I'm going to talk about the highlights of today, instead of giving
you a play-by-play account, like yesterday. I can hear the cheering
already.
This morning we took the Carmelit subway up to
the Pilgrim Reception Centre (PRC). We were a little late, but we had
to meet our guides before we left on the bus to Akka, so it was all
good. By we, I mean Astrid from Ireland, and Julie and her nephew Eric
from the US. They're in a different group from me and Astrid, so we
split up and took different buses, but we went to the same place, the
Shrine of Baha'u'llah in Bahji.
After "refreshments" at
the Bahji Visitors Centre, which consisted of cookies and coffee,
juice, or tea, we filed into the shrine, taking off our shoes before
going in, as is customary. The ground is covered in lush Persian
carpets, as are the two shrines I visited yesterday (and again this
evening). We managed to get the whole group inside, which is unusual.
Usually there are three groups, so we circumambulate as a group and then
go in as individuals, but for some reason, we were only two groups. So
that was cool.
One of the guides (not ours) chanted the
Tablet of Visitation, a special prayer read at the Shrine. He was
really good! And this is coming from someone who's heard a lot of
Persian chanting in her life. Trust me.
After that,
people sat or stood in silent prayer, with some going into the side
rooms behind curtains to do this privately. I sat on the carpet. People
took turns approaching the actual door where you could see the inner
sanctum, for lack of a better term, where Baha'u'llah is actually
buried. It contains some decorative and commemorative items, like
candles and flowers. The flowers and other plants in the whole shrine
gave off a very attractive scent, though I still think the Shrine of
Abdu'l-Baha smells the best. It's amazing. Too bad blogs and photos
don't capture smell.
I learned that you shouldn't drink
tea before going into a shrine, so I had to leave relatively soon to
empty my bladder. But I went back afterward. I had to fight my way
through a throng of teenagers doing a tour of the surrounding gardens.
All the girls' hair was cut exactly the same way, and the guys matched
pretty well too. Now I know what the fashion is here. I'll need to grow
mine longer and cut the bottom in a sort of uneven curve.
It's
interesting being able to go to places at times when others are not
allowed, just by showing my nametag. I also really understand why
religious groups keep visitors out of some areas permanently. There's a
certain lack of respect apparent in most tourists. Nothing against them,
but it's clear that they have come to see, not to respect. Even if you
don't believe in something, you should give the people who do the space
to immerse themselves in their experience. Or so I think.
We
didn't see much of Akka this time around, but we're going back three
more times to visit some of the other Baha'i sites. For those of you who
don't know, Baha'u'llah (the Founder of the Baha'i Faith) was
imprisoned in that city for years with his family and some of his
followers. We're going to see the restored prison cell where he was, as
well as a few other sites. I'll fill you in when I've actually been
there.
Around one o'clock, we returned to Haifa and had lunch. I met a woman who is friends with an anthropologist and author, Joseph Sheppard. He wrote The Island of the Same Name, which is a pretty cool book if you're into sci-fi, culture, humanity, linguistics, anthropology, archeology, or Indiana Jones.
After lunch, I thought I'd take a power nap in the "resting room"
in the PRC's annex building. At 3:15, I was supposed to be up at the
International Teaching Centre, up the mountain a short distance from the
PRC through the Monument Gardens (lots of gardens around here). I
startled myself awake, surprised by the fact that I'd actually fallen
asleep. My headache was gone, which was a blessing, but when I went
upstairs, I saw that it wa 3:45. Half an hour late. To meet the members
of the Universal House of Justice, the international administrative body
for the Baha'is.
In a panic, I rushed up the mountain, through the Monument
Garden. It was a bit weird to rush past the monuments themselves, since I
haven't given them a proper look yet, but I was horrified at being so
late. I wondered if they would even let me in, but tried to calm myself
down by assuring myself that these were the Baha'is, not some sort of
tour group. They are much more human than some humans about these
things.
When I got to the steps of the Seat of the House of Justice,
which looks a little like the Parthenon, a woman was sitting outside
with a young child. I asked her if she thought I could still go in, and
she smiled. "Oh yes. They should be starting in another ten minutes."
I was kind of glad I didn't get there on time. Forty minutes is a pretty long wait.
Six of the members came in and everyone stood up for them, which I
found interesting. I understand it's a sign of respect, but in the
Baha'i Faith, the elected individuals have no power; it's only when they
act as the institution, i.e. together, that they exercise any
authority. I suppose they were technically acting as the House, but it
was sort of murky. They said a prayer and welcomed us, and then came
down from the stage and individually greeted us all.
Meanwhile, staff members sped our chairs away so that the members
of the House would have room to file between us. They were pretty
expedient about it and the chairs disappeared in no time. I was quite
impressed.
Supper consisted of shawarma and a pastry for desert. I met a
lady who is here with a helper because last year she was unable to
complete her pilgrimage. She's a bit older, and apparently on the second
day (today), at the meeting of the UHJ, she tripped over one of the
column bases and broke her knee and shoulder. She was in the hospital
here in Israel for a week, before Blue Cross flew her home to Canada,
where she spent another two months in the hospital there. Two months. So
she asked if she could finish her pilgrimage with a helper, and once
the letter was received from her doctor, they invited her back.
No wonder they make us all buy health insurance now.
I met a guy, Sebastien, who was one of the key organizers of the
Youth Congress I went to in Quebec in 2001. He was actually the one who
invited me and the others to supper at this shawarma and falafel place
higher up Mount Carmel. Everyone except him, Astrid, and me took a taxi
back down; we braved the bus and made it down very quickly. Sebastien
and I went to the Shrine of the Bab again, while Astrid went for a nap
at the PRC.
