We received official Fulbright totes that are a great size and style, and T-shirts sporting the logo which I’ve been looking forward to receiving ever since I saw my tutor wearing his! I don’t even wear T-shirts very often, but somehow I still love having it. Go figure.
Ambassador Cunningham came and spoke to us of international relations and some current events and tenors in the country and abroad. It was such an honor to be in this small room with less than two dozen other people with our country’s ambassador opening himself up to any questions we had for him. I kept wishing I was already more informed as to ask some worthwhile question! At least some of the others in the room seemed to have a more solid background from which to offer relevant questions. (Unlike some of those floating around in my head: “Um, you mentioned this or that word…are those countries or people?” Didn’t think that kind of question was perhaps appropriate to bring to the ambassador whose schedule was obviously packed. I saved them for my fellow students and I to hash out on our own time later as we walked along on the tour of the city. ;-))
We also were briefed by a security…um…guy. I am sure he had an official title. I am sorry I don’t remember it. Mostly he reminded us to use common sense—and expanded on how that plays out in logistics here. You know, don’t have a bad attitude with policing officials when they’re just doing their job. Don’t think saying, “I’m an American” will resolve misunderstandings. Don’t think saying it louder will work if it didn’t work at a lower volume. Things like that. He listed the various precautions that they as government workers must follow, and explained the reasoning behind each. It is of course always better to understand the “why” not just the “what” so as to better generalize the application. We again had a question-answer session, which was very nice. It was good to have someone who lives here, but also whose job it is to focus on this kind of thing. Because you hear things from people who don’t live here. And then you hear things from people who live here, but then again, they live here and everything seems normal to them! Pretty much there’s not a lot different here than at home—excepting that even the guy in charge of security told us we can walk alone at night and we’re statistically much safer than in the states. Ha, how’s that for contra-stereotype?
I find I am forgetting about some of the “abnormals” that I recognized at the beginning. A week or two ago, I realized I’d been looking at this guy on the bus because of his shirt or something, and as he turned, preparing to exit at the next stop, I wasn’t even phased by the big gun on his hip that came into view when he turned. I hardly see the M-16s(?) that regularly board and exit the busses. The other day one of my new friends was guessing my age. Then it was my turn to guess. We were both lamenting that we’re very bad at estimating age, and she said, “Well, I’m in uniform, so it’s cheating for you!” Oh of course. It hadn’t even registered to my consciousness that she was head to toe army.
Unrelated to arms, the other day when I was IMing with my friend from California when it was Saturday afternoon my time, and he said something about taking advantage of the weekend, and somehow it seemed odd to me. I realized later that night it was because behind his statement, there was a clear indication of it being the middle of the weekend—get out there and enjoy the beautiful weather. And I realized I was in a completely different mindset. I had been out all weekend, and Saturday was the end of the weekend, as the workweek here is Sunday-Thursday rather than Monday-Friday. “Sundays” are the “Mondays” and it’s TGIT not TGIF—that would mean half our weekend was over! I’d forgotten about the adjustment we’d all gone through, trying to shift our mindsets to the new week—somewhere along the way it must have clicked, because it took me a good hour or two to figure out why his statement had seemed odd. :-)
I also find myself surprised when I hear English being spoken on the bus, and wonder what they’re doing here—studying or working, or part of the Baha’i pilgrimage? It’s funny that I have such a reaction since still most people speak English to me. Why would I be so surprised to hear people speak it to each other? But I am, nevertheless.
Back to the orientation.
We were taken on a pretty extensive tour, covering quite a lot of Israel’s history since its birth as a state in 1948. We learned about the architecture through the generations (similar to what we learned with the ulpan—see my August 23rd entry), and also learned about a number of significant historical figures. Two stand out in my mind now: Chayim Bialik and Ben Gurion.
Chayim Bialik is recognized as Israel’s national poet. Does the US have a national poet? It took me a while to even wrap my brain around the concept. He moved to Tel Aviv in 1924, but it seems he’d been thinking about the land long long before. He was one of the first (the first?) to use Hebrew in a modern way. Up until then people mostly (only?) used it for religious purposes, but he took it and used it to write about personal things, love, life, his inner struggles, and external observations. His poems have been translated into 30 different languages, and it sounds like he’s also an Israeli Dr. Seuss or Shel Silverstein for the children here, a common part of Israeli childhood. He welcomed all kinds of people into his house to learn and read, even converting his first floor into a kind of public gathering place! People nowadays remember going to his house after school to play and learn from him. He sounds like someone I would have liked immensely.
