Wednesday was an interesting day. First of all, I skipped class. Which I like to do once in a while just to mix it up. After some much needed sleep and some good times staring at the ceiling, I took the bus downtown. I met with a key employee at the Sokhnut, Jewish Agency, who is helping me with my plan of world conquest. Or, in this case, with composing a letter in Hebrew. The Jewish Agency offices in Jerusalem are located in "City Tower" a 20-floor building at the intersection of Ben Yehuda and King George streets. As most of Jerusalem has the same 2-3 floor buildings it had a 100 years ago and as new buildings are rarely built downtown, the view from the office is impressive, even if it is only the 14th floor. Afterwards, I walked down Ben Yehuda toward the Old City. This stretch of Ben Yehuda, while a bit of a tourist trap, is still entertaining. Lots of various Jerusalemites and tourists walking about, buying things and speaking English. Once I reached Kikar Ha'Zion, I hung a right and attempted to visit my uncle in his office. He's a dentist, but I guess, like other Israeli businessmen, he doesn't see the need to be open in the middle of a random weekday. I then proceeded to the Old City, via some interesting streets I had never known, and that's when the fun started.

I walked into the Christian quarter, which is inhabited by Christian Arabs. Despite what people who have never been to the Old City think, or who have only seen parts of it, the Old City actually covers a great deal of territory and has some very large building complexes. The Christian quarter has enormous churches and monasteries, many of them doubling as schools, that sit on sizable grounds. The Christian quarter is relatively clean, and many of its residents are fairly wealthy. It's not quite as nice as the Jewish quarter, but it still has that Mediterranean-but-with-money look that I find really attractive. A mix of Jerusalem stone and millenia old architecture with a dose of class. I must have wondered around it for an hour, following little winding alleys into the nooks and what not. Eventually, I wondered into the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which, as you all know, is built on the place where key Christian events are deemed to have occured. Specifically, Jesus's crucifiction, his burial, his ressurection and then ascent to heaven. Those of you who have been know that it is an enormous structure, with numerous corridors and rooms, and it is built on top of solid rock. This rock is actually built into in many places, and has been dug down into to reveal various areas holy to Christians.

So, being the good Jew that I am, I decided to get a tour of the lord Jesus Christ's previous haunts. Being the very Jewish Jew that I am, I wasn't about to pay for it. So, I snuck up to a Russian tour group and proceeded to follow them around. For some reason it was all women aged 30 to 4o, which is not as sexy is sounds. The tour guide was quite good and although he gave me a few glances, he opted not to confront my invasion of his little group. I like to think it's because of my self-confidence that I got my way, but it could be that he just didn't care one way or the other. Aside from giving excellent facts, he was clearly putting across an Eastern Orthodox Christian agenda, which included a few choice stabs at Jews and some minor distorting of Israeli history. I reacted with pinpoint questions, which he artfully avoided. Anti-semite. Anyways, the highlight was that after we descended into some cavern of sorts, a random priest came up and told us we could go and check out the base of the rock of Golgotha, that being the place where Jesus was crucified. The Church excavated the supposed rock of Golgotha a long time ago, but access to its large base is rare and requires a lot of bureacracy and connections. This is because people chip off pieces as keepsakes, and after thousands of years of rock-hungry pilgrims, the Church decided to clamp down. For some reason, we were allowed in. We entered into an iron door, followed a 100 meter long cave-like passage, and emerged in a large, well-lit room, one of the walls of which is the rock of Golgotha. One of the random rocks also had a boat drawn on it. Turns out, that boat is the earliest proof that pilgrims have been coming to Jerusalem to get a piece of Jesus and was only discovered recently. Kind of exciting.

We then emerged, and after some Eastern Orthodox propoganda, I left the group and went up to a room that is build around the top of Golgotha, where the cross was located. I watched a long procession of tourist-pilgrims patiently waiting in line, then getting down on their knees, reaching down to touch the rock and praying in that Christian way they do. I probably shouldn't have felt amused by how funny they looked, but I did. I then went to observe another procession of pilgrims doing their touching/praying thing at the grave of Jesus, where he was supposedly buried for three days before being ressurected. What is the story with getting down on one's knees? The Muslims do this as well, and I find it interesting that Jews do not.

Speaking of Jews, after all this Christianity, I needed to get back to my people. So I walked out of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and made my way out of the Christian quarter into the Moslem quarter. It was clear that it was Muslim, because the buildings immediately got shabbier, the streets dirtier, and there was lots of uncollected trash. This is all fact, anyone who doesn't believe that these people have issues keeping their public areas clean needs to see it for themselves. Many people, Jews in particular, wouldn't feel safe walking around an all Moslem area, especially once it starts getting dark. And yes, there were large groups of rough looking young men sitting around, which would appear menacing to many. Unless of course you believe in doing whatever you think is right and G-d will take care of the rest. Then the concept of fear for one's physical safety doesn't really work the same way as for other people. Or, you can just call me crazy.

I walked around a bit and did not really enjoy myself due to all the filth, and maybe due to the annoyance of being surrounded by people who want all the Israeli Jews to vanish. The highlight of being in that quarter was seeing several groups of loud, chattering Israeli soldier-girls walking around. I don't know if they were shopping or were just sent there to show a presence, but it's probably the latter. The Arabs did not look happy with all those empowered women with their M-16's walking about the neighborhood, speaking Hebrew. But then again, their lives have improved by leaps and bounds since the Hashemites stopped being their overlords, and they've been able to progress in a more Western economic structure. Many of them are secretly thankful. That's why studies consistently show that Israeli Arabs prefer Israel to all the nations of the Middle East as their place of residence. Something about not being treated like cattle by ruthless dictators with massive police apparatuses that seems to really appeal to people.

When I've had enough, I approached the border with the Jewish quarter. Actually, I didn't know my way around and walked to the border by accident. It's not a border in the traditional sense, all the houses share walls, but there are certain crossing points from one side to another. This one was a bit of checkpoint, which is interesting as one can generally walk all around the Old City without having to go through any security. As I walked through the metal detector, one of the guards asked me "Where are you going?", and I replied "Just walking around, what's the problem?", "Well, there's no problem, we just have to make sure no Arabs can come through here." , "Why?" "This leads to a tunnel that comes out at the Kotel". All the ways one can enter the Kotel (Western Wall) area are guarded, and this was one from the Moslem side I never knew about. Makes sense though. You can't have random Arab youths running wild in a place like that. Apparently, older Arabs can get in, if the guard determines that they don't seem like they'd cause problems.

Don't worry, my social justice friends, the Jews get the same treatment with regard to the Temple Mount. The Western Wall, Kotel, is the retaining wall of the Second Temple. However, the Temple Mount itselt is the area to the east of the Kotel. This area, due to weakness on the part of the Israeli government during that key year of 1967, is part of the Moslem quarter and is under the contorl of the Wakf, a religious council. The Moslems have got the Jews to agree that the Israeli police will prevent Jews from entering the Temple Mount area (where the 1st and 2nd Temple once stood), unless they are accompanied by a Wakf official, and leave any Jewish objects with the guards. Also, Jews cannot pray or do anything that looks Jewish while there. Basically, this is a ban on Jewish presence on the Temple Mount. In the past generation, the Arabs have been excavating the Temple Mount and destroying and dumping Jewish artifacts in order to erase proof of the Jewishness of the site. There are garbage heaps that are being searched by Israeli archeologists for Jewish artifacts. This is totally unacceptable, I do not understand how a Jewish state can allow this type of destruction and defilement, but I guess I can bring that up when I am prime minister.

