Homework in Progress

I didn’t tell you that I started studying Hebrew.
Yes I know, this is an important piece of information but I am so way behind in all my writing and my entire life actually so you’ll have to bear with me.

I started studying “Ulpan” (like “Svenska för invandrare” in Hebrew) a couple of months ago.

The class has 23 people and what kind of people do you think study Hebrew?

I know what preconceived notions (sv. förutfattade meningar) I had:

• There would no one like me, who is in Israel because of a loved one.

• There would be A LOT of Jewish Americans doing “Aliyah” (immigrating to Israel)

• There would be A LOT of “Jewish” Russians doing “Aliyah” (but in most of their cases it is more about a better work opportunity than for a religious reason)

• All of them would be about 25 years old.

I was completely wrong!

My class of 23 has:

• 5 anti-social Catholic French people –
  only one of them can smile, the others will look panic-stricken when greeted or act as if it is thin air, and not my person, saying hello to them.
  All of them volunteer for Catholic organisations working mostly with handicapped or mentally disabled children. I really hope they talk and smile to the kids.

• 1 Belgian 65-75 year old man –
  very soft spoken and sweet Christian: “I embrace all religions, God is God. In the end we will all be judged for what good we did in life, not which Bible, Koran or Scripture we read.” This is what he whispered to me during class.
  He is not very good at learning Hebrew since he is so friendly that he engages anyone who sits next to him in a conversation. These talks are mostly about flowers or about the latest church, mosque, temple or synagogue he has visited. Since he is such an “all-embracing religious” guy he visits as many different “holy houses” as he can.
  He also volunteers with handicapped children and as a gardener.

• 3 German Catholics –
  one amazingly daft and the other two very bright. Also working with volunteering or studying.

• 4 Greek Orthodox –
  2 nuns all dressed in black and giggling most of the time.
  One of the nuns has a big black leather brand name bag and drives a small black sports car. She is at all times on the cell phone, sometimes even leaving the class room for an “important phone call”.
  The other nun is small and plump with apple cheeks. She is very good at Hebrew but is so shy that she whispers when getting a question whilst her cheeks turn bright red.
  Another is a very young priest who looks as if he has just escaped from prison. Black woollen hat worn at all times, long black ZZ-Top beard and black outfit that looks just like a nightdress. He has an I-Pod in his right pocket which he listens to when class is “too slow” or uninteresting for him. What he listens to? Yes I asked him. Well - German heavy metal – of course…
  The fourth Orthodox, is a beautiful mysterious woman who works at the patriarch (the orthodox church). Apparently she was a very famous actress who has escaped the world of fame and paparazzi for a much more modest kind of life…

• 5 Arabs –
  very talkative and friendly, one construction engineer from Saudi Arabia and the rest from East Jerusalem .
  Hmm…no... even though they are Israeli citizens and were born and raised in Jerusalem, they do not learn Hebrew in school. But, to be noted, neither do the Jewish in Israel learn Arabic in school (I mean it is not compulsory).
  Ehm, didn’t Dr Phil or some psychologist say something about “Communication is the key to having a good relationship” ?
  But anyway, their English is perfect. They are my favourite people in class, always friendly, joking and curious.

• 1 Finnish tall pale guy –
  studying at the bible school of the Swedish sect “Word of life” (sv. Livets Ord), you know the people who talk in tongues, consider homosexuals and mentally less able people to be connected to the devil in some way or other…I rest my case.
  One would have thought that a person who can learn the language of Jibberish to speak to God would be able to learn Hebrew (the language of the first Bible) pretty well. But I am sad to say, he sucks.

And then there’s a scattering of people from all over the world: 1 Philippine older annoying woman, 1 very shy Austrian guy who wears shoes made from pony skin?!, an Italian guy with an amazing singing voice but also very Christian and religious, a Japanese girl who is here because her Japanese husband is doing his doctorate here and a Korean girl who doesn’t say anything. That’s about it.

Visit from Home

The same night as the Purim party my sister and mum came to visit.

