The Mossad "Allegedly" Gets Their Man

Imad Mughniyeh, arch terrorist and a zealot who helped to found Hizballah in the early 80's was blown straight to hell Monday night in a car bombing in Damascus. My condolences to his loved ones. Predictably enough, the Mossad has refused to accept credit for the assassination, but they are still high fiving each other up front and behind the back. Knesset member and former head of Mossad Danny Yatom had this to say about the assassination: ""Mughniyah was one of the most dangerous and cruel terrorists of all time. There are numerous intelligence agencies and countries that have been pursuing him, and the one that was successful in reaching him [has proven itself] - to have a high intelligence and operational capability." I can almost picture him snickering as he said this, patting himself and his coworkers on the back for a job well done.

In a response just as predictable as Israel's, Hezballah, Hamas, Syria and Iran have pointed the finger squarely at Israel and issued their tired, stereotyped responses to the "Zionist crimes" and swore bloody revenge. Maintaining their strict policy of tight lipped plausible deniability, the office of the Prime Minister released this statement: “Israel rejects the attempt by terrorist elements to ascribe to it any involvement whatsoever in this incident.” I'm not entirely certain, but I believe that this statement, when translated into Farsi reads "fuck ya'll!!!!!!"

Pitchers And Catchers Report

Every religion has their festivals, many of which are long and unnecesarily drawn out. Jews have 8 long days of cholesterol and matza induced constipation. Christians get 6 weeks of bad music and bogus "War on Christmas" stories on Fox News. Muslims have the pleasure of skipping lunch for an entire month. For Cubs fans, the protracted holiday season begins today: pitchers and catchers have reported to Mesa! Glory, glory hallelujah!

Of course today is ultimately little more than an embellished landmark on the road from the darkness of the offseason to the sublimity of baseball's rebirth. If opening day is Christmas, than today is a mere Black Friday. "But Eddie", you'll protest, "this is a broken analogy! Baseball isn't a religious experience!" Tell that to these whackos: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ib8s3Ozgccc

So today, on this the holiest day of the month of February, we pray that the baseball gods will deliver us swiftly to the regular season, devoid of any hot tub or fungo bat related injuries, and perhaps they will see fit to nominate a sucker to take Jason Marquis off our hands. Amen.

(I get the distinct impression I'll be atoning for this post on Yom Kippur.)

Haifus - Interruptus

Last night was supposed to be the long awaited rematch between Maccabi Haifa and Beitar Jerusalem, following this 0-0 debacle at Kiryat Eliezer stadium in early November. Omri and I joined a score of Israelis in the dorm moadon to watch the game. Everything started off the way I figured it would - fans cheering and taunting each other, players going for each others throats etc... Then without warning, the power at Tedy stadium in Jerusalem failed. The field and stands went dark and thousands of cell phones were immediately lit. At first the fans took this as a sign to up their baiting to deafening levels, but after it became apparent that the game wasn't going to start up again any time soon, everyone quieted down and just stood waiting. The power company tried to kick start the generator, but when black smoke started billowing out onto the field, they gave up. The game was canceled and will need to be rescheduled. In the meantime, this just reinforces in my mind that everything in Jerusalem is shitty and falling apart. אם אשכחך ירושלים תשכח ימיני... Riiiigggghhhhtttt.

Viva El Sábado

One of the things that often gets lost in the frenzy of living in the Jewish state is actual religious practice. For better or for worse, Judaism is primarily an ethnic identity for most Israelis as opposed to their religion. I like to contrast this with American Judaism, where Americans who identify with Judaism tend to find the religious aspects to be much more central to their self identification. One of the symptoms of this dichotomy for me is that I have become increasingly "חילוני" since I arrived in Israel, a term that describes the Israelis who live a secular lifestyle while still maintaining ties to Judaism through the lens of living and working in a Jewish society. Occasionally, it is nice to get back to my roots and participate in some good old fashioned prayer. Friday night, Ayelet, Nimrod and I made kiddush at her apartment. It was refreshing. Every now and then it is good for the soul. It was brief of course, and we left for "Shabbat" dinner at our friend Eli's apartment immediately after.

Eli (on the right) and Nimrod.

Eli's family made aliyah from Mexico City a number of years ago. Why is this relevant? We had a real Mexican meal on Friday night, the first Mexican food, real or imagined that I have tasted since coming to Israel 4 months ago! It was good too. He knows what he is doing in the kitchen. We had beef and chicken with real tortillas, along with salad, guacamole and salsa. There was also plenty of pork available as well as shredded cheese, but I let the other people at dinner dig in to the obviously not kosher options.

A frank discussion of napkins.

Dinner was a sordid affair. There was lots of heavy food, lots of red wine, and plenty of risque conversation. I got into a conversation with one guy over American foreign policy and our the hegemonic nature of our culture. We each put away about a bottle of wine, so the argument was fueled by Cabernet. Eventually we settled into a game of "never have I ever." There were plenty of embarrassing revelations, and dares that ranged from hilarious to vile and disgusting. Eli's roommate Itamar attempted to drink a raw egg on a dare. It ended up in the sink.

Things got a little nutty as the night progressed.

We had initially planned to head to a club from dinner, but after 4 hours at home, everyone was thinking pub instead. We headed to a pub I've never before been to that is at the base of the Carmel, near the German Colony. The name escapes me. The pub had an art theme so we spent a good deal of the rest of the night talking about art. It's not my strength, but it was cool to do nonetheless. We got back to campus around 3 A.M., and after another 45 minutes of guitar and singing, I finally admitted I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore and headed to bed. I woke up at 1:30 the following afternoon. Good deal!

Wrapping up the evening.

Carlesberg And Carlebach

Since my return to Haifa, I've spent most of my days putzing around and my nights meeting new international students and hanging out with my friends. Last night we had an event called Carlesberg and Carlebach, named for the Danish beer and the famous singing Rabbi, respectively. If you combined a USY event with a Jewish tent revival meeting with a frat party, that is how this event went down. Everyone had a great time, people were singing and playing with tambourines and a darbouka, and there were more than a couple of students who were a little bleary eyed by the time the event ended. Maybe its because they had at least a liter of beer for each person.

The singing mostly focused on the Kabbalat Shabbat service, my favorite service of the week because of the music. While not all the tunes we sang were Carlebach innovations, we focused on them and used his famous version of לך דודי. Every time I sing that song in a new situation, I am brought back to the Friday nights my mom and I would spend in the library at Ezra Habonim with all the old people singing the same song. It brought back some vivid memories from when I was younger.

I am relishing the opportunity to write shorter entries for a little while, as the Egypt blog entries took a lot of energy to compose. Just a little housekeeping note for everyone who is keeping score. I have now been accepted to the following law schools: University of Minnesota, University of Wisconsin, Loyola University Chicago, Chicago Kent School of Law, Depaul University, and Saint Louis University. I'm still waiting on a handful of other letters. Shabbat shalom.

Day 5 - Walk Like An Egyptian

We met Heba in the subway tunnel downtown at about 11 o'clock and began to walk north through the city. Our plan was to spend a few hours in the nearby suburb of Heliopolis. As is her style, Heba insisted on spoiling us yet again, and bought us a big tray of baklava to share along the way. We took a tram out to Heliopolis from the main train station downtown. This may have been the shittiest mode of public transportation we had seen yet in Egypt, and that is saying something!

Alex and Heba on the tram.

Heliopolis is an interesting place to visit but there isn't much there for a tourist to take in. The most exciting thing about the city is it's unique architectural style, naturally called "Heliopolis style." There are a number of interesting buildings in downtown, including the Baron's Place (the private home of the city's founder, built in the style of a Hindu temple), and the Basilica of Heliopolis. The most memorable part of our excursion had to have been a bit of black humor. Alex was complaining about the way the drivers in Egypt seemingly never take their hands off the horn (a valid complaint.) Heba responds that he should throw a stone through the window of a particularly obnoxious driver's car, and start up a so called "rush hour intifada." ZING.

The Heliopolis Basilica.

We took the tram back to downtown Cairo, and then the subway out to Giza for a surreal dinner at Heba's house. Heba lives in a 6th floor apartment with her mother and brother. The language barrier made communication difficult. It turns out that my Arabic is pretty terrible. I was able to tell Heba's mom that they had a beautiful home, and after dinner I complimented her on the food. The dinner was excellent, though it was the sort of high pressure experience I expected coming from a Jewish home. There were ten different dishes on the table, and as soon as we would finish something, more food appeared on our plates. Alex and I smiled and overate, though I would be remiss if I made it sound like I was unhappy with the whole arrangement. It was just too much food. After dinner we had coffee and conversation for a half hour, before saying our thank yous and goodbyes and heading back to the train. One of the things Heba and her mom kept repeating to us is that our thanks were totally unneccesary, as the hospitality they showed us is required by Arab culture and Islam. It's an interesting perspective, and one I've never heard before. Of course, our thanks are required by our American culture.

