing carts filled with everything from citrus fruit to window glass to propane tanks came up behind us! 

 

 

In every way, traveling through the shuk is an incredible sensory experience. The passageways are tight, the walls high, and so there is not a lot of light; there are abrupt turns and intersections, so it's easy to get disoriented; the place is usually packed with tourists, pilgrims heading to the various religious sites, and residents -- including children who dart across the alleyways and hang out in their parents' shops. There are smells of produce and incense and garbage. Above the din of all our voices as we talk and move along the passages, you hear the conversations of the shop owners, loud music coming from the shops, and the shouts of the men pushing carts down the ramps. You can buy pretty much anything in the shuk. Shops are filled with everything from pastries to spices to produce to meat; stores stock shoes or workout clothes or belly dancing outfits or modest religious garb; we passed doorways full of cheap toys, toothbrushes, scarves, and religious garments; shelves stacked with undergarments and appliances, upholstery and maps. It goes on and on and on; it's hard to imagine how each of these tiny stores stay in business, but somehow, each doorway is fully stocked.

 



We made our way through the shuk and passed through a few more streets on our way to the Church. During our walk, we traveled a short section of the Via Dolorosa, which follows the path Jesus walked as he carried his cross to his death. Nine of the 14 stations of the cross are on the Via Dolorosa, and the last 5 are in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself.

When we arrived at the Church, the courtyard was, not surprisingly, packed with tourists eager to go inside this sacred site.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is built on the site where many believe Jesus was crucified (also called Cavalry or Golgotha). The building is actually a complex of churches and sanctuaries sacred to many different religious groups, including the Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and Armenian Apostolic churches. Because many religious sects must share this sprawling, sacred building, the church fuctions according to a very old and complex set of rules which govern the common areas and sacred spaces. One family has held the keys to the church's front door for generations. Fights have broken out among members of the religious sects over such small greivances as moving a chair; and a ladder made of cedar has been left leaning by one of the upper-floor windows since 1747 because no agreement can be reached as to how and where to move it. Like so many sacred places in this city, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, it seems inevitable that along with worship comes conflict.

If you go in the entrance and take a sharp right, you can go up a steep staircase to view a stone under glass; this is where many believe Jesus's cross was placed. If you go straight when you enter the main doorway, directly in front of you is a huge slab of stone placed where many believe Jesus's body was washed after he died. You'll see pilgrim after pilgrim come and kneel by the stone, touching the holy water that covers it. Some kiss the stone, others lay their cheek upon it, and almost everyone takes out an icon, cross, set of rosary beads or a any personal item you can imagine (postcards, jewelry, scarves, hats) and rubs them in the holy water. Today, there was barely any water left on the damp stone, but people knelt and hoped for blessings, regardless. Alexander touched the stone, and then headed off, dancing to the organ music from the service that was happening during our visit. Because of the crowds and the mass, we couldn't easily move through the entire church today, but it was exciting just to be there at all.

After our trip to the church, we made our way back out through the shuk and the Damascus gate, then up Jaffa Street to a vegetarian and vegan restaurant we discovered when we were here five years ago. We had a great lunch outside, and for dessert, stopped for more of our favorite juice up on Ben Yehuda Street. We didn't get back home until nearly 3 o'clock -- way past the boys' nap time -- but we all took late-afternoon naps before dinner. All in all, it was a wonderful day. Happy Easter!

Chag Sameach

"Chag Sameach" means Happy Holidays in Hebrew, and with Passover and Easter in the same week, it's definitely holiday season in Israel. Most schools are on break, many shops are closed, and all of the supermarkets have big drapes blocking access to any food that is not kosher for Passover. The weather has been fantastic and the parks are all teeming with families enjoying their vacation time. Yesterday, after returning our rental car, we walked back home through downtown Jerusalem, and the city was absolutely packed with natives and tourists out walking, shopping and sightseeing.

We spent a couple of nights out of town earlier this week. On Monday, we drove to Netanya, which is a city along the Mediterranean coast, north of Tel Aviv. That afternoon, we spent some time in a playground near the beach. Here's a video of Alexander going down the slide, taking care not to drop his pita and cheese sandwich!

