While I travel I keep note of “tidbits,” little bits of information that I think are particularly amusing or unusual.

Blending in as an American

“Try to blend in,” say travel agents and travelers to Americans planning to travel abroad. I was told this when I went to Japan four years ago and it didn’t work out too well. In Israel, though, I was mistaken for a local on more than one occasion: someone would ask me a question in Hebrew and I’d have to apologize that I couldn’t understand it. On my first train ride into Tel Aviv, one poor gentleman asked the three people around him a question — and none of them spoke Hebrew. Still I felt out of place not knowing the main language.

Elsewhere I found that being an American is not necessarily bad. With the U.S. as Israel’s chief ally and financial benefactor, everyone in Israel keeps a close eye on American politics and current events. I found that many folks base their opinion of the American President largely on how he supports or interacts with the Israeli Prime Minister.

Animals All Over

Cats and dogs are popular pets on Givat Brenner though nobody ever bothers to tie up their dogs in the yard. I’m scared of big dogs so that was something I had to get used to. Apparently it’s required by law to keep dogs leashed outside, but nobody bothers to enforce the law.

The other thing that surprised me: stray cats are everywhere, at least in Tel Aviv. You see cats all over the place in alleys foraging for food as squirrels and other little animals would anywhere else. Of course, rodents aren’t nearly as common but I have to wonder if the cats are kept around specifically to feed on other vermin.

Jews Can Preach…

…but only to other Jews.

In America the notion of a preachy Jew is very rare and very unusual. There are plenty of signs, pamphlets, and graffiti tags placed by ultra-Orthodox Jewish sects specifically targeting other Jews. One famous example is the Na Nach Nachma mantra which I saw tagged, complete with vowels, on many walls.

In Jerusalem, as I noted in that article, Orthodox Jews also congregate near the kotel (Western Wall) begging for donations, even though panhandling is officially forbidden at that site. The Jews at the kotel were by far the most pushy I’ve ever dealt with.

Cafés But No Starbucks

You would think that in a country that loves coffee and has embraced European-style cafés, Starbucks would be all over. That’s not true: I’m told that they entered the Israeli market but backed out after experiencing disappointing sales. The major chain, Aroma, started up after Starbucks’ failed experiment and is ubiquitous today. I’m very surprised that even though so many other American brands hit it big in Israel, Starbucks was a dud.

Touching is Inevitable

The last big international trip I took was to Japan, where physical contact between strangers is frowned upon unless absolutely necessary due to space limits. In Israel, assertiveness gets physical quickly. Instead of sidestepping other pedestrians many Israelis will just bash their way through. Even women in their 50s pushed me out of the way to get to a bus stop — and there wasn’t a bus stopped there yet. On the flip side, affirmation or acknowledgement takes the form of a friendly pat on the back or some other physical gesture.

Conclusions

I’ll head back to Israel some day, perhaps as part of the Birthright program (I’m eligible until my 27th birthday in early 2008) to see more of the country. There truly is a lot to see in a state the size and approximate shape of New Jersey.

Israel got me to drink cappuccino again. I tried one when I was in college and hated the gritty texture, but I guess that one wasn’t made correctly. If only there were a place in Seattle to get a good cappuccino…

I’ve also been spoiled by authentic falafel. Hezi had damning words for what New York City street vendors pass off as “falafel.”

Now I’m off from Pittsburgh to Seattle in the next leg of what has become an unusually busy travel year for me.

I visited Jerusalem twice during my week in Israel. On Thursday I visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial on the outskirts of Jerusalem, and on Friday I went with Hezi to the old city.

Getting to Town

On Thursday I was on my own so I took the bus from Rehovot into Jerusalem. Searching any news site for the keywords “bus” and “Jerusalem” suggests that I’m completely crazy, but I bit the bullet and went anyway. Egged (pronounced “EGG-ed” as two syllables) is the largest bus line in Israel and charged me about NIS 36 for a round-trip ticket. I felt secure since Rehovot’s major bus terminal/mall has security guards at every entrance, but then I saw more passengers get on the bus on the side of the road like in any other place in the world. Since that made us all potentially unsafe, we all had to go through metal detectors again upon arrival in Jerusalem. That was the only time I felt that security checks were annoying more than they were beneficial.

One can get to Yad Vashem by bus from the Jerusalem central bus station, but the combination of security concerns (no checkpoints anywhere), traffic, and the preponderance of bus stops led me to just call a cab. To get down to Yad Vashem cost me NIS 25; to get back cost me NIS 30, but I had to haggle down from initial offers that ranged as high as NIS 42. Taxis are about as reckless as you might expect of a Middle Eastern city, though I appreciated that taxis and buses have dedicated traffic lanes to sidestep normal traffic patterns.

Israel Never Forgets

I expected Yad Vashem to be a single museum but it is actually a whole complex with several museums, halls, monuments, and parks. Some areas are still undergoing construction and expansion. This is also a must-see area for tourists though the gift shop doesn’t offer many items specifically marked as Yad Vashem souvenirs. Most of the exhibits are marked in Hebrew and English. All of the exhibits are free of charge though there are donation boxes that are filled with a rainbow of dollars, shekels, and the occasional euro note.

The main hall is a large prism. When you stand at one end you can see all the way through to the exit, but to see the exhibits takes over an hour of meandering through rooms on both sides of the naturally-lit corridor. The exhibits move through the history of World War II as shown from the perspective of Jews living throughout Europe. There are the requisite pieces of Nazi memorabilia along with a recreation of a street scene in the Warsaw ghetto, many video interviews with survivors, and exhibits representing every country, large and small, that was affected by the Holocaust.

The main museum is very tastefully-presented and is something that must be seen to be appreciated. The museum is truly focused on the war itself; unlike Tel Aviv’s Diaspora House (Beth Hatefutsoth), there’s very little mention of any other period in the history of the Diaspora. The formation of the state of Israel is given but one corner of the final exhibit room; more detail would certainly be found in one of Jerusalem’s many other museums of Israeli history.

Outside one finds a courtyard with a small cafeteria, a small and sedate museum of Holocaust artwork, and a synagogue. There is also a media library where one can view footage in short and long form. Had I stayed all day long I could have watched the entirety of Life is Beautiful, but I instead watched some of the Nazi propaganda films that were so skewed the museum placed a “STAGED NAZI FILM” bug in the corner of the video image.

I regret not picking up a map at the entrance to Yad Vashem, because just walking around I found a whole campus of memorial buildings. I found the Children’s Memorial particularly haunting: after descending a sandstone walkway visitors first see a montage of happy children’s faces, then walk into a mirrored room where infinitely many candles provide the only light. In this final room a voice-over announces the names of children and the camps where they were killed.

Just walking around is an awesome experience. The site of Yad Vashem affords beautiful panoramic views of the city of Jerusalem to send an uplifting message: after the Holocaust, the state of Israel came together and built a vast city up from nothing. On my next trip into Jerusalem Hezi pointed out the many neighborhoods that were not built until after 1948 (Israeli independence) or until after 1967′s Six-Day War when Jerusalem’s borders were asserted. After a very depressing trip through a dark point in history, the views outside speak for themselves.

The Old City

The next day was Friday, a day off for many Jewish workers as the Sabbath runs from Friday evening to Saturday evening. (Sunday is a normal working day in Israel.) Hezi and I drove to Jerusalem using a winding scenic route through the Judean Mountains. Hezi pointed out that many of the roads we were taken were also used as strategic routes during the Independence War in 1948. A direct trip on the major highways takes as little as 30 minutes from Rehovot to Jerusalem; including a stop for taking pictures of a valley, we made it in 45.

We parked and made our way through the various Russian historical structures of Jerusalem (later taken over by the British government, then the current Israeli government) to find ourselves at the Jaffa Gate of the Old City. Inside we found a bustling scene of activity with street vendors (including the best bagels I’ve ever had), small shops, and much to my surprise, car traffic.

Walking around the Old City provides a mix of old architecture with modern tourist traps. I resisted the temptation to buy Hebrew Coca-Cola shirts, Hebrew Budweiser shirts, and Hebrew Steelers shirts at the many tourist shops. The cramped interior roads of the Old City actually open up to residences — I didn’t know this, but many people regard it as a rite of passage to live in bright apartments in the heart of historic Jerusalem — and more small shops. It is here where you can get a great falafel, a cup of coffee, or some traditional gifts at reasonable prices if you know what you’re doing. Hezi as my guide had the command of Hebrew needed to establish himself as someone not to be ripped off. However, watch your pockets in some of the crowded markets; little kids run through the crowd and if they get your wallet, you won’t get it back.

The Wall

Of course the main attraction of the Old City for Jewish visitors is the Western Wall, which locals call the kotel, or “the wall.”

The Wall dates to the second Jewish Temple, the last remaining bit of a structure that was demolished in 70 CE (A.D. 70). It is undoubtedly the most sacred site in all of Judaism, yet it is in an area that is not uniquely Jewish. The gold-topped Dome of the Rock is a sacred site to Muslims and is visible in most photos of the Wall. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, regarded by many as the site where Jesus was crucified and buried, is a short walk away. Hezi astutely pointed out that if any one of these structures is attacked, particularly the Wall or the Dome of the Rock, World War III would start in Jerusalem.

After passing through a security checkpoint we donned yarmulkes and walked to the base of the Wall. On Fridays, in advance of Shabbat, cameras and mobile phones are prohibited in the “area designated for prayer.” Many large tables are spread out in front of the wall and one must be respectful of the Orthodox Jews davening at this sacred site. Detracting from the experience, many of these same Jews beg for money at the base of the Wall and are not deterred by a tourist’s indifference or lack of language skills. (There is also an official donation box for upkeep of the Wall itself, which is where I put my money.)

Just inside at the Wall is a small library of liturgical books that one can freely borrow and read from while seated or standing in front of more segments of the Wall. You can also look down to see just how deep the Wall goes, which is particularly remarkable as it has survived for nearly 2,000 years following the destruction of most of the temple it surrounded.

It is common for visitors to write a small note containing a wish or prayer, to fold this note up, and to place it in one of the Wall’s cracks. I did this, putting a small blue note from my PicoPad beside dozens of others in a wad that resembles discarded chewing gum.

Jerusalem’s Struggles as a City

I was surprised when Hezi told me that Jerusalem was a “poor city.” As the capital of Israel, there are incredibly upscale houses and condominiums that target diplomats, politicians, and the very wealthy. Not far away, you see where pilgrims and other religious people live a life of poverty. Panhandling, as I saw at the Wall, is obviously an important thing to fund such an austere life. Hezi also told me, with some degree of disdain, about how the government provides public assistance to these same people based on the number of children they have — and Orthodox Jews don’t use birth control. This leads to a definite conflict between those trying to make a modern living and those who live in Jerusalem as a religious obligation.

I’ve also been told that the ultra-Orthodox haredim make life more difficult for people who want a modern life in Israel. Though they make up about 6% of the total population, the haredim are so influential that they count the mayor of Jerusalem among their numbers. On Shabbat, the haredim take matters into their own hands to enforce the fourth commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” They block streets, hassle store owners, and shame those who are performing any sort of work (including writing or driving) between Friday at sunset and Saturday at sunset.

Many have told me that Jerusalem is a city so rich in history that I could easily spend over a week in Jerusalem alone. Indeed, many tourists come directly to Jerusalem and stay there for their entire vacation. I would definitely like to return one day to see more of the sights.

Yes, I Took Public Transportation

When my parents traveled to Israel last October, they had the good fortune to travel during the Jewish holiday of Sukkot. Hezi and Mimi, my cousins who have lived in Givat Brenner for 27 years, had the whole week off to drive them all around the country. My schedule worked out differently: on a few of the days I was in Israel, both Hezi and Mimi were at work as usual. That left me with the prospect of using Israel’s bus and rail systems to get around.

When traveling into Tel Aviv I took Israel Railways‘ trains from Rehovot. These trains are modern Bombardier bi-level coaches with automated announcements (only in Hebrew) and comfortable seats. The signs are in the standard Israel trilingual pattern of Hebrew and Arabic (both official languages) and English. Fortunately, railway employees and many passengers spoke English well enough to help me buy tickets and find the right platform.

Tourists are often reluctant to take public transportation in Israel due to safety concerns. I felt very comfortable on the train from the moment I walked into the Rehovot train station past a gentleman with a metal-detector wand reminiscent of those you see at airports. (Those same checkpoints are also found at Israeli bus stations, shopping malls, and even Tel Aviv University.) At the Tel Aviv University train station there was one particularly bizarre exchange: I passed through a metal detector and set it off. As I prepared to do the whole “visiting Magneto in prison” airport security routine, one guard asked me indifferently if I was carrying any weapons. I said no. She said, “OK, go on.” I’m very glad I appeared nonthreatening enough to pass through security without any fuss. Later I was told by family that even if I said “yes” to the weapons question, I would have needed to show proof that I could carry them legally. Soldiers in the Israeli Defense Forces can ride the rails for free and many carry their automatic rifles in plain sight while they do so.

Impressions of Tel Aviv

Tel Aviv was the first city I visited outside the kibbutz. I met up with my friend Shoshannah who at the time was doing a yearlong program through OTZMA. She showed me around this uniquely-modern city. During the 1920s and ’30s, rapid expansion in the then-British mandate of Palestine led to an unusual number of Bauhaus-style buildings being constructed. Furthermore, the hot temperatures led to a lot of cafés sprouting up: as in other European cities, people felt more comfortable sitting outside sipping coffee than they did sitting inside as the sun beat down on their living rooms. Many of these cafés now offer free Wi-Fi access, encouraging patrons to stay there even longer.

Given the choice of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Tel Aviv definitely seems the more fashion-conscious and cosmopolitan city. Boutiques and shopping malls abound in the downtown area and the environment really feels more European (or even American) than Middle Eastern. Sure, you can get a shwarma and the place shuts down on the Sabbath, but the heavy-handed influence of the ultra-orthodox haredim isn’t nearly as strong in Tel Aviv as it is in, say, Jerusalem.

There are beaches in front of the beautiful Mediterranean Sea where one can rent a beach chair for 12 shekels (about US$2.70) or just sprawl out on the sand for free. I spent enough time enjoying the beautiful day Monday to develop a healthy sunburn. The sea tends to moderate the temperatures and weather. All the high-priced American hotels, as well as several pricey apartment buildings, overlook the Mediterranean. I visited Shoshannah’s friend Natalie, a young Alabaman Jewish woman who is positively enraptured with Israel, at her spacious walk-up apartment within walking distance of the beach; Natalie and her roommate pay only $750 per month combined for such a convenient location. (Many real estate transactions are done using US dollars to guard against currency volatility.)

I toured one of Tel Aviv’s markets where vendors sell everything from clothing to knickknacks to fresh-baked bread, ending up with a Maccabi Tel Aviv basketball t-shirt for just 20 shekels the day after the team lost its bid for a third-straight Euroleague championship. I also noticed but didn’t patronize the many fresh fruit stands that dot the streets of Tel Aviv, where any fruit or vegetable can be juiced and served to you right on the spot for only a few shekels.

Remembering the Diaspora

On Yom HaZikaron on Tuesday, the Israeli day of remembrance, most places shut down for a day off. Even Israeli entertainment TV stations run downbeat programming or go off the air entirely. However the trains stay in service so I traveled to Tel Aviv University to visit Beth Hatefutsoth, the Diaspora House. Although the museum claims that you’ll need five or six hours to take it all in, it was only open from 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM that day so I didn’t get to see everything in great detail. The museum teaches all about the diaspora, the dispersion of Jews outside Israel dating back as far as the eighth century B.C.E. (Before Common Era, a non-Christian analog to B.C.) and currently referring to Jews who live outside Israel.

The museum includes antiquities from the various eras of persecution and exclusion that have defined Jewish life through the centuries. I found it interesting how these same exclusions have shaped Jewish culture as the Diaspora returned to Israel. Sephardic and Ashkenazic Jews, for example, trace their different cultures and even languages to the cultures to which they found themselves displaced. (As an example, see Ladino, a language which sounds like Spanish but is written with the Hebrew alphabet.) There’s also a large collection of scale-model synagogues which demonstrate a beautiful range of architectural styles and internal layouts. Some synagogues through history had been adapted from churches’ or mosques’ designs. I was particularly surprised to see Touro Synagogue of Newport, Rhode Island, in the museum; I didn’t know it but Touro is America’s first synagogue, dating to 1759. Several of the European synagogues presented in Beth Hatefutsoth were destroyed during the Holocaust; whatever artifacts survived are presented in the museum.

There is a national two-minute siren to mark the day of remembrance at 11:00 AM. While inside Beth Hatefutsoth, I did not hear the siren and did not hear any sort of public address announcement to mark the siren’s sounding. When I told Hezi about this he became upset; why would a museum dedicated to preserving the memory of Jewish struggle fail to observe a key moment in Israel?

In the coming days, I’ll write up my experience in Jerusalem and offer some more thoughts on my time in Israel.

I planned my trip to Israel to visit my family (distant relatives, who I’ll all call “cousins” to save time) on Kibbutz Givat Brenner, a kibbutz of 2,000 acres located about halfway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. My parents visited these same relatives last October and were just blown away by all that they saw. I too had a great time traveling around and seeing some amazing historical sites.

The Kibbutz That’s Not a Real Kibbutz

I stayed on Kibbutz Givat Brenner, a farming and industrial kibbutz which was founded in 1928 when Israel was still a part of the British Mandate of Palestine. One of the earliest kibbutzim, I’ve been told that it was once the largest kibbutz in all of Israel.

It really is remarkable that one can find such a bucolic scene less than an hour’s drive from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The kibbutz features acres of farmland where cauliflower, cabbage, pomelit (a hybrid of pomelo with grapefruit, the latter being a hybrid of pomelo with orange), and ready-to-plant trees all grow for consumption. There’s a petting zoo for the kids and an unmistakable smell suggests the presence of horses and cattle on one end of the kibbutz.