Then there was a presentation at the International Teaching
Centre by a member of the same. Several people fell asleep during it,
mostly from heat and a long day, but it was still amusing.
Afterwards, I wanted to check out this open mic down the road
from the hostel. I chatted with Joe and Dino (Dean), two brothers from
New Zealand who brought their 70-something dad here because it's been a
dream of his to visit Israel. He suffered three bouts of cancer, one
that led to the removal of his eye, so Joe was happy to see him excited
about being here. I didn't meet him, but hopefully tomorrow.
They were brought up in a Christian sect/denomination (Joe called
it a sect) called Christadelphia. All I know is that it's very strict
and doesn't allow its members to play sports, but I'd love to learn
more. It's intriguing. There's so many versions of Christianity out
there!
We didn't make it to the open mic because a rock cover band was playing right on the street. We went down to check them out.
They were pretty cool. One band member, originally from the US in a previous life but now from Israel, told us they played there every Tuesday, and have been for seven years. They pass the hat during the show to get paid. Not a bad gig.
Joe and I talked politics, economics, and religion (obviously), while the Swiss girl who came with us and whose name I didn't get talked to Dino about drunk people. And banks. Or something.
I also learned the correct way to nail together corrugated metal sheets to make a roof, and what layers of stuff go underneath it. I now have one useful piece of knowledge.
On that note, I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow (gack-aahh-thud) to go back to Bahji. At least they're picking us up close to the hotel this time. And Bahji is really nice. Like, really nice. Like, totally.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
It Begins
I met a lot of people today. Mostly Baha'is, but not only. This morning after breakfast I met four other people staying at the hotel who were heading up to the Pilgrim Reception Centre to register and all. They were waiting outside for a cab called by Rachel, the owner of the Port Inn. She had somehow forgotten since yesterday that I was also going on pilgrimage.
A quick discussion led to the conclusion that we couldn't all fit in the cab, so I said I would take the subway, which was what I had planned to do anyway. Rachel apologized and frantically explained to me how to get there and how much it was and so on. Then she made me show her St. John's on their wall map. It already had a pin from there - and a ton of other places.
The public transportation was on strike this morning. Shortest strike ever. I don't know what time it started, but it was over at 10. Metrobus should've done something like that: shut down at peak times and run when most people don't need its services. Very effective. Maybe. Haifa will find out in the near future.
The subway is also the shortest of its kind, especially for the size of the city. It has six stops, which it travels in about five minutes each way. The city of Haifa is 63.7 square kilometers, according to our friends and enemies at Wikipedia, so the subway covers the equivalent of the city's big toe. Up and down the mountain, and that is all.
Since it was 10 o'clock and the subway was just kicking back to life, people were frenetically buying tickets. I changed my 100 shekel bill into ten 10-shekel pieces, bought a single ticket for 6.40 and missed the subway by one second. It was pulling out just as I was stepping onto the platform. A man in the same boat struck up a conversation with me. He turned out to be a musician and piano teacher from Nazareth ("You know? It's Jesus city!"). He gave me his card and told me to look him up on Youtube, which I did when I got home, but I'm not at that part of the story yet. But you can listen now, if you really have to.
Khalil was on his way to Carmel Hospital to visit his mother who had some sort of airway obstruction, from what I could understand. He said the doctors were in the process of deciding whether to cut into her neck or into her abdomen. Fun times.
At my stop (Masada), I got out and realized immediately that I had no clue how to get to the Pilgrim Reception House, in spite of Rachel's directions. The lady in the fluorescent jacket looked like she might know something, and she kindly pointed the way. I asked two or three other people and managed to find the place, but only through a very circuitous route. It turns out the PRC is unmarked, so nobody knew what it was and they were actually directing me to the entrance to the garden. When I got there, the guy at the gate was scanning some visitors with a handheld metal detector. More security. So disheartening.
He was very friendly and helpful, though, and he welcomed me warmly with an "Allah-u-abha" once he realized I was coming for pilgrimage. He pointed me down the street to the PRC, and I got all registered and bought emergency health insurance. It's not absolutely required, but it's very strongly recommended, and I figured if I get malaria or get run over, it'd be good to have options. It was also relatively cheap for the nine days.
As I was waiting to watch the insurance info video, a lady with her own radio show and I started talking about racism and how genetically it makes no sense. I said that people in sub-Saharan Africa are more genetically diverse than the rest of the world put together (true story), and she said she would like to get some quotes from me for her show. Second interview proposition since I got here. Man. I didn't know I was going to be so popular!
Upon registering, we were given our group (I'm in H) and the schedule for the first day. Then we got some informative booklets and a full schedule for the rest of the pilgrimage. We were free to do as we liked until 2:30, when we would reassemble for an orientation and the first visit to the Shrine of the Bab.
I hung out with a mother and daughter from the Philippines, and another younger woman from Macau, who was surprised at the lack of Asians in the crowd. I hadn't really noticed, but she had a good point. It could just be chance, but who knows.
The girl from Macau and I wanted to get some lunch, but we had to walk down the mountain to do so, and the older woman didn't feel up to it, so we found a grocery store and bought some yogurt drinks. Then we went back to the PRC and ate crackers and very watery macaroni with no flavour. Not the best meal, but no one really cared. The conversation was alright, and it was interesting to hear about what is going on in other parts of the world.
I went for a short walk up to the garden where the Pilgrim House is. I can't believe people used to stay there when they went on pilgrimage. Lucky them. It's right beside the Shrine and right smack in the middle of the terraces. Logically, since it's behind the Shrine and the Shrine's in the middle. Yeah.