That evening, we were treated to a wonderful Passover seder at Eric's cousin Ruthie's house. "Seder" means "order" in Hebrew. In recounting the Israelites' freedom from slavery in Egypt, as told in Exodus, the Passover seder is an "ordered" meal that involves ritual and symbolic foods, generous amounts of wine, and a retelling of the liberation story. It's a particularly nice holiday because the themes are directly relevant to life in the world today: ideas of freedom, civil rights, justice, etc., are all prominent in the larger Passover narrative.

Over the past several years, I've really come to enjoy Passover. While a lot of people joke about how reading the Haggadah can be an hours-long experience that puts off a long-awaited feast, it seems I've been lucky in that the seders I've attended have been reasonably paced. I find something comforting in the act of bringing a bunch of books to the table, and taking turns reading passages out loud, taking breaks at the appropriate times to eat foods that connect us to the struggles that others went through in the past (such as eating bitter herbs to acknowledge the suffering of the enslaved). Instead of taking place in a church or synagogue, the rituals for Passover take place at home, and I've recently found that this gathering, with its focus on food and story and family, is becoming one that I look forward to. Eric and I are grateful to Ruthie, her partner, Yossi, and her mother, Marcia, for welcoming us into their home, along with several other of their family members and friends. The meal was a feast of chicken and beef dishes, roasted vegetables and fresh salads, matzoh and desserts. We had to leave the table twice to put the boys to bed -- Benjamin went down pretty easily at 7 (the usual time), and Alexander made it through most of the meal (he made sure not to miss desert), tottering up the steps to bed closer to 10pm. As I lay with him on the floor as he slowly fell asleep, I could hear everyone singing in the dining room below us. It was clear everyone had a great time, us included.

Yossi's son, Yair, and Ruthie's son, Yonatan, took some great pictures throughout the evening, and as soon as we get copies of the photos, I'll post them. In the meantime, here are a couple of pictures we took the next morning, as we were relaxing in Ruthie's back garden. Alexander had a great time playing with the toys Ruthie and Marcia pulled out for him, especially this watering can that he used to water some of Ruthie's beautiful flowers.

 

Here's Benjamin, getting tickled.

 

 

And here are the boys together; they're starting to interact a lot more, which is sweet to see.

 

 

Later, Benjamin and I relaxed in Ruthie's swing; he fell asleep shortly after this photo was taken.

 

 

After a great visit with Ruthie and her family, we headed south to Herzliya, a suburb north of Tel Aviv, to spend a night with Michelle, who lives in Vermont but, like Eric, is here in Israel on a Fulbright grant. Michelle and her daughter, Mikaela, are in Israel for six months; Michelle's husband, David, came over for a holiday visit. We loved hanging out in their backyard in Herzliya on Tuesday evening, and spending time with them on the beach on Wednesday. It was a windy day and the only people in the water were surfers; most of the beach chairs were still stacked up and the cafes along the boardwalk were fairly empty, but I can imagine how packed the Herzliya beaches will be in a few weeks; they are beautiful! Hopefully we'll head back there soon to do some swimming and playing in the sand, but in the meantime, it was great to just be by the ocean on such a brilliant sunny day.

 

Thanks to Ruthie, Yossi, Marcia, Michelle, David and Mikaela for hosting us during our first few days out of the city!

More Photos from the Garden

On Friday, after we came home from grocery shopping, Alexander and I were out in the garden, doing some of his favorite backyard activities -- sweeping the walkways, throwing oranges (what's the difference between an orange and a ball?), pulling snails off the stones, gathering up pine cones, and trying to make friends with the cats by saying "Meow!" every time he sees one of them -- when I noticed a distinct change in the air. The sky thickened and turned a yellowish tinge, and I thought I tasted dust. We eventually went inside and had our lunch, and we put the boys down for their naps, but as the afternoon went on, the wind picked up and blew with a steady force for the rest of the day, carrying with it a dusty film that seemed to coat everything. We shut all the windows and wondered what it was all about.

 

A quick internet search revealed that this wind was probably the "khamsin," or "sharav," a springtime wind that affects countries from North Africa up into the Middle East. The wind carries dust from the desert, and is usually hot and dry. While this wind wasn't particularly hot -- in fact, I think the temperature dropped -- it was indeed dusty and persistent. All afternoon I was mesmerized by the sounds of the wind, the odd look of the sky, and the whole concept of desert dust whipped up and brought to us here in Jerusalem. Whether or not it truly was the "khamsin" that we experienced, the wind definitely got my imagination going. I'm now trying to write a poem about it.