Chilling at Heba's flat in Giza.

Heba's brother walked us back towards the train, stearing us off momentarily to buy some Sahlab powder so that Alex could make it at home. As a final reminder that this was not some tourist trap, Alex had to yank me out of the way to keep from absentmindedly walking into a cow in the middle of the road. We said our final goodbyes, got on the train and reminisced about the experience and how very full we were all the way back downtown.

The Pyramids are very much a part of the skyline from their Giza home.

We got off at Mubarak station needing to transfer to the red line and go one additional stop to get back to our hotel. Rush hour in Cairo is madness, whether on the roads or in the subway tunnels. We had seen crowds crush into the subway cars before, but had never been a part of the crush until this last night. Alex and I were pushed onto the car by people behind us and had no choice but to pull our way on, into the most crowded subway car I have ever been. As the doors closed, Alex gasped: Part of his coat was caught in the doors and outside the car! It is a good thing that we were only going one stop and that the doors would be opening on the same side at Sadat station. We were unceremoniously pushed off the train by the same crowds that forced us on, and made our way for home. Not to be outdone, I had my own little Cairo moment a few minutes later, when I was clipped by a turning car while crossing the street. The bastard didn't even slow down. I wasn't hurt, but still...

Moon rise over downtown.

Heading back to the hostel, Alex and I had one final treat in store. We had learned through the facebook that Charlie Gandleman, an old friend of ours would be studying at the American University in Cairo that semester and had recently arrived. We managed to set up a meeting with him outside our hotel that night. Even though our bus was scheduled to leave at 10:30 and it was already after 8, we decided the hell with it, and took Charlie and our luggage to the ahwa for one last cup of tea. Khel nearly plotzed when he saw us! (His word, not mine.) We introduced him to Charlie and shared a couple of stories. It would have been nice to spend more time but we were on a schedule and had to roll out. We got a taxi right on the corner, but the driver didn't know how to get to Turgemon station. This meant a half hour of him driving in circles, stopping every hundred meters or so to ask directions. It didn't make me feel real confident in our driver. Finally we arrived and got inside. We had to take a later bus as the one we were intending on taking was full. This would have dire consequences some 6 hours later on the Israeli border.

Tea with Charlie.

The ride through the Sinai was uneventful. As boring as the desert is to look at during the day, it is even less interesting at night. We dozed most of the way. I moved in and out of sleep due to a slight queasiness that I was trying to ignore. It wouldn't be the first time a bus driver on shitty Middle East roads had made me feeel ill. Unfortunately, this was another story. We arrived to Taba around dawn and had to switch to another bus to get to the border crossing, as the one we were riding was turning south to Dahab. Stopped momentarily for a routine passport check, I suddenly felt like someone had yanked my esophagus like a door chime. Alex told me to run to the bathroom. I did just that, and I almost made it there in time! I vomited on the floor, the walls and door of the bathroom, and got it all over the old sweater I was wearing. That sweater promptly went in the garbage can. If I had gotten sick just 5 minutes later, we would have been off the bus. Or if we had taken the earlier bus, I would have been at the bus station in Eilat and would have been able to go to the bathroom or at least a garbage can. I was not so pleased at the time.

Even if I had a photo of me vomiting, I wouldn't post it online.
Instead, enjoy more Heliopolis architecture!

We finally crossed the border to Eilat around 7 in the morning. Never has Israel looked to sweet to me. Our trip to Cairo was awesome, truly unforgettable, but returning to Israel was really welcome. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I felt I was coming home. The hills of the Galilee had never before looked so sweet to me as they did when I was on the bus to Haifa two days later. It was time to resume my life in Israel, and look forward to the second half of my year abroad.

Day 4 - Heba In Hebrew

Israel is a cultural halfway house between the West and the Middle East. I didn't realize it until I visited Egypt, but Israel is very western oriented. Even so, the Middle East culture has also left a stamp on Israeli culture, leaving it a unique blend of Levantine, European and American culture that I haven't encountered anywhere else.

How to know you are in a third world country: Donkey's eating garbage by the side of the road.

Sunday morning we took the subway south to old Cairo, also known as Coptic Cairo because of the heavy concentration of Coptic churches in the area. Coptic Cairo also houses the most famous old synagogue in the city, the Ben Ezra synagogue, which is now nothing more than a museum. The train ride went much smoother the second time around, and we would spend the next two days using the subway as our primary mode of transportation. It was fast, inexpensive, and really quite easy once you learn where the stations are.

The "Hanging Church" of Cairo.