Back to my story. I passed the checkpoint successfully, walked down a tunnel and emerged in the Kotel plaza. After a day of Christianity and more of a dose of Islam than I could ever want, I felt SO good to be around thousands of fellow Jews. Just as a test for one's Jewishness I guess - try walking around very un-Jewish areas, then surround yourself with lots of Jews. If you feel relieved and at home, you should probably keep that Jewish ID card we all carry around. You know, the one that verifies our membership in the Jewish Bankers Guild and participation in the Zionist conspiracy. If you genuinely feel totally indifferent, then you are probably so assimilated into the non-Jewish world that you can consider yourself no longer a member of the tribe. You're now free from persecutions, evictions, genocides and any association with the Israeli-Arab conflict. The fact that the Protocols of Zion have been a best seller in the Moslem world for the past 10 years no longer matters, the fact that Moslem media sources use articles, books, cartoons and TV shows to drive home stereotypical anti-semitic themes no longer seems like an issue. Hmm... sounds nice, actually... I can find myself a nice blue-eyed, blond girl with a nose turned slightly upward... we can celebrate Christmas and chase fried bacon with milk...

I just came back from some incredible shwarma. There's this yellow sauce that is made out of some spice I can't figure out that is hands down the greatest thing since sliced bread. I've mastered the overloading of the lafa (flat round bread into which meat of felafel is packed) with various sauces and pickled vegetables, and can now load it up, eat a part of my shwarma, then reload, eat more, reload again, etc. This new skill is much to the chagrin of the surly Mizrahim who were regretting having unlimited fixin's available to customers. There's a trick that allows me to do this without getting overly messy and having the whole thing fall apart. It's a secret.

I am also rather happy about my poker victory on Thursday night. It's not that I play, but I used to fool around with my friends in the states. 80 shekels richer, that's right, that's a lot of shwarma. Just wanted to remind my readers, and there are probably at least 4 of you at this point and you all know me, that you can open up your fat american wallets and call me. So far, only one of you has accomplished this fairly easy feat. For the readers who stumbled upon my blog, you can't call me because you don't have my number. Of course, I do know of some crazy women in NY who found my number online in order to slowly drag me into their carefully woven web of sexual deviance. You know who you are, and you know you shouldn't be having sex till marriage.

I am going to watch that Fun with Dick and Jane movie in a few minutes. I doubt it'll be that good, but Jim Carrie has got to deliver something decent after such a long break. On an unrelated note, food in the US must have some chemicals added to it by the government as part of a grand conspiracy to make Americans fat. That way, they keep buying cars, huge TV's and other amenities that fat lazy people need to consume for happiness and entertainment. I eat whatever I want here, to the point of blatant disregard for any and all medical recommendations, and I can't put on a pound.

Ulpan Etzion is in Baka, which is a quiet residential neighborhood in Jerusalem. We are located south of the Old City and the Center of town, about 25 minutes walking to the Old City and about 10 minutes from the best promenade in Jerusalem, on a hill called Armon Ha'Natziv. It affords a picture perfect view northward of the Old City, the Mt. of Olives and the surrounding neighborhoods and landmarks. Armon Ha'Natziv also borders on the imaginary line that once separated East and West Jerusalem, and if you follow the promenade eastward, you can enter the park (that runs down the side of the hill) at a point that is fairly high up. From there, as you follow the path that runs just below the UN observer base, you eventually are able to look directly east and you see the limits of the Jerusalem Municipality and parts of the brand spanking new wall. It's actually a wire fence for over 95% of the route, but in some parts, most notably in Jerusalem, it's an actual wall. This is because there are parts of the fence that also act as barriers against Arab snipers.

All the neighborhoods around here, including Baka, German Colony, Arnona and Armon Ha'Natziv are residential, Jewish and not cheap in relative terms. There are a lot of smaller apartment buildings and private homes with a fair amount of greenery. Just south of Baka, and maybe 10 minutes from Ulpan Etzion is Talpiot which is an area with a mall and all sorts of stores, businesses, restaurants, etc. German Colony is just north of where I am, and it's a very expensive area. Its main drag - Emek Rafaim - boasts dozens of impressive bars, caffes, restuarants and stores of a slightly more upscale nature.

Yoji - the sushi place on Emek Rafaim, where I dined a few nights ago - is of below average quality. The fish was fine, but the rice was old and hard and they didn't have ginger sauce/dressing. The last is a serious issue for me personally because I love that stuff and I must have it with my sushi, even though it belongs in a salad. The sake was good though, but, as expected, it was not enough to get me even close to drunk. Aside from the regular rolls, we ordered sashimi wrapped, with some veggies, in a leaf of sorts. The leaf was not that great. Basically, don't eat here unless you want to spend too much for too little. On the upside, the company was outstanding.

On this past Wednesday night we celebrated half a dozen February birthdays in the Ulpan by getting drunk and going to a bar called Colony on Derech Beit Lechem, just about 5 minutes from the Ulpan. This bar is in a former werehouse, so it has extremely high ceilings, which creates the feeling of space. The atmosphere is nice, or at least it was when I went there two weeks ago. This time, there were 60 of us, and we invaded the place. Most Israelis ran for cover and we took the place over. Channel Hot 3 showed up and started interviewing random people on the dance floor. Actually, the reporter was hitting on girls and just happened to stick a microphone under their chin in the process. The guy with the camera was doing complicted acrobatics to create what I am sure will be a great artistic effect when the segment airs. The reporter, after he had finished doing his thing, inquired of me about getting a certain girl's phone number. After we had a chat, he ended up getting mine. He said he'd call me to let me know when the segment airs. I might as well believe him.

Last night, for Shabbat, I went to Rehavia, which is a neighborhood in between Baka and the Center of town. It's considered prestigious as the buildings are nice, it's quiet and green, and it's very close to everything. As such, it's popular with Americans and other foreigners, and by throwing their money around they've managed to raise property values significantly. Good news for residents, bad news for young people trying to buy in a good neighborhood on an Israeli salary. A cousin of mine is married and lives there with her husband and three kids. The kids are unbearably cute and I spent a lot of my Shabbat playing games with them and being their jungle gym, horsie, what have you. They are also good teachers of Hebrew. Due to its proximity, N (the man of the house) and I, went to the Great Synagogue for services. I don't know why it's called "Great" but it is very very large. And, like almost everywhere in Jerusalem, Americans had a dominant showing. Theoretically it's the seat of something or other and has some importance, but I don't really think those titles should apply to places of worship. All synagogues are the same, even if they are small and not as well appointed as this one.

Aside from playing with the kids, I enjoyed using my weak Hebrew skills in deep political discussions with N. He also has a degree in History and so, like most historians, his views are well-developed and go far beyond party slogans. He also holds a high position in the Jerusalem Police, which means he's got a lot of security related knowledge of this very sensitive and complicated city. Shabbat dinner was just the 6 of us, but lunch today included another family - a young Russian Jewish couple, they moved here when they were kids, so they are bilingual. I wonder if their kids will grow up to be the same, or if they'll just understand Russian and answer in Hebrew. He is a doctor, and an officer in the IDF. Again, lots of hands-on knowledge, and I am always glad to meet people like that. Newspaper articles just don't relate happenings as well as personal experiences.

I haven't blogged in a while, but there's a good reason. I've spent the last 3 months dealing with the details of transporting myself to Israel, arriving there and getting situated. January 9th I was driven by my Chabadnik friends to JFK from whence El Al brought me to the Promised Land. On the way over, I was seated in between two Israeli women aged 30-40. For a reason unbeknowst to me, they decided that they should treat me like their toddler son for the duration of the flight. Considering that one was also babying her husband seated next to her and the other one was babying her... well her 6-month baby, I can't understand how they found the time to adjust my pillow and blanket, help me with the setting up and retracting of the food tray, adjusting my light and constantly cleaning and fixing up my space. That was a lot of mothering. Haven't had that since, ah... just a few days prior when I was at home getting mothered by my mom. Women have got to stop mothering me. Since I've gotten to Israel, several women have mothered me. Of course, I am receptive to mothering because who wouldn't be. No need to act withdrawn and macho when you're being mothered. Just let it happen.