 

So this morning, when the sky was a perfect blue again, it was a joy to go out in the garden and enjoy it in the full sun. I couldn't resist posting a few more pictures of the flowers that are blooming all around the house. And more are coming! We're really enjoying the variety of plants that thrive in this climate and landscape.

 

Tomorrow we head toward the coast for a couple of days, to celebrate Passover with a cousin of Eric's, and to hopefully spend some time on the beach!

Obama: No Drama for Us

Turns out that it takes going overseas during a presidential visit to make me understand just how big a deal a visit from a U.S. president can be in a foreign country. In the past two days, Eric and I have realized that while it's incredibly difficult to actually get close to President Obama, his presence affects nearly everyone living in this city. From road closures to helicopters constantly circling the skies, from the cops camped out in the nearby playground to the constant Obama news coverage, there is no doubt that Obama's visit has had an impact on everyone in Jerusalem.

This morning the weather was beautiful, and I went out for a run in the park. I intended to do my usual loop up across the wooded hillside toward the Israel Museum, then down into Sacher Park, but partway up the hill I was stopped by Israeli soldiers, who told me I had to go back down; I was getting too close to the Museum, a soldier told me as he looked at his watch, and Obama was headed there shortly. The whole hillside was off limits.

So I headed downhill again and instead ran past the monastery toward the Park. I knew Obama was headed toward the Museum this morning, to view the Dead Sea Scrolls, but I didn't know exactly what time he was scheduled to be there. Turns out he was en route during my jog. So I ran up to the road that leads to the Museum (which was closed to traffic, of course, and lined with soldiers and police on foot) to see what was going on. Though there were plenty of other runners and walkers in the park, enjoying the morning, there were only two other civilians on the roadside leading up to the Museum. I talked to one guy, a German student, who knew Obama's schedule better than I did and was explicitly waiting to see the motorcade go by. Gesturing to the empty sidewalks, he said, "I guess the Israelis don't love Obama so much. No one's here to cheer him on!" After we had talked for a minute, a police officer came across the road to stand near us, and we all waited patiently. In just a few minutes, the motorcade did show up, and I'll admit it was pretty impressive to see the caravan of police vehicles, SUVs, fire engine, ambulance, and motorcycle cops speed by us. It made me wish I could actually see the President, but I guess it was an experience to at least get as close as I did; when I returned home, Eric, who had a ticket to go hear the President's speech in the Jerusalem convention center this afternoon, joked that I probably got closer to Obama than he would. Turns out he was right. I'm going to have him jump in here to write a little bit about his day...

(Eric) ...While I have strong opinions about lots of things -- political and otherwise -- I'm generally not a fan of politicians, even some of whom I've voted for.  Even worse for me is listening to soaring yet empty political rhetoric. So I hemmed and hawed about going to see a telecast -- a telecast! -- of Barack Obama at the International Convention Center. My invitation was to view the speech on a large closed-circuit television in a room adjacent to the main auditorium, with the slight chance that I'd be chosen to sit in the main auditorium if space permitted. To me, it all felt a bit like going to watch the Super Bowl at a sports bar. But Kate persuaded me to take advantage of this rare opportunity. And so, filled with guilt over leaving Kate with the boys while I went to experience this historic event, off I went. 

At the convention center, there were throngs of people, mostly students and other young adults. (Contrary to what the German student thought, in fact there are many Israelis who want to see, and yes, who even "love" Obama). Buses crowded the street, waiting to dump their loads of passengers, some of whom had traveled from the University of Haifa in the north or Ben Gurion University of the Negev in the south.  Media types were everywhere, as were armed soldiers and police. Hundreds of invitees swarmed around a small gate entrance, waiting for the 1pm opening.  Well, one o'clock came and went. Then 1:30 passed.  Suddenly, it was 2:00 and before long it was 2:30. I had moved, maybe, three feet, and that was mostly due to shuffling myself around out of boredom. The sun beat down on the right side of my face, giving me an asymmetrical tan/burn. All the while, I was asking myself "Is it worth it?" To be gone from Kate and the boys for up to 6 hours?  To see a man about whom I am relatively indifferent give a speech on a large TV?  As I thought about Obama's visit here to the Holy Land, I recalled a 17th-century Sephardic rabbi, Shabbatai Zvi, who people thought was the messiah, but was eventually revealed to be simply human. And I thought about how Barack Obama's ascendance has been similar. I mean, look: I, like millions -- billions -- of others had high hopes for the man, and thought he embodied a certain set of ideals that could bring our nation and world to a better place. But I was also quite skeptical. The truth is that he's mortal, and he's a politician. In the words of Public Enemy: don't believe the hype.