Traditionally kibbutzim were self-sufficient by nature, but modern thinking dictates that farmland instead be devoted to products that are more profitable so that less-profitable crops can be bought from other farms at market prices. Kibbutz Givat Brenner also once had a juice factory and a carpentry concern; both are now defunct but the spaces are up for rent to outside firms. Likewise, housing on the kibbutz is largely occupied by members (who go by the term “kibbutzniks”) but outsiders also may rent certain flats or houses. The change in socioeconomic structure over the years has led many long-time kibbutzniks to opine that Kibbutz Givat Brenner “is not a kibbutz” — I heard a lot of stories during the week about the time when Givat Brenner “was a real kibbutz.”

Cynicism aside, I was still impressed by the solidarity and community that are highlighted by Yom HaZikaron (Remembrance Day) and Yom HaAtzma’ut (Independence Day). The two holidays are arguably the most important secular days in Israel and I was on the kibbutz for both of them. Yom HaZikaron is defined by remembrance ceremonies all through the nation: kibbutzniks at Givat Brenner gather to remember their fallen neighbors and hold a memorial service at the kibbutz’s cemetery. After a somber, quiet night-and-day (even secular holidays run from sunset to sunset) during which domestic entertainment TV channels go off the air, the mood suddenly changes from reverence to joy as Yom HaAtzma’ut begins. A boisterous celebration in the kibbutz high school’s gymnasium attracts well over 1,000 attendees, many of whom left the kibbutz to live elsewhere years ago. This event is all about the kibbutz members; those who merely rent space don’t attend. The entertainment is all local and the musical accompaniment is provided by students from the kibbutz’s music school. Every year the program features skits and musical numbers celebrating Israel’s history along with a few unique twists. This year’s highlight: a tribute to the British Isles including a visiting bagpiper, a singing of Amazing Grace with Hebrew lyrics, and traditional Irish dancing.

A Simpler Life

My cousins Hezi and Mimi have lived in a flat on Givat Brenner for 27 years and have raised three kids there. The youngest, Hagai, is now 20 and in the Israeli Defense Forces as part of his mandatory military service. The oldest, Shelley, is married and lives in a modest flat with her husband Arik; her children would be my fourth cousins as we would share a common great-great-great-grandfather. I stayed in the flat normally occupied by Yael (yah-EL), the middle child, who is touring rural Asia with her boyfriend now that her military service is done. Although everyone’s been living on the kibbutz for so long, what really impressed me was the paucity of “stuff” everyone had accumulated. The small size of flats coupled with the traditional values of kibbutzniks suggests that materialism isn’t quite as strong there as it is in the U.S. That’s not to say people keep empty homes: every flat I saw had cable or satellite TV, a phone, a computer or two (the kibbutz has its own broadband ISP), and a modern kitchen. However, the living spaces I saw were just large enough to accommodate one’s clothing, a reasonable collection of books (likely lent among kibbutzniks), a pantry, and enough space to seat four for dinner comfortably. On Friday night, weekly dinner at Hezi and Mimi’s attracted a crowd of 11 people and two dogs; the expanded seating completely filled the living/dining area and made me feel just a bit claustrophobic. Outdoor verandas are common and common areas abound throughout the kibbutz, so I never felt too restricted even though Yael’s flat was roughly the size of my last dorm room.

Security is not as pronounced on the kibbutz as it is in the larger cities. The largest crime seems to be theft: a group of thieves made off with 15 calves recently, for example. On Sunday night Shelley decided to go home partway through the basketball game we were watching; my first thought was “she’s walking home alone this late?” Day or night, people are out and safety concerns are limited to avoiding moped collisions. Hezi and Mimi have come to know so many kibbutz members in their time at Givat Brenner, and friendly conversations came quickly while I was out walking with them. By contrast, I as an outsider received friendly smiles or perplexed looks when I greeted passersby with a friendly “Hi,” a common greeting even among Hebrew speakers.

What I’ve Searched For

As I prepare to move 2,500 miles west in just two weeks’ time, I’m reminded of the search I made just a year ago for a great place to live. I searched for what seemed like a hopeless goal: walking distance to friends, places to congregate or grab a cup of coffee, and a quiet and safe enough environment to truly relax. In Pittsburgh I feel like I found those things in Highland Park, but the kibbutz puts all those things in a single environment that, at least in principle, can be self-contained. I don’t know if I’d want to live on a kibbutz full-time, though — once you expect to live there, you actually have to contribute somehow to the group effort.

Later in the week: posts about my experiences in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.