I didn't go in the house, because I wasn't sure if it was open. I headed back to the PRC and petted the cat that was hanging around. Smart cat. It knows all the Baha'is will feed it.
Before orientation I talked to a couple with two kids, from California but now living in Arizona. It was the woman's first time out of the US. We talked about the Omnibus Crime Bill and whether or not Canada is better than the US (he asked for my views on the subject), as well as the effectiveness or not of the war on drugs. Then we went to the Internation Teaching Centre (ITC) for the orientation.
It was presented in DVD form. We were asked not to record video or audio of any of the talks or presentations at the ITC. I still haven't figured out the reason for that; I'm sure it's valid but I don't see it. I'll ask someone tomorrow, maybe.
After that, we filed out through the Monument Gardens, where the administrative buildings stand in an arc. We found our way to the garden where the Shrine is, and then we had two members of the ITC welcome us. One chanted the Bab's tablet of visitation in Farsi or Arabic (not sure), and then the other recited 'Abdu'l-Baha's tablet of visitation in English. Then we slowly and silently circumambulated the Shrine and returned to the Pilgrim House.
I felt a lot of things as we walked around the Shrine. But after a bathroom break in the Pilgrim House, when I returned and actually went inside first the Bab's and then 'Abdu'l-Baha's shrine, I had a different kind of experience. It's hard to explain or even describe it at this point, so I'll have to get back to you on this one.
I will say this though: I was surprised by how the shrines looked on the inside. Not at all how I'd been picturing it my whole life. And I found the much smaller, more fragrant, and dimmer room where 'Abdu'l-Baha is buried somehow more approachable and relatable. The Bab's was too bright and ornamented. Or something. Like I said, it's hard to explain at this point.
I walked home by the road, and it didn't take nearly as long as I'd expected. I was back in about half an hour, and some of that time was spent deciphering a French poem/plea/ode/paragraph written in large blue and white tiles with no spaces between words, on the wall of the Arab Jewish Centre, ostensibly a place for peace and an end to the conflicts in this region.
Once back at the hotel, I heated up some leftovers and chatted with Julie and Astrid, and Julie's non-Baha'i nephew Eric who is also doing the pilgrimage. We shared our food with each other (yay hummus!) and planned for the morning, which begins at 8am. Grossness. Oh well. It'll be worth it, I'm sure.
There's a presentation at the ITC in the evening, as well as an open mic night down the street from here which I may check out afterwards. We also get to meet the members of the Universal House of Justice (basically the globally elected administrators of the Baha'i Faith).
I realize there are a lot of names in here that might not mean much to some of you, so just ask if you want to know. Or ask the internet oracle, but beware of its wiles. Sometimes it lies.
A quick discussion led to the conclusion that we couldn't all fit in the cab, so I said I would take the subway, which was what I had planned to do anyway. Rachel apologized and frantically explained to me how to get there and how much it was and so on. Then she made me show her St. John's on their wall map. It already had a pin from there - and a ton of other places.
The public transportation was on strike this morning. Shortest strike ever. I don't know what time it started, but it was over at 10. Metrobus should've done something like that: shut down at peak times and run when most people don't need its services. Very effective. Maybe. Haifa will find out in the near future.
The subway is also the shortest of its kind, especially for the size of the city. It has six stops, which it travels in about five minutes each way. The city of Haifa is 63.7 square kilometers, according to our friends and enemies at Wikipedia, so the subway covers the equivalent of the city's big toe. Up and down the mountain, and that is all.
Since it was 10 o'clock and the subway was just kicking back to life, people were frenetically buying tickets. I changed my 100 shekel bill into ten 10-shekel pieces, bought a single ticket for 6.40 and missed the subway by one second. It was pulling out just as I was stepping onto the platform. A man in the same boat struck up a conversation with me. He turned out to be a musician and piano teacher from Nazareth ("You know? It's Jesus city!"). He gave me his card and told me to look him up on Youtube, which I did when I got home, but I'm not at that part of the story yet. But you can listen now, if you really have to.
Khalil was on his way to Carmel Hospital to visit his mother who had some sort of airway obstruction, from what I could understand. He said the doctors were in the process of deciding whether to cut into her neck or into her abdomen. Fun times.
At my stop (Masada), I got out and realized immediately that I had no clue how to get to the Pilgrim Reception House, in spite of Rachel's directions. The lady in the fluorescent jacket looked like she might know something, and she kindly pointed the way. I asked two or three other people and managed to find the place, but only through a very circuitous route. It turns out the PRC is unmarked, so nobody knew what it was and they were actually directing me to the entrance to the garden. When I got there, the guy at the gate was scanning some visitors with a handheld metal detector. More security. So disheartening.
He was very friendly and helpful, though, and he welcomed me warmly with an "Allah-u-abha" once he realized I was coming for pilgrimage. He pointed me down the street to the PRC, and I got all registered and bought emergency health insurance. It's not absolutely required, but it's very strongly recommended, and I figured if I get malaria or get run over, it'd be good to have options. It was also relatively cheap for the nine days.
As I was waiting to watch the insurance info video, a lady with her own radio show and I started talking about racism and how genetically it makes no sense. I said that people in sub-Saharan Africa are more genetically diverse than the rest of the world put together (true story), and she said she would like to get some quotes from me for her show. Second interview proposition since I got here. Man. I didn't know I was going to be so popular!