I finally decided that, no, it was not worth it. I turned, grumbled something in exasperation, and swam, salmon-like, through the crowd, onto the street, and home to watch the speech on TV, in our living room, with my wife and children...

... and (it's Kate again), when we couldn't even really hear the speech between the voice-over of the Hebrew translator and Alexander's irritated post-nap screeches, we ultimately turned off the TV and went up the street to check out the nearby pizza shop. Which, it turns out, is pretty good!

So much for our big chance to see President Obama. But as it turns out, his visit was, by all accounts, quite successful. From assuring Israelis that they are "not alone," to affirming his commitment to promoting dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians, to helping revive diplomatic relations between Israel and Turkey, it seems as if President Obama's visit was a positive one. Let's hope his efforts create some momentum for more peaceful interactions throughout the Middle East.

Giraffes, Glida, Obama

Obama's in town today; turn on the TV and every single channel is covering the President's visit. It's a big deal! We were tempted to walk downtown to try to catch a glimpse of him, but we figured it would be pretty nuts; lots of streets are closed, security is high, and all day we've been hearing the thwacking sounds of helicopters overhead. So instead of heading into the heart of the city, we took the bus further out of town, to the Jerusalem zoo!

This was Alexander's and Benjamin's first visit to a zoo, and we had a good time. Though it's hard not to have mixed feelings about zoos (the sight of a tiger sleeping off in the corner of his cage looked somehow sad to me), there's no doubt that it's cool for kids to see such a variety of beautiful animals. Of course, the highlight of the trip for Alexander was seeing the giraffes (his favorite animal), but he was also really into the monkeys and elephants, and the fish that were swimming in ponds throughout the zoo. Still, I'm willing to bet the best part of the day for him was when he got to eat most of the ice cream cone Eric bought for me. The Hebrew word for ice cream is "glida." Lately, Alexander has learned how to say both "glida" and "oogah" (which means "cake"). It seems pretty clear to me that despite our efforts to give him treats in moderation, Alexander definitely has a sweet tooth (which he certainly inherited from his parents)!

 

The Western Wall

We took our first trip to the Old City today. The Old City is essentially the ancient, walled city of Jerusalem. The best way for me to explain the difference between the "Old City" and the rest of Jerusalem is that the "rest of Jerusalem" feels a lot like any city, with bustling streets, commerce, varied architecture, and residential neighborhoods. The Old City has all of those things, too, but within the walls are some of the most sacred Christian, Muslim, and Jewish religious sites in the world, including The Church of the Holy Sepulcher, The Dome of the Rock, and The Western Wall. The cobblestone streets of the Old City are tight (cars can't travel through most of the Old City), and everything -- buildings, sacred sites, markets and restaurants -- seems closely knit. The Old City feels like a labyrinth in some places, dark and claustrophobic in others. It's one of those places that simply feels ancient, so even though when you're walking through it you see kids in school, families doing their shopping, and laundry hanging from windowsills, it still is somehow hard to wrap one's mind around the fact that people actually live in the Old City. It's both mythical and very alive at the same time.

There is a lot to see in the Old City, and we're hoping to make several visits to see the sites and neighborhoods -- there's way too much to take in in one day, especially when you're traveling with little guys who need to take afternoon naps! -- and so today we focused on getting to the Western Wall, or the Kotel. The Western Wall is a remnant of the ancient wall that surrounded the courtyard of the Second Jewish Temple. Herod the Great was responsible for most of its construction, and it was said to be an incredibly beautiful structure, but the Temple was destroyed by the Romans around 70 A.D.

To get to the Western Wall, we took a couple of buses and walked down a perimeter wall of the Old City. As we approached the Kotel, we could see the roof of the Dome of the Rock in this distance. The Dome of the Rock is a shrine that was built around the rock from which Muslims believe Muhammad ascended into heaven. The Dome of the Rock, which was completed in 691 A.D., was essentially built on the site where the Second Temple stood several hundreds of years before. So this area, which is incredibly sacred to both Jews and Muslims, is also full of complexity and tension.