David Ben-Gurion was the first Prime Minister of Israel. Somehow in my mind he seems similar to Winston Churchill, though honestly I don’t know very much about either of them. I wish I could remember everything they taught us about him; I was repeatedly impressed by things he did and said.
We got to visit his house, which is so “run-of-the-mill” that it would be so easy to miss, you might pass it on your way to work every day for a month before noticing it. That, of course, is appealing in its own respect--the humility of an everyday person's house for the state's first prime minister? Quiet confidence? He also spent the final years of his life living on at kibbutz out in the desert somewhere, working the land with his fellow citizens.
The inside kind of looks like my grandparents’ house. Except of course everything is preserved under glass, and there are some great quotes on the walls.
And pictures with all kinds of figures that even I recognized with my very lack of historical knowledge! They must be pretty famous indeed for me to identify them. :-)
I don’t know why I was already so endeared to this guy, but certainly when I saw above his bed pictures of him with children and on his bedside table his scriptures, that would have certainly leant me further towards liking him.
Then hearing how he loved to read, and could, from memory, tell his assistants where to find whatever book he wanted, that also would have been attractive. Then…turning the corner into his library…and seeing that it spanned four rooms! Like Bell opening her eyes after the beast threw open the curtains—I was impressed, to say the least. Our guide told us he spoke…what was it, nine languages? He would hear of a book he wanted to read, so then he would learn the language in which it was written. Just that simple, eh? Makes sense. ;-)
We walked through the four-room library to the back yard where the garage? had more exhibit, passing by the ever-present reminder in Israel that this life is not forever, and is a fragile thing indeed.
In the back building we learned more about his charismatic personality.
I would like to read one of his biographies. Time. Always an issue of time, right? And the best are probably not written in English—I’ll just have to master another language. ;-)
On our tour we also visited a museum of Reuven Rubin. He was an artist that came to this land in 1923. He was fascinated by the light here. It is so different from that he was familiar with in Romania: yellow. His art was very interesting, changing as he experienced more here and his life changed from the inside out. He used to sign his works with only his first name. And then he signed it in Roman letters and Hebrew letters. Translated, he ended up with two firsts! ;-)
We also visited what I think was Shimon Rokach’s house. I am sorry to say I don’t really remember what he did. But one day a guy came to serenade his daughter from the street below her window on his violin—she played piano, and he’d fallen in love with her music. Well, her dad looked down at the guy in the street, pulled back the curtain and yelled, "!היום יום שבת” “Hey! Today is the Sabbath!” Love it. The daughter ended up marrying the serenader.
I think it is her art that we got to see exhibited all over the house. Very interesting stuff, with cars driving up the walls and across the ceiling, and women portrayed in ways I’ve heard many express feeling.
They hosted us to a beautiful dinner at a fancy restaurant that was delicious, and huge! And we had more time to get to know each other. I was thrilled to hear that some of them are following this blog (although that brings with it a bit of pressure, too, doesn't it?). ;-)
The next day we went over to the coast and saw where Jonah would have left port, trying to run from God’s direction to go to Ninevah (Jonah 1),
and saw “the potter’s shop” door, where Simon the Tanner is thought to have lived. Remember in my entry about Ceasarea? Cornelius sent for Peter who was staying at Simon the Tanner’s house in Joppa? (Or otherwise called "Jaffa" and "Yafo" depending on how you transliterate it). So this is the other side of that story recorded in Acts 10. :-)
We also saw a pretty neat part of an excavation where you can see an Egyptian doorway thing that was built at one time in history, and a road built later in history—evidenced by its height above the hieroglyphics. It’s pretty incredible to see history not in books or movies, but in heights of a dig. I am looking into joining a dig sometime while I’m here. What an experience that would be! :-D
After the orientation one of the girls and I met up with a girl that she knows from school back home, and I met in Haifa during my summer ulpan. I had heard of a coffee shop I wanted to visit, so we went there to wait for her to finish work. At this shop, as it was put to me, “Whether you like the food or not, you pay for it. But unlike other establishments, if you like the plate you ate it off of, or the chair you sat on while eating it, or the picture on the wall you looked at while you ate…you can buy those, too!” I didn’t plan on buying anything, but wanted to see what such a place would look like. And in doing so, I was treated to a yummy drink and some wonderful conversation. It was very nice to get to know another of the scholars here a bit more than just “remind me what your project is, again? Oh, how’s it going?”.
We met up with our mutual friend for dinner, and then it was back to Haifa, leaving my computer behind as I watched Israel pass by on the train ride back north to my Haifa home.
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