Immediately after arrival, I took a cab to Kibbutz Nachshon, where N, one of my closest friends, was visiting his cousin. The kibbutz is located in central Israel, just 30 minutes west of Jerusalem in a beautiful, green area, close to the Green Line. Green is the operative word here. The cab driver was a religious Bukharan Jew, with a knitted kippa, and enough prayers, amulets and pictures of famous rabbis all over the interior of his cab to let the passenger know that he was not messing around. We spoke a mixture of Russian and Hebrew, and he told me about his many children and their successes and failures. He followed his family story with a solid lecture on Zionism. Impressed with his philosophy on life, I tipped generously.

In Kibbutz Nachshon, I spent quality time with N, his cousin Y, and Y's friends. Y happens to be an officer in a elite IDF unit and his friends have equally impressive resumes. The Kibbutz belongs to the Hashomer Ha'Tzair movement. That means "Young Guard" and it was one of the most socialist of the kibbutz movements during the establishment and the early days of the state of Israel. These kibbutzniks are part of the Ashkenazi elite of Israel and mainly vote for Meretz, the small socialist party left of Avoda (Labor), the main left-wing party in Israel. Clearly, their views on how to create immediate peace with their Arab neighbors aren't preventing these Meretznikim from serving in combat units. Of course, their co-believers who live in Tel-Aviv are less motivated with regard to the IDF. Kibbutzniks have a military tradition that transcends politics, and despite the fact that their profile in Israel has been falling over the last generation, they still do what their parents and grandparents did. But the rising size of other, equally militarily motivated societal sectors is diminshing the kibbutzniks' role in the IDF and in society in general to a level that is more proportionate to the population percentage they represent.

Anyways, hummus was eaten, Turkish coffee was sipped and a trip was effectuated during which sushi was consumed in a place called River, in the nearby city of Rehovot. After a few days there, N and I were picked up by my cousing D and taken to Givat Tzarfatit - a northern neighborhood of Jerusalem. The name translates into French Hill, ostensibly named after a British officer whose last name was French. There's quite a lot of places, things and situations in Israel that have a close connection to the British Mandate days. For Shabbat, as a way of observing the mitzvah of rest, D drove N and I deep in the Judean Desert, where we hiked into a canyon that houses the St. George monastary - a Greek Orthodox institution where a few crazy monks pray and take care of an impressive collection of icons brought hundreds of years ago from various Eastern European churches. The monks were interesting folk and celibate. The monastary complex is carved into a cliff and along the bottom of the canyon is a river bed that gets filled up when it rains in Jerusalem. The water runs via this same river bed to Jericho, where the local Arabs enjoy this water, thanks to a water grid built and maintained by the Israeli Ministry of Agriculture's Water Division. Israeli taxpayer money is comes in handy when providing the Arabs with modern water, electricity and telephone grids.

After our visit to the Greek monks, we drove through the remaining stretch of the Judean Desert, which is actually quite mountainous, to the Jordan River Valley and the northern tip of the Dead Sea. A beautiful view of the entire valley and of the Jordanian Mountains on the other side of the border opened up before us. I can't imagine anyone would not be impressed. The distance from Jerusalem to the border with Jordan is approximately 25 minutes. N was a bit nervous as this entire time we were in what the left-wingers of the international community of Jew-haters calls the "occupied territories." Soon, it became clear to N that the West Bank was not a closed off war zone, but rather it's primarily an open and wild place with very little population, a lot of natural beauty and lots of fresh air