Here is the Western Wall. You can see the glint of the Dome's gold roof in the corner of this picture; it was built up on the flat platform, or "Mount," above the Western Wall. Down by the plaza of the Western Wall (a.k.a HaKotel, a.k.a. the Wailing Wall) itself, barriers separate and designate areas in which men and women can pray.

 

 

Aside from the massive stones themselves, and the birds that flit in and out of nests built into the wall's crevices, the most striking aspect of the Western Wall is the notes that people have written and crammed into every crack, pock, and chip within reach. Today, I put a note in the wall, too.

 

Here's Alexander, taking it all in.

 

 

On our way back up from the Wall, we looked out over East Jerusalem, which is the mostly Palestinian section of the city. Just over those hills is the route to the Dead Sea; Jordan is in the distance.

After our trip to the Kotel, we had falafel in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City, and hung out a bit in a stone square, where there was a good crowd of tourists, soldiers, and residents. At one point, a crowd danced through cheering a young girl who we think had just had her bat mitzvah. And throughout our time in the square, a man was playing classical guitar, so, of course, Alexander did a little more dancing!

On the way home from the Old City, we saw this sign; we've been noticing them all over the city, advertising President Obama's visit to Israel this week. The posters say, "Unbreakable Alliance, President Obama in Israel 2013." They look to me like a political advertisement you might see during an election, or an ad for a sporting event like the Olympics. It amazes me that significant advertisement space has been taken up to promote the visit of a President from a foreign country.

 

On a more technical note, several people have told me you've had trouble posting comments. I tried to tweak this feature of the blog, so if you try to leave a comment, and you still have trouble, let me know. Thanks!

The Israel Museum

This morning, we made our way to the Israel Museum, which is -- amazingly -- about a fifteen-minute walk from our house. The temperature had cooled down to the mid-60s, and there was a brisk breeze, so it was a great day for a walk. To get to the museum, we make our way through Gan Sacher and go up Givat Ram (High Hill) toward the Knesset; the museum is on the top of the hill. Recently, the museum underwent an extensive renovation and expansion, and the result is a sprawling building that looks, from afar, like a bunch of interconnected stone and glass boxes. It's quite striking.

Going to an art museum with a toddler can be a nerve-wracking experience, so we weren't sure how this excursion would work out. But we had a great time at the Israel Museum, and that's in large part due to the fact that the museum has not only outstanding galleries, but also wonderful outdoor spaces. In fact, right after you buy your ticket and go through the turnstile, you don't walk into a gallery; you walk outside, and face a series of stone staircases flanked by fountains, sculptures, and gardens. Immediately, Alexander gave his trademark affirmation for something new by saying, "Wow!" He started wiggling to get out of his stroller seat, and in this outdoor setting, we could actually set him free. In the space of about a minute he checked out a large statue, sniffed some blooming rosemary, and became mesmerized by a fountain. As he stared at the moving water, he said "Mayim," which is the Hebrew word for water. He's beginning to pick up a few Hebrew words, which is pretty cool.

We did eventually make our way into some galleries, and while we didn't get to see the special exhibition on King Herod, we spent a good chunk of time in the modern and contemporary galleries. It had been a long time since I'd been in a museum and it felt really nice to be able to browse and take it all in, and I was impressed with how patient and calm the boys were. When Alexander did eventually start to get antsy, we could easily get back outside again, and we spent some time exploring the "art garden." Part of the garden has pathways through shade trees, and part of it is out in the open. Paved with gravel, the open section has panoramic views of the surrounding city, as well as long stretches of open space for kids to run around in. You can touch the sculptures, sit on stone benches, or simply take in the view. This place is perfect for kids, and Alexander had a great time out there. Here he is with Eric near one of the more prominent sculptures, by Henry Moore:

 

And here is with me in front of a huge sculpture of an apple, by Claes Oldenburg. It was great to hear him say, "apple," when we approached it; I wasn't sure he would recognize the fruit in such an outsize form!

 

Here's Alexander again, next to a sculpture of the Hebrew letters that spell "AHAVA" in Hebrew or "LOVE" in English. Maybe some of you have seen the English version of this piece in Philadephia. It's made by the same artist, Robert Indiana.

And lastly, here is a picture of Alexander and me in front of the Shrine of the Book, which houses the Dead Sea Scrolls, which are among the oldest known biblical documents. The scrolls were discovered in the 1940s and 1950s on the shores of the Dead Sea.

But wait! I'm adding in one more photo, just so you don't think we left our other child behind on this trip. Here is Benjamin, taking it all in from his favorite seat:

We only skimmed the surface of the museum; there are many more galleries we'd like to see, and there's a children's art education wing that we didn't even get a chance to check out. So we're pretty sure we're going to get a membership to the museum so we can go back as often as we like. The Israel Museum is fast becoming one of my new favorite spots in Jerusalem!

Dancing in Ben Yehuda Street

We spent a couple of hours this morning on Ben Yehuda Street, which is one of the more touristy streets in town. Eric ate some falafel, I bought a mint plant, and Alexander drank a big smoothie made of milk & date & banana (so delicious). On the way back home, we passed a street musician, and Alexander had to show off his sweet dance moves!

Tabbouleh and Plum Blossoms

Today did not start out so well. I woke up with a sinus headache, proceeded to spill half of Benjamin's liquid vitamins on the kitchen counter, and later, found Alexander pulling cleaning supplies out of an unlocked cabinet and taking the caps off of them (we'd been meaning to relocate them, but of course, hadn't gotten to it yet). Eric had to leave for an appointment in the late morning, and I was having one of those days when I just couldn't see how I could handle the two boys on my own. I know everyone has these kinds of days, but when you're in the midst of the craziness, it's hard to get perspective. Only now, in the evening, do I finally have it: I can look back over the whole day and see that it wasn't so bad, after all. The boys and I went out for a long walk down to Gan Sacher, and hit the playground on the way back. Before nap time, Alexander and Benjamin and I were reading Dr. Suess, and every time Benjamin looked at Alexander, he cracked up laughing. By the afternoon, my headache was gone, and I'd snuck in a 20-minute nap, so I found the energy to make up some tabbouleh, which I haven't had in a long time. It felt good to be chopping up food, zoning out for a bit, and the tabbouleh ended up being pretty tasty. We were surprised that Alexander liked it, too! I think this classic Middle Eastern dish is going to be a staple for us in the coming weeks.

I'm also posting a better shot of the blossoms on the plum tree out back. I try to look at it as often as I can, because I know those flowers are temporary. On a day like today, the blossoms helped cheer me up! So beautiful...

The Little House

In the first hours we spent in our house here in Jerusalem, I kept noticing the sounds of birds outside our windows. I hadn't heard that bright sound -- at least not at such volume -- in the last several months of New Jersey winter. So it was surprising to me that one of the first things I'd notice when we came to the city would be birdsong. Only after hearing the birds did I register the noise of traffic rushing by on the busier streets uphill and downhill from the house. And lastly, I began to notice the visuals: mostly, the sharp contrasts of the green trees, vines, and bushes growing against the buff-colored Jerusalem stone from which nearly every building here is constructed.

Of course, at the time, I didn't register these distinct sensory images. At first, everything just felt foreign and strange. I hadn't slept in 36 hours and I was irritable; I didn't feel "at home." The plants and birds didn't seem particularly beautiful to me; mostly everything just seemed different, and that made me feel an uneasiness that hung around for days. It's only after being here over a week, and starting to get over the jet-lag and colds that have slowed us all down, that I'm starting to appreciate the small beauties around our new, temporary house. While we don't quite feel "at home" yet, we're getting there.

Our house is in the Rehavia neighborhood in Jerusalem. It's one of the few free-standing, single-story homes in this area, if not the whole city. We are pretty sure it was built in the 1950s, and as the years passed and Jerusalem expanded, the city grew up around the house. There is a small garden around the perimeter of the house, but outside the garden walls, four-story apartment buildings tower above on all sides. I don't know if you've ever read "The Little House" by Virginia Lee Burton, but it's one of my favorite children's books, and I can't stop thinking about the story as I spend time in our Rehavia house. As the Wikipedia entry on the book describes it,

"The story centers on a house built at the top of a small hill, far out in the country. Her builder decrees that she "may never be sold for gold or silver" but is built sturdy enough to one day see his great-great-grandchildren's great-great-grandchildren living in her. The house watches the seasons pass, and wonders about the lights of the city, which grow ever closer.

Eventually a road is built in front of the house. This is followed by roadside stands, gas stations, and more little houses. Next, the small houses are replaced by tenements and apartments. Streetcars, an elevated railroad, and a subway appear to surround the house. Finally, two gigantic skyscrapers are built—one on each side; now living in the city, the house is sad because she misses being on the small hill in the countryside and that her exterior looks shabby due to no one living in her and the city's environment" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Little_House).