Upon registering, we were given our group (I'm in H) and the schedule for the first day. Then we got some informative booklets and a full schedule for the rest of the pilgrimage. We were free to do as we liked until 2:30, when we would reassemble for an orientation and the first visit to the Shrine of the Bab.
I hung out with a mother and daughter from the Philippines, and another younger woman from Macau, who was surprised at the lack of Asians in the crowd. I hadn't really noticed, but she had a good point. It could just be chance, but who knows.
The girl from Macau and I wanted to get some lunch, but we had to walk down the mountain to do so, and the older woman didn't feel up to it, so we found a grocery store and bought some yogurt drinks. Then we went back to the PRC and ate crackers and very watery macaroni with no flavour. Not the best meal, but no one really cared. The conversation was alright, and it was interesting to hear about what is going on in other parts of the world.
I went for a short walk up to the garden where the Pilgrim House is. I can't believe people used to stay there when they went on pilgrimage. Lucky them. It's right beside the Shrine and right smack in the middle of the terraces. Logically, since it's behind the Shrine and the Shrine's in the middle. Yeah.
I didn't go in the house, because I wasn't sure if it was open. I headed back to the PRC and petted the cat that was hanging around. Smart cat. It knows all the Baha'is will feed it.
Before orientation I talked to a couple with two kids, from California but now living in Arizona. It was the woman's first time out of the US. We talked about the Omnibus Crime Bill and whether or not Canada is better than the US (he asked for my views on the subject), as well as the effectiveness or not of the war on drugs. Then we went to the Internation Teaching Centre (ITC) for the orientation.
It was presented in DVD form. We were asked not to record video or audio of any of the talks or presentations at the ITC. I still haven't figured out the reason for that; I'm sure it's valid but I don't see it. I'll ask someone tomorrow, maybe.
After that, we filed out through the Monument Gardens, where the administrative buildings stand in an arc. We found our way to the garden where the Shrine is, and then we had two members of the ITC welcome us. One chanted the Bab's tablet of visitation in Farsi or Arabic (not sure), and then the other recited 'Abdu'l-Baha's tablet of visitation in English. Then we slowly and silently circumambulated the Shrine and returned to the Pilgrim House.
I felt a lot of things as we walked around the Shrine. But after a bathroom break in the Pilgrim House, when I returned and actually went inside first the Bab's and then 'Abdu'l-Baha's shrine, I had a different kind of experience. It's hard to explain or even describe it at this point, so I'll have to get back to you on this one.
I will say this though: I was surprised by how the shrines looked on the inside. Not at all how I'd been picturing it my whole life. And I found the much smaller, more fragrant, and dimmer room where 'Abdu'l-Baha is buried somehow more approachable and relatable. The Bab's was too bright and ornamented. Or something. Like I said, it's hard to explain at this point.
I walked home by the road, and it didn't take nearly as long as I'd expected. I was back in about half an hour, and some of that time was spent deciphering a French poem/plea/ode/paragraph written in large blue and white tiles with no spaces between words, on the wall of the Arab Jewish Centre, ostensibly a place for peace and an end to the conflicts in this region.
Once back at the hotel, I heated up some leftovers and chatted with Julie and Astrid, and Julie's non-Baha'i nephew Eric who is also doing the pilgrimage. We shared our food with each other (yay hummus!) and planned for the morning, which begins at 8am. Grossness. Oh well. It'll be worth it, I'm sure.
There's a presentation at the ITC in the evening, as well as an open mic night down the street from here which I may check out afterwards. We also get to meet the members of the Universal House of Justice (basically the globally elected administrators of the Baha'i Faith).
I realize there are a lot of names in here that might not mean much to some of you, so just ask if you want to know. Or ask the internet oracle, but beware of its wiles. Sometimes it lies.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Dining and Dashing in Haifa
Tonight I left a restaurant without paying. I tried really hard, I promise. I went with an actor girl I met here from Kansas (currently volunteering in Palestine) and the waitress kept asking us if we wanted anything else. After about the fifth time of this, Abby (the actor girl) asked for the bill. The waitress went off, and then about half an hour later, she came and asked us if we wanted anything else. Again.
Eventually, we gave up. I figured if we started to leave, they'd nab us in a second, but even standing by the door didn't get their attention. So finally we just left. I feel kind of bad, but seriously, it shouldn't be that hard to give someone your money.
Other than that, today was mostly uneventful. I mostly stayed at the hostel, although I did venture out in the morning. I was thinking of going to Elijah's cave (yes, that Elijah) or the monastery, or even the Arab market. I also considered walking up the terraces but figured I'd save that for a day when I'm actually there anyway. I wanted to go to the surfer beach too. I ended up doing nothing. I walked around a little, sat down and wrote in my journal (thanks, Mom) and then went and got my US dollars changed into shekels. I got disoriented heading back to the hostel, because I thought it was closer than it was, but I found it again and then I came inside and worked on my bibliographic essay.
Don't judge me. I still have school when I get back, okay?
I stayed out in the courtyard for a while because it was warm and nice, but then my laptop battery started to die so I went up to the dorm. Someone new arrived to replace some of the girls who left, and I started chatting with her. She told me her name was Adriane, she was from Geneva and that she spoke French, so we chatted in French. I need to practice. She's a photographer/independent filmmaker, and she's doing research on religious gesture, so when I told her I was doing a Baha'i pilgrimage, she wanted to interview me about the Baha'i Faith. She knew virtually nothing about it. I agreed before thinking it through, and she went off in search of food. A few hours later, I was just about to venture out again, in search of food myself, when she asked if I wanted to do the interview now. I agreed again, and we went up to the dorm. Adriane asked the receptionist if we could use the kitchen where breakfast was served (good breakfast too), but she refused, so we tried the dorm.
After much fiddling around with her new camera and sound capture device that looked like a taser, we got set up. A girl came in a couple times, so we had to cut it off, but overall, it went okay, I think. It is hard to say at this point.
I left some of my Spinoza Gambit manager cards at the reception, so Jason may get a following from Israel. Or not, since none of the guests I've spoken too are Israeli.
Abby turned out to be Jewish though, so if she wanted to she could become an Israeli citizen. I started talking to her after I bought some groceries and made myself food, because she was the one who came in during the interview. I also spoke to a retired couple from Arrington, BC (grass roof and goats, if you've been there). They hadn't heard about the Occupy movement because they've been traveling for seven weeks, so I filled them in. We also talked about electoral reform, Stephen Harper, Elizabeth May, and Newfoundland hospitality, which was rated highly right up with Arab and Irish. I talked to a man from Amsterdam as well, who has been living in various parts of Israel for a couple years.
Another girl going on pilgrimage arrived tonight too, Astrid from Ireland. She was super tired, so she didn't come out with Abby and me. I s'pose I'll talk to her more tomorrow. There's supposed to be a third person here going on pilgrimage as well, so it must be a guy or someone with a separate room.
Abby's views on Israel and Palestine were very interesting, especially her first-hand stories about life in Palestine and Gaza. She told me how she got in an argument with a Zionist lady who professed to believe that Arabs kill people as martyrs and then eat their livers.
Which reminds me. There are a lot of Arabs here, more than I was expecting. According to Amsterdam dude and Abby, Haifa is in a very peaceful region where the Jews and the Arabs get along quite well. In other areas, especially Jerusalem, the tension is much more palpable, especially since the Jewish authorites decided to expand the Jewish quarter in that city. They ordered the Arabs to demolish their own houses, or otherwise they could pay the authorities to get the job done. Ergo, tension.
I'm going to bed now. I got home much later than I expected or wanted to, what with waiting for the bill and all. It was alright though. Abby was pleasant to talk to and she had a lot of interesting experiences to share. Plus her minor is in archeology, so we had at least a few similar interests.
Oh, one more thing. Sunday is like Monday here, because the weekend runs Friday and Saturday, instead of Saturday and Sunday. So that's kind of cool, to be in a place with a different take on the calendar. I mean, it's not so different, but still. It's interesting to me and it reconfirms my belief that nothing is real; we live in a socially constructed world with socially constructed meaning ascribed to everything. Liberating and frustrating at the same time, innit.
Good night everyone and Eid Mubarak to all my Muslim friends! (If you don't know what Eid is, look it up. It's a pretty cool holiday.)
Eventually, we gave up. I figured if we started to leave, they'd nab us in a second, but even standing by the door didn't get their attention. So finally we just left. I feel kind of bad, but seriously, it shouldn't be that hard to give someone your money.
Other than that, today was mostly uneventful. I mostly stayed at the hostel, although I did venture out in the morning. I was thinking of going to Elijah's cave (yes, that Elijah) or the monastery, or even the Arab market. I also considered walking up the terraces but figured I'd save that for a day when I'm actually there anyway. I wanted to go to the surfer beach too. I ended up doing nothing. I walked around a little, sat down and wrote in my journal (thanks, Mom) and then went and got my US dollars changed into shekels. I got disoriented heading back to the hostel, because I thought it was closer than it was, but I found it again and then I came inside and worked on my bibliographic essay.
Don't judge me. I still have school when I get back, okay?
I stayed out in the courtyard for a while because it was warm and nice, but then my laptop battery started to die so I went up to the dorm. Someone new arrived to replace some of the girls who left, and I started chatting with her. She told me her name was Adriane, she was from Geneva and that she spoke French, so we chatted in French. I need to practice. She's a photographer/independent filmmaker, and she's doing research on religious gesture, so when I told her I was doing a Baha'i pilgrimage, she wanted to interview me about the Baha'i Faith. She knew virtually nothing about it. I agreed before thinking it through, and she went off in search of food. A few hours later, I was just about to venture out again, in search of food myself, when she asked if I wanted to do the interview now. I agreed again, and we went up to the dorm. Adriane asked the receptionist if we could use the kitchen where breakfast was served (good breakfast too), but she refused, so we tried the dorm.
After much fiddling around with her new camera and sound capture device that looked like a taser, we got set up. A girl came in a couple times, so we had to cut it off, but overall, it went okay, I think. It is hard to say at this point.
I left some of my Spinoza Gambit manager cards at the reception, so Jason may get a following from Israel. Or not, since none of the guests I've spoken too are Israeli.
Abby turned out to be Jewish though, so if she wanted to she could become an Israeli citizen. I started talking to her after I bought some groceries and made myself food, because she was the one who came in during the interview. I also spoke to a retired couple from Arrington, BC (grass roof and goats, if you've been there). They hadn't heard about the Occupy movement because they've been traveling for seven weeks, so I filled them in. We also talked about electoral reform, Stephen Harper, Elizabeth May, and Newfoundland hospitality, which was rated highly right up with Arab and Irish. I talked to a man from Amsterdam as well, who has been living in various parts of Israel for a couple years.
Another girl going on pilgrimage arrived tonight too, Astrid from Ireland. She was super tired, so she didn't come out with Abby and me. I s'pose I'll talk to her more tomorrow. There's supposed to be a third person here going on pilgrimage as well, so it must be a guy or someone with a separate room.
Abby's views on Israel and Palestine were very interesting, especially her first-hand stories about life in Palestine and Gaza. She told me how she got in an argument with a Zionist lady who professed to believe that Arabs kill people as martyrs and then eat their livers.
Which reminds me. There are a lot of Arabs here, more than I was expecting. According to Amsterdam dude and Abby, Haifa is in a very peaceful region where the Jews and the Arabs get along quite well. In other areas, especially Jerusalem, the tension is much more palpable, especially since the Jewish authorites decided to expand the Jewish quarter in that city. They ordered the Arabs to demolish their own houses, or otherwise they could pay the authorities to get the job done. Ergo, tension.
I'm going to bed now. I got home much later than I expected or wanted to, what with waiting for the bill and all. It was alright though. Abby was pleasant to talk to and she had a lot of interesting experiences to share. Plus her minor is in archeology, so we had at least a few similar interests.
Oh, one more thing. Sunday is like Monday here, because the weekend runs Friday and Saturday, instead of Saturday and Sunday. So that's kind of cool, to be in a place with a different take on the calendar. I mean, it's not so different, but still. It's interesting to me and it reconfirms my belief that nothing is real; we live in a socially constructed world with socially constructed meaning ascribed to everything. Liberating and frustrating at the same time, innit.
Good night everyone and Eid Mubarak to all my Muslim friends! (If you don't know what Eid is, look it up. It's a pretty cool holiday.)
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Sore Feet and Sunshine
I've made it to my hotel in Israel safe and sound. On my way into Haifa this evening, I caught my first real-life glimpse of the terraces and the shrine and they were all lit up and it was as beautiful as in the pictures!
I've hardly slept since yesterday morning. My plane trip was surprisingly undramatic, in spite of multiple security obstacle courses designed to prevent the faint of heart from traveling to the Middle East. Or some other group. Not too sure.
At Toronto, I had to go through another gate into an even more secure area, where the woman advised me the doesn't "make money to chat, sweetheart." Sorry for asking about the brace on your wrist...
Then my gate was in a separate glassed-in room with barriers across the entrance. When they finally opened it, they checked passports, boarding passes, and luggage once again. They also swabbed my palms and the top of my bag with some kind of funky device. That's what they should do in kindergarten: "Did you wash your hands?" "Yes!" "Let's find out" *swab swab*.
Anyway, so that was all well and good. At last, we were on our way (both flights were jam packed; I had to sit in the seat reserved for crew on the first one). The guy beside me on the way to Tel Aviv was super shy but super nice. He gave me his blanket while I was sleeping (guess I looked cold), but he never said a word the whole time. When I tried to engage him when I first got on the plane, he just sort of grunted and shrank a bit. I didn't talk to him again because I didn't want to make him disappear entirely.
Once we hit Israeli airspace, nobody was allowed to get out of their seats. More security. On my way into the airport in Tel Aviv, a security agent randomly stopped me and asked my why I was here, who I was travelling with, and so on. Then at customs, I found out the Israeli government has a list of all the Baha'is invited on pilgrimage and the dates of their stay. Makes it easier all around, I guess.
I spent the day in Tel Aviv, which was kind of a mistake but worth it, now that I'm actually settled in. I could've taken a sherut (a sort of group taxi/shuttle service) directly from Ben Gurion into Haifa, but opted to try to find the Occupy people instead. I took a cab into town (a bit pricey) because public transportation was not running today, it being a Saturday, and Saturday being the Jewish sabbath and all.
It turned out the Occupy Israel people took down their tents a couple of weeks ago, for whatever reason, but they still communicate and protest and organize stuff. You just have to know where to find out what's going on when. Needless to say, I did not know where to find out, so I never found them. So that was too bad.
Instead, I lounged on the beach in 23 degree sunshine. It was awesome. The beach sand was soft and felt like a massage on my bare feet, and the water was warm enough for wading, although swimming was prohibited. I think they built the rock breaker strips (what are they called again?) to stop people from drowning. I climbed up on some of the breakers and got soaked in spots by the waves crashing against them. They were much more powerful up close than they looked like from the shore.
Then I saw some sort of dance group, although they weren't in costume or even that synchronized. I'm not sure what it was all about, since the sign was in Hebrew, but it was kind of cool. They were dressed in their normal clothes and seemed to represent all walks of life, ages, styles, and other variations of humanity. I took a short video, which you can watch below. Quality is poor and someone's arm is trying to steal the show.
I thought it was going to rain, because the sky was crackling and booming with blackness floating in disguised as clouds. So instead of continuing up the coastline towards the old Tel Aviv port, I headed for the train station, even though I knew the trains didn't run until 8 pm. I figured I could sit in there, do some reading, maybe even use their wireless connection if they had one.
But when I got there, after a couple hours of walking through the city (pictures forthcoming), it was all shut up and I saw that to even get into the building, you had to pass through a scanner, as did any bags you were carrying. The door was locked anyway, so I wandered around some more.
I found a park, where I took a brief nap, then wandered some more, took another brief nap at a now defunct and slimy but otherwise cool fountain in the House of Europe Square. The House of America was beside it too. I'm not sure what they were, but they looked very artsy.
There's a lot of modern art around town, and the architecture is interesting too. The vegetation reminds me somewhat of Cotonou, as do the buildings, with their large communal courtyards and unpainted squareness.
Also, there are cats everywhere. Strays, as far as I can tell, and I mean everywhere.
If I were an anthropologist typing up my fieldnotes right now, I would remark on the following: outside a lot of houses, people had left items on or in front of the low wall, as if for other people to take. Here there was a blue button-up men's shirt, there a pair of shoes, at another place, a couch, and somewhere else some unopened bottles of some sort of drink. I don't know what the significance of this is, how often it occurs (on the Sabbath? once a month? every day? randomly?), and what happens to the objects, but it was certainly intriguing. If anyone knows, please enlighten me.
Weary and bleary-eyed, I finally made it back to the train station, and set off for Haifa. I got off at the earlier Haifa stop, instead of the one right by the hotel, so I took another cab right to the door. They put me in their registration as wanting a male dorm, even though I'd clearly marked "female" on the form. The receptionist even double-checked. Luckily, there was a bed available in the girls' dorm so I'm all squared away, as it were. I just need to get some food tomorrow, and change over some coins into shekels.
I've hardly slept since yesterday morning. My plane trip was surprisingly undramatic, in spite of multiple security obstacle courses designed to prevent the faint of heart from traveling to the Middle East. Or some other group. Not too sure.
At Toronto, I had to go through another gate into an even more secure area, where the woman advised me the doesn't "make money to chat, sweetheart." Sorry for asking about the brace on your wrist...
Then my gate was in a separate glassed-in room with barriers across the entrance. When they finally opened it, they checked passports, boarding passes, and luggage once again. They also swabbed my palms and the top of my bag with some kind of funky device. That's what they should do in kindergarten: "Did you wash your hands?" "Yes!" "Let's find out" *swab swab*.
Anyway, so that was all well and good. At last, we were on our way (both flights were jam packed; I had to sit in the seat reserved for crew on the first one). The guy beside me on the way to Tel Aviv was super shy but super nice. He gave me his blanket while I was sleeping (guess I looked cold), but he never said a word the whole time. When I tried to engage him when I first got on the plane, he just sort of grunted and shrank a bit. I didn't talk to him again because I didn't want to make him disappear entirely.
Once we hit Israeli airspace, nobody was allowed to get out of their seats. More security. On my way into the airport in Tel Aviv, a security agent randomly stopped me and asked my why I was here, who I was travelling with, and so on. Then at customs, I found out the Israeli government has a list of all the Baha'is invited on pilgrimage and the dates of their stay. Makes it easier all around, I guess.
I spent the day in Tel Aviv, which was kind of a mistake but worth it, now that I'm actually settled in. I could've taken a sherut (a sort of group taxi/shuttle service) directly from Ben Gurion into Haifa, but opted to try to find the Occupy people instead. I took a cab into town (a bit pricey) because public transportation was not running today, it being a Saturday, and Saturday being the Jewish sabbath and all.
It turned out the Occupy Israel people took down their tents a couple of weeks ago, for whatever reason, but they still communicate and protest and organize stuff. You just have to know where to find out what's going on when. Needless to say, I did not know where to find out, so I never found them. So that was too bad.
Instead, I lounged on the beach in 23 degree sunshine. It was awesome. The beach sand was soft and felt like a massage on my bare feet, and the water was warm enough for wading, although swimming was prohibited. I think they built the rock breaker strips (what are they called again?) to stop people from drowning. I climbed up on some of the breakers and got soaked in spots by the waves crashing against them. They were much more powerful up close than they looked like from the shore.
Then I saw some sort of dance group, although they weren't in costume or even that synchronized. I'm not sure what it was all about, since the sign was in Hebrew, but it was kind of cool. They were dressed in their normal clothes and seemed to represent all walks of life, ages, styles, and other variations of humanity. I took a short video, which you can watch below. Quality is poor and someone's arm is trying to steal the show.
I thought it was going to rain, because the sky was crackling and booming with blackness floating in disguised as clouds. So instead of continuing up the coastline towards the old Tel Aviv port, I headed for the train station, even though I knew the trains didn't run until 8 pm. I figured I could sit in there, do some reading, maybe even use their wireless connection if they had one.
But when I got there, after a couple hours of walking through the city (pictures forthcoming), it was all shut up and I saw that to even get into the building, you had to pass through a scanner, as did any bags you were carrying. The door was locked anyway, so I wandered around some more.
I found a park, where I took a brief nap, then wandered some more, took another brief nap at a now defunct and slimy but otherwise cool fountain in the House of Europe Square. The House of America was beside it too. I'm not sure what they were, but they looked very artsy.
There's a lot of modern art around town, and the architecture is interesting too. The vegetation reminds me somewhat of Cotonou, as do the buildings, with their large communal courtyards and unpainted squareness.
Also, there are cats everywhere. Strays, as far as I can tell, and I mean everywhere.
If I were an anthropologist typing up my fieldnotes right now, I would remark on the following: outside a lot of houses, people had left items on or in front of the low wall, as if for other people to take. Here there was a blue button-up men's shirt, there a pair of shoes, at another place, a couch, and somewhere else some unopened bottles of some sort of drink. I don't know what the significance of this is, how often it occurs (on the Sabbath? once a month? every day? randomly?), and what happens to the objects, but it was certainly intriguing. If anyone knows, please enlighten me.
Weary and bleary-eyed, I finally made it back to the train station, and set off for Haifa. I got off at the earlier Haifa stop, instead of the one right by the hotel, so I took another cab right to the door. They put me in their registration as wanting a male dorm, even though I'd clearly marked "female" on the form. The receptionist even double-checked. Luckily, there was a bed available in the girls' dorm so I'm all squared away, as it were. I just need to get some food tomorrow, and change over some coins into shekels.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Dark Water Swallows Me Into the Rising Tide
History repeats itself.
I don't fit.
I reached my tolerance threshold. I couldn't breathe.
It was a relief.
I feel like I should apologize, but I have nothing to apologize for. I'm afraid I might have hurt your feelings. I'm sorry if I did. It wasn't intentional.
It makes me sad, and there's only so much sadness I can handle. It makes me depressed about life. I don't like being depressed about life.
It's never been a judgment or a condemnation. It's a suffocation. And the sadness.
Always the sadness.
If I didn't care, I wouldn't feel sad.
And the shit hits the fan.
I'm good at saying I'm fine when I'm really not, but it seems impossible to explain. And it usually makes things worse. I regret it.
It's better this way.
I'm not fine. But I will be. It's just the same old shit. Someday, I'll get used to it.
But now I'm wallowing in it. Damn.
I don't fit.
I reached my tolerance threshold. I couldn't breathe.
It was a relief.
I feel like I should apologize, but I have nothing to apologize for. I'm afraid I might have hurt your feelings. I'm sorry if I did. It wasn't intentional.
It makes me sad, and there's only so much sadness I can handle. It makes me depressed about life. I don't like being depressed about life.
It's never been a judgment or a condemnation. It's a suffocation. And the sadness.
Always the sadness.
If I didn't care, I wouldn't feel sad.
And the shit hits the fan.
I'm good at saying I'm fine when I'm really not, but it seems impossible to explain. And it usually makes things worse. I regret it.
It's better this way.
I'm not fine. But I will be. It's just the same old shit. Someday, I'll get used to it.
But now I'm wallowing in it. Damn.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Reply
You get inspired by the dedication of creative people who struggle through the hard times, work dead-end jobs, and give up basic pleasures in order to pursue their first love.
You watch as they suffer, as they fade then strike back, as they reject the possibility of rejection. You see them give up and rebound.
Sometimes you are lucky enough to walk beside one of these people. You share in their struggle; you push them forward. You try to keep them on the dark road they are forced to follow because if they fall by the wayside, the world will lose their gifts - and they will lose themselves. You pull them away from the beckoning lights of mediocrity, of a well-paying 9 to 5 job in a career where they could pass for average, but which will taint the artist they really are, sometimes irreversibly.
Sometimes you stand back and let them stumble, because you know they have the strength to build themselves back up again; if you hold their hand, you will have to carry them. You will destroy their essence. Artists carry themselves. They do not rely on others to support them in their work - at some point, they must acknowledge their own innate power. This is step one. Without this knowledge, there will be no success. There will be no art, only jot notes and shadows.
The rest is self-explanatory. Eventually, and repeatedly, the artist recognizes that they cannot escape their calling (their addiction). They draw up the strength to persevere, to chase the mirage. It's their blessing and their curse, with explosions of creative highs and black holes of disappointment. It's their lifeblood, the reason their heart beats, and also the reason they curse and cry.
The world starts to take notice. For that brief moment when you are lucky enough to stand by their side, you get a glimpse of why we are here.
You get inspired...
You watch as they suffer, as they fade then strike back, as they reject the possibility of rejection. You see them give up and rebound.
Sometimes you are lucky enough to walk beside one of these people. You share in their struggle; you push them forward. You try to keep them on the dark road they are forced to follow because if they fall by the wayside, the world will lose their gifts - and they will lose themselves. You pull them away from the beckoning lights of mediocrity, of a well-paying 9 to 5 job in a career where they could pass for average, but which will taint the artist they really are, sometimes irreversibly.
Sometimes you stand back and let them stumble, because you know they have the strength to build themselves back up again; if you hold their hand, you will have to carry them. You will destroy their essence. Artists carry themselves. They do not rely on others to support them in their work - at some point, they must acknowledge their own innate power. This is step one. Without this knowledge, there will be no success. There will be no art, only jot notes and shadows.
The rest is self-explanatory. Eventually, and repeatedly, the artist recognizes that they cannot escape their calling (their addiction). They draw up the strength to persevere, to chase the mirage. It's their blessing and their curse, with explosions of creative highs and black holes of disappointment. It's their lifeblood, the reason their heart beats, and also the reason they curse and cry.
The world starts to take notice. For that brief moment when you are lucky enough to stand by their side, you get a glimpse of why we are here.
You get inspired...
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Life Is Good
I realized since my last post that it's not my musical abilities that have diminished; it's my perception of them that has changed. I wrote some decent stuff even a few years ago, when I wasn't so concerned with the result. It comes down to confidence in the end, I guess.
I love my writers group and every person in it. It's definitely the highlight of my week. I'm going to miss it when I go to PEI and Gros Morne, although I'm sure the trip will help me fight my withdrawal. It's going to be cool to finally see some more of Newfoundland. I can't believe I've been here for five years and haven't been past Spread Eagle! Now, I have been to Labrador...
Life has been pretty good since I got back from Vancouver. Lots of new friends and some old ones that I've gotten to know better. Vancouver changed me in good ways, even though overall it wasn't the best experience for me. Or maybe because of that. Definitely because of that.
This weekend has been amazing too. I really don't want to go back to work tomorrow!
I love my writers group and every person in it. It's definitely the highlight of my week. I'm going to miss it when I go to PEI and Gros Morne, although I'm sure the trip will help me fight my withdrawal. It's going to be cool to finally see some more of Newfoundland. I can't believe I've been here for five years and haven't been past Spread Eagle! Now, I have been to Labrador...
Life has been pretty good since I got back from Vancouver. Lots of new friends and some old ones that I've gotten to know better. Vancouver changed me in good ways, even though overall it wasn't the best experience for me. Or maybe because of that. Definitely because of that.
This weekend has been amazing too. I really don't want to go back to work tomorrow!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)