What followed was a hurricane of activities:

Old City - Jerusalem

Monk in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher - Jerusalem

Mountains - Dead Sea

Swimming in a waterfall - Dead Sea

Weird Animal - Dead Sea

Mud - Dead Sea

Cable Car - Masada

View of Dead Sea and Jordan

Tel Aviv

I wish it would rain

In the winter it rains in this country, although it is mostly a desert country there is actually more rainfall in Jerusalem per year than in Berlin or Paris.

All of the rain comes during three months in the winter.

Now it is summer and I am longing for some rain, it is hot hot hot, everyday has a clear blue sky and a large sun in the sky.

It is only five months until the next drop.

Then the streets will look like this again:

Purim

Sorry.

Too many things happened and I got so overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I wanted to write about, that instead of writing a line here and there, I just shut down.
Overload.

So now fast forward from where I left off:

Purim - celebrated somewhere in between February and March

Purim is an odd week in this country and it is the most popular holiday with huge parties.

The story behind the holiday has a Persian evil minister, a Persian king and his favourite (Jewish) wife and her Jewish uncle, as characters. Then there is something about killing all the Jews (you’ve heard it all before…) and how the plot fails thanks to the beautiful favourite wife of the king.
And anyway, because of this “historical” story all people wear weird costumes for a week and go to fancy dress up parties. Obvious isn't it...

The fancy dress parties are not like in Sweden where 10% of the party goers make something fun out of it; 50% put on a silly mask to match their everyday outfits; and the rest, 40% show up as normal as can be. Only wearing a sort of patronising look on their faces of disapproval at the childishness of the dressed up guests.

Here in Israel fancy dress is taken VERY seriously for the entire week and in everyday life:

Old man at a bus stop

Me as an Ars - Israeli "white" trash 2006
(first time I met all the loved one's friends)

Me as the hump of a camel 2007
(I made the camel from newspaper, towels and a bit of fake fur)

Work in No Progress

So I’ve written about how I live here, but I don’t think you really know WHAT I do here? How do I spend my days? What WILL I do?

They are very good questions and I better answer them shortly cause to be honest with you, I’ve run out of money. Ok, I won’t starve to death or have to run around without clothes in the street. But I might have to walk a bit more instead of taking a bus and not buy a coffee-to-go or a sandwich in the café (and they have such delicious sandwiches in this country!).

So I need a job, my wish was to do more creative things when I got here, you know, like sew or knit or crochet stuff and sell. And in the first few weeks I did crochet hats and fingerless gloves and actually sold a few.

The hats look like this for instance:

And the gloves:

Just simple stuff.

The gloves are pretty popular in the music school where the loved one studies, they are good for musicians, since they can keep their hands warm and still play piano or a guitar.

What I make has to be simple and quick or else I won’t be able to sell them, more time spent on something means means a higher price.

But even before the winter here ended I stopped making the hats and gloves.

I don’t know why, a friend of mine who has a clothes store in the most popular street in Tel Aviv even said that I should give him some samples of the gloves and he would try to sell them. But I didn’t give him any, partly because I didn’t have enough hours in a day to make the samples but probably mostly because I didn’t really believe it would be possible to sell them.

That’s my biggest problem. I don’t believe they will sell or that things I make look nice or that people will want to have them.

So when winter ended I tried to figure out what to do next and then one of my favourite friends back in Sweden gave me an idea:

Recently in Sweden a popular thing to sell is handmade crocheted jewellery which has been dipped in lacquer so it is stiff and shiny like plastic.

I tried to find pictures of this on the internet which was impossible so I just started to invent stuff and it didn’t turn out so well.

First of all it takes for ever to make them since the needle and thread are so thin which also make my hands and neck hurt. But most importantly they are ugly! Who’d want to wear them as earrings or pendants? Aren’t they ugly?

(These are not lacquered yet)

So what then? What can I do, which is creatively stimulating for me and quick and easy and will sell.