I have no idea if this is at all an accurate representation of this house's history -- certainly that last part about the shabbiness of the house's exterior is does not fit this place, which has been carefully tended. But sometimes I can't help but imagine what this house has seen over the past 60-plus years.

The street our house faces is a dead end that turns into a paved path down to a bustling main road, on which there are several bus stops (and the playground I mentioned in a previous post). So we're lucky in that few cars drive past our house. On the other hand, there is a lot of pedestrian traffic on the road, so it's pretty easy to stare out the big picture window or stand on the porch to see who's passing by: commuters coming from the bus stop, bikers, runners, couples, families, and about a million stray cats... anytime during the day, Alexander can step up on the stone windowsill and check out what's going on in the street. There's definitely a lot more street activity here than in East Windsor!

Directly out back, we have our indispensable clothes line (we don't have a dryer, but luckily, things dry fast outside here), and down the walkway you can see a sampling of the many different kinds of trees growing in the garden. I already mentioned the orange tree. Just now, a plum tree is coming into bloom (you can see its purple flowers). And there are several tall, tall pine trees with vines growing so thickly among them it's hard to tell tree from tree from vine.

Because it's been over 75 degrees the past two days, we've been opening up the doors and windows and spending time on the patio on the side of the house, which overlooks the garden and one of the large apartment buildings. This morning, a neighbor on the ground floor of the building shouted up a greeting in English. Turns out Rachel is originally from New York, used to teach high school English, and moved to Israel just three years ago. Rachel also told us she's a harpist, and that we might sometimes hear her playing out on her back porch. Sure enough, about an hour later, I was standing in the kitchen wondering if Eric had put the radio on some classical music station, when I looked outside and saw through the trees the outline of a harp on Rachel's deck. Now, life here doesn't always feel as idyllic as this incident makes it sound, but I will admit, it was pretty cool to hear harp music filter up through the windows along with those twittering birds.

Inside the house, there are basically four rooms. Here's the living/dining room:

 

And the kitchen:

 



 

Our bedroom (with Benjamin's crib):

 

And Alexander's room:

We're all getting used to the new layout, and for the most part, it's working out well. Now that we've finally got the hang of the solar hot water system, and can take hot showers, we're much happier! Our main challenge, as always, is to keep an eye on our intrepid toddler, who doesn't realize that basically everything here -- floors, fireplace, coffee table, windowsills, and outdoor walls and walkways -- is made of stone. So it's a little nerve-wracking watching him motor around this place, or engage in one of his favorite activities -- jumping on furniture -- but we're doing our best. Keep your fingers crossed that he stays safe as we continue to settle in to our "Little House."

Parks and Playgrounds

Over the past couple of days, as we've walked around our new neighborhood, we've been on the lookout for parks and playgrounds. One thing that's nice about living in a city without a car is that there tend to be playgrounds pretty much within walking distance of everything. Back home, we have to drive to every playground except one near our house, so it's a treat to walk around a corner in Jerusalem and see another patch of green, or better yet, a brightly-colored slide and some swings.

About five minutes from our house is a sprawling green space called Gan Sacher, or Sacher Park. The whole area is a complex of parks and gardens leading up to a series of government and cultural buildings. Gan Sacher itself is a broad low-lying lawn in a valley between two of Jerusalem's many steep hills. The well-trodden grass provides local residents with plenty of space for playing pickup games of soccer and frisbee, and the picnic tables and benches lining the grass are often filled with families barbecuing and relaxing in the evenings and on Shabbat. On our recent visit to the park, we found an outdoor exercise area that had equipment similar to that you might find in a gym. While we were showing Alexander the machines, a "bike gang" of young Hasidic boys came by and started working out. Here's a video of the boys, and of Alexander taking it all in.