One of the more striking things about Coptic Cairo is that it was nearly empty. The downtown area is always so packed with people that this really took me by surprise. The old churches are still very active and there were a lot of worshipers inside. Many were Egyptian, but many others were tourists like us who stopped off to pray. All in all there are 6 churches in Coptic Cairo, as well as a Monastery, the old synagogue and a mosque.

The interior of the Church of St. Barbara.

My friend Katja remarked on seeing my photos that the Egyptians "have nicer synagogues than we have in Israel." The Ben Ezra synagogue is as beautiful as it is old. It is the sight of the famous Cairo Geniza. Today the synagogue and the grounds are cordoned off and guarded by Egyptian police, who strictly prohibit taking photographs inside the building. Of course, this was not going to stop me, so I held my camera as discreetly as I could down by my waste while Alex blocked me from view, so that I could snap some photos. I'm glad I did. I grabbed a hat and said a quick Shema, we dropped some money in the tzedakah box for preserving the synagogue, and we were off on our merry way.

The ark, menorah and Torah scroll at the Ben Ezra Synagogue.

From Coptic Cairo, we hopped back on the train and took it to al Gazira, intending to walk around. We stumbled upon the Cairo Opera House, a large compound with multiple theaters, an amphitheater, several concert halls and smaller stages scattered throughout. Alex wasn't particularly interested in the Opera House, while I couldn't tear myself away. I took a short 10 minute guided tour, and while it is no Civic Opera House in Chicago, the place is really quite nice. The artwork in the Opera House is a mix of Islamic and Contemporary styles, which provides a beautiful and unique contrast.

The main hall at the Cairo Opera House.

That afternoon was the most surreal of my time spent in Cairo. We met a girl in downtown named Heba. Heba is a religious Muslim Egyptian, fluent in Hebrew and thrilled to take us around Cairo and show off her city. Alex and I had been fearful of speaking Hebrew in Egypt, assuming that it could be dangerous for us. Nonsense, she quickly taught us. The overwhelming majority of Egyptians don't even recognize the language. We spent hours that afternoon and into the evening walking through the capitol of an Arab state speaking exclusively in Hebrew, and drawing no more attention than some curious stares. We must have looked like quite the trio: Two white people dressed like tourists tramping through decidedly un-touristy areas with a local Cairene girl acting as their tour guide, and chattering in a language that they did not recognize and could not place.

Our first day with Heba.

Heba was determined to show us the best of Cairo's local food and scenery. She started off by taking us to a small kiosk where she bought us glasses of sugarcane juice, called "assif." It was absolutely delicious, and so sweet it would have killed my parents after two sips. Walking through Giza, she then took us into an ice cream shop, where we tried Egyptian ice cream. It is different from what you can get back home, and I'm not really sure how to explain what is different about it. It was delicious though. Ice cream cones in hand, she led us down to the Nile to take a ride out on a small schooner on the river. Alex and I had wanted to go on a cruise on the water and mentioned this to Heba. If we had gone by ourselves, we would have had to pay 150 Pounds to hang out with other tourists. Heba got us on a tour for locals, and she of course paid for that too. I remember remarking to Alex that this is what it must be like to have a 'sugar mama.'

The sun setting over the west bank of the Nile.
Probably my favorite picture from Egypt.

Heba took us to dinner (of course) at a "Gad" location in downtown Giza which has a dining room upstairs. The dinner was very nice and would be uneventful except for one incident. Reprising a mistake a made in a Chinese restaurant in Maryland almost ten years ago, a took a huge bite out of a hot pepper, mistaking it for a bell pepper. My companions almost fell out of their chairs laughing as my face turned bright red, my nose began to run and I battled the hiccups for ten minutes. After order was restored, we finished our dinner and said goodbye, with plans to meet up for another day all together tomorrow. Alex and I took to the subway once more and came up back in central Cairo. We headed back to our ahwa for what we figured would be the last time: Our bus was scheduled to leave Cairo at 10:30 the following night. We stayed for an hour and a half, and when we told Khel we were leaving Egypt, he gave us big hugs and kisses! He also posed for this winner of a photo with us.

Saying goodbye to Khel.

We started to pack up that night, with only one more day left in Cairo ahead of us. We called Heba from the hostel desk phone and decided to meet in the Sadat subway station the next morning. Mostly packed, we put the rest of our things on the desk in our room and crashed.

The shores of the Nile at sunset.

In the courtyard of the opera house.

The gates of the old synagogue.

Our cruise on the river.

Delicious sugar cane juice.