Another idea I had was to make little purses or bags like this:

It is not finished yet, only in a developing stage, I stuck a piece of paper inside, but the inside should be made of fabric with a little zipper. But to make these I need a sewing machine.
And oh dear, did I mention that I don’t have any money left?

So, Catch 307 - I can’t make stuff to sell so I will earn money which will mean that I can buy a sewing machine to make the stuff I want to sell so that I will earn money…

And yes, I could borrow some money I suppose, but I am really scared that I will get a machine and then not proceed to make things because I give up for lack of confidence and motivation.

“I don’t know if these will sell either and I don’t know if they are nice etc etc”.

I have other ideas as well. Baby clothes are easy and quick to sew and I think there might be a market for more “trendy” baby clothes here, since it is such a backward country.

But then again …sewing machine…

And will I really do it? Will the things I make be nice? Will they sell?

Not a Trivial Thing

I do not want to write about politics or wars.
These are not Trivial Matters.

But the situation is this:

A lot of people died today and not very far from where I am.

I don’t know what to say, it is too sad to reflect upon, so it is easier to bury ones head in the sand and not read newspapers or watch news on the television.

But a lot of people were injured today.

A lot of people huddled inside the shelters all day and all night, fearing for their lives.

I want to recommend another blog for you, it is written by two friends, one a Palestinian who lives in Gaza and the other an Israeli who lives 10 kilometres away, in Sderot, just over the border in Israel.

Read it:

Life must go on in Gaza and Sderot

Washing Clothes and Drying Dove

It is not fun to wash clothes, but it is something one has to do occassionally. In our case this occasionally, unfortuantly takes place once a week.

So last week I grumpily got out of bed knowing that it was washing day. The weather was dismal to match my mood. It was pouring down with an icey wind that came from everywhere.

So I collected the clothes in my big blue IKEA bag and forced myself up the hill, against the wind, the 100 metres to the laundry. It was hard work.

I started the machines and started to leave the building (which also has dorms and an office) but at the entrance of the building I came to a full stop.

There, huddled just inside the entrance on the floor was the most dismal pigeon I have ever seen. Its wings hung on its side dragging on the floor as if it had no strength to pick them up and I could understand her.

The pigeon was soaking wet and shivering, I have never seen a bird so wet before, it was as if someone had poured a whole bucket of water on top of her and there she sat, not knowing what had hit her and not knowing what to do. There was a puddle building up underneath her from the water dripping off her wings and tail.

It seriously broke my heart and I understood that she was trying to get indoors where it was a bit warmer but the wind was howling through the doorway and nowhere in the building was a safe haven for her. People were going in and out of this entrance - some girls screamed when they saw her pathetic being and others just saying Ooops! when they nearly trod on her. So the pigeon was very scared and dared not go anywhere I think, I also think she was so cold that she didn’t have any strength either.

So I went home with an aching heart – down the hill, against the wind.

And if you seriously think that I am a cold hearted terrible person and that I left her there to die, you are not worthy of being my friends.

I did go home alone.

But.

When I got home, I took a cardboard box (from our fuse popping oven) stuffed an old bathroom mat in the bottom and put a little container with bread crumbs and oatmeal in it.

The I took a soft pillowcase (the softest material I could find) and went back to the entrance, up the hill, against the wind, wondering if she would still be there.

She was.

And I wouldn’t say she was glad that I picked her up, but I don’t think she was very unhappy, either, to suddenly be embraced by warm soft cotton.

I put her in the box and put the box next to the radiator which was hot.

She didn’t do much, just sat there.

And in the morning she was dead.

NOOO! Just kidding!

In the morning she woke me up, by flapping her wings.

She was completely dry, so I took her outside, where she flew from my hands and sat on a lamppost to tidy her feathers.

Unfortunatly I was in such a distress when I found the pigeon that I didn’t have an sense to take a picture of her misery.

But fortunately for you, I am an outstanding artist so here is a picture of what she looked like before…

and here's a picture of what she looked like after her ordeal: