Life in Yerushaliyim

Or should I say, “Vive La Jerusalem!”? As it turns out, although I am studying tons of Hebrew, the survival language I am being forced to use is French. It seems that in someone’s infinite wisdom, I have been placed in a dorm of 100% native French speakers, (er, um, with an average age of 19—use your imagination regarding chaos levels) and when I say that my spoken French is better than their spoken English, that is not actually saying anything good about my French. Let’s just say that if I was an RA responsible for this floor, I would have probably already quit. But enough of that—who really needs to study or sleep?

Lots of Miscellaneous Thoughts . . .

So we have a fragile cease fire, and for this I and many others are saying “Baruch HaShem.” The general feeling here seems to be one of collective “we’ll see,” and the Israeli saying of “Better a critical editorial than a praiseworthy obituary” contains much truth and perspective. How does anyone weigh defense vs. annihilation? I don’t think any of us in the US can really understand this perspective or answer this question.

Hebrew University is really located in a stunning place. The photo that I have posted one I took from the humanities building, just below the university Synagogue. The keep the perspective, the Rothberg International School where all my classes are held looks over East Jerusalem, and throughout the evening we are greeted by the sounds of prayers from the mosques. I find the sounds to be among the most peaceful I have ever heard in a city, anytime, anywhere.

I have had a few emails asking about security—even with the war hopefully over, I still would like to take a few minutes to address the questions. Security like everything else in Israel is a matter of perspective. Generally speaking, I feel much safer on the Mount Scopus campus than I did on the U Montana campus, and much more than at Temple. In 2002 a suicide bomber hit the Sinatra Café (yes, you heard right, the Sinatra Café) about a 100 meters from where my classroom is, and since then there is no entrance at any time onto campus without an ID check, bag check, and walk through a metal detector. The same is true for all dorms. Israeli police and army personal man the checkpoints, armed with very large and very automatic guns. Sponsored trips to the city are on private buses with armed guards that accompany the tour groups beginning to end. State run buses also have tight security, and when one gets use to the ubiquitous Uzis, life seems secure. That being said, what does security really mean? Should one become “use to” Uzis? These are questions for another post, but I still say that it is a hard to judge the Israelis unless you have lived in Israel as it is to judge the Palestinians unless one has lived in Palestine.

Specific to my cat loving friends: I don’t know if I can recommend you ever take a trip to Israel. Apparently, once upon a time, there was a major rat problem in Israel, so the Israelis imported a ton or so of cats, which have now become the x generation of feral cats that are as populous here as squirrels were on my campus at the University of Montana. Some live well, some do not, some are in good shape, some are not. I have begun a photo collection, however, that will be posted in the next week or so on paulstrasko.com along with all the photos I have been collecting.

My class itself, Aleph Sheva, (meaning out of the 15 beginning Ulpanim I scored straight down the middle in my entrance exams) is a regular United Nations in and of itself. We have: 1 Brit from Liverpool, 1 Australian from Melbourne, 1 French girl from Paris, 1 Moroccan, 2 Koreans, 3 Arab Israeli Citizens (who, I really want to say, are among the most profoundly fun people I have met here, and proudly call themselves Israelis), and two opposite coast Americans, from Seattle (ahem) and Brooklyn. After a week of class, covering about two chapters a day from the book, we are still in some ways at the “See Dick Run” level, but on the other hand, I now have enough knowledge that yesterday I made the transition from “Shalom-- Ata Mehvin Anglit” (Hello, do you understand English) as my first words in a shop, restaurant, etc., to Hebrew only. Ordering a meal or buying a t-shirt isn’t exactly arguing about fragile peace agreements or Talmudic principles, but . . . .

Alright – I’m done for now. Hardly anyone has commented on my posts, so I am going to get all whiney and assume that only Sandra and one or two others are reading this. You all know that I need tons of attention, so please let me know you’ve been here, or even let me know what you want me to write about in Israel. For those of you that have commented or sent me other emails, I am profoundly grateful, as it is honestly a bit lonely here on occasion.

B’Shalom,

Paul