You can circumnavigate Sacher Park on typical cement walkways, but what's interesting to me is that you can also veer off the paved paths onto dirt trails that crisscross the wooded hillside on the far side of the park. When I was here five years ago, and needed to escape the confines of our tiny apartment, I would jog down our street into the park, then improvise a route through the trails on the hillside. There, I often found myself completely alone, surrounded by cypress and olive trees, shaded a bit from the summer heat. I spent a lot of time running through Sacher Park, the adjacent woods, and up on top of the hill, where in a row, the stately buildings of the Supreme Court, the Knesset (which houses the Israeli Parliament), and the Israel Museum stand somewhat aloof from the rest of the city. I always found it fascinating that I could run through these very different "ecosystems"-- from a city park in which people from all demographics hang out, to a fairly quiet and serene wooded area, to a series of imposing buildings surrounded by cultivated rose gardens and armed guards -- in about 15 minutes. During my first trip to Jerusalem, Sacher Park was probably the place I felt most connected to in the city; in that green space, there is always something interesting to see. Years ago, I wrote a short piece about my experiences running through the park, and I thought I'd post it here:

Sacher Park

 

In Sacher Park, an Orthodox man lines up children by the playground. He waves the Israeli flag, eliciting cheers. Nearby, two Palestinian boys fly a kite shaped as a fighter plane. It darts and dives in the wind.

Everywhere, trash: plastic cups and cigarette butts on the sad, patchy grass. The park is dirty, and since I tend to be snobby, wanting my open spaces clean and green, I often find myself wondering why this is the place that calms me down, this is the place I keep going back to.

Despite the trash, the grass and trees provide a reprieve from the rest of Jerusalem, its crowds and grime and endless limestone. I come in the evening to run: through the bustle of the main park, up into the dry, forested hills, past the Supreme Court behind its metal gates, its guards and their guns. I run through the rose garden, past the monastery, and back to the place I started: the green lawns where everyone hangs out.

I like the contrasts I find on this run. In the hills, I can get the dose of nature I seem to need so badly, living as I do in a basement studio below a dingy, bustling street. Someone has reforested this section of the park with an impressive army of trees: olive and cypress, pine and oriental plane. One day, instead of running, I take a slow walk through the forest, field guide in hand, pausing every few feet to look at leaves, attempting to connect to the land by learning the names of its trees. Soon I realize many of them are not native. Beautiful as they are, most are transplants, carried here as seeds by a well-meaning hand. In a thousand years, will anyone know or care which species is native and which is imported? Will it make a difference who had prior claim?

Running down from the woods toward the lawns is like coming back to town after a stint in the wilderness. I want to see people again. Here, Orthodox men toss Frisbees, sweating through their white shirts, fringes flying. Palestinian families mill around picnic tables, grilling; the air smells of skewered meat and vegetables. I run past them all and am grateful for our collective leisure. Last week, a man stole a bulldozer from a construction site and drove it down the street a few blocks from here, crushing several cars and civilians before he was shot dead. Here, in Sacher Park, events like that don’t dominate my thinking. Seeing people out enjoying themselves, I feel safe, hopeful. If I’m lucky, I’ll see a hawk perched in a cypress. If I’m lucky, my favorite soccer team will be working out, and I’ll stop to watch them make their way through push-ups, sit-ups, sprints.  But the thing is, in Sacher Park I’m always lucky. It’s trashy and unkempt, crowded and smoky, but there’s just no denying the beauty of a place where people can be together with their flags, their kites, their sports, their food, and their differences.

 

So the other day, when we took our first walk through Sacher Park, I felt as happy as I've felt since we've been here in Jerusalem. I felt like I was on familiar ground. Last time we were here, in June and July, the park was mostly brown and dry. This time, we arrived in time to see Jerusalem in its spring greenery, so as we strolled through the park, we saw lots of bright flowers in bloom. I'm not sure of the names of all the flowers we saw (I need to get out those old field guides I had last time!), but I know this first photo is of a rosemary bush in bloom; they are all over the place right now.

 

 

 

Just outside the park, but still in the expanse of green space and walking trails, stands this 5th-century Greek Orthodox monastery:

 

We pass the monastery on our way back home from Sacher Park. Just across the street from it is a playground that is probably 100 yards from our front door. I'm pretty excited about this spot, because we can easily take Alexander here whenever he needs to stretch his legs. Just the other day, he took his first ride down a slide on his own, without the reassuring hand of mom or dad.

 

And even closer to home, we've discovered quite a treasure. There is a well-kept garden surrounding our house and in it stands a beautiful orange tree! The oranges are actually pretty ripe right now. You can see the tree from our kitchen window, and whenever we go out the back door, Alexander wants to pick another orange.

 

So for someone like me, who thrives when there are trees, and flowers, and green spaces, and room to run around in, I'm glad to say that Jerusalem has plenty of those things, especially in springtime. I'm sure in the coming weeks we'll be spending lots of time in these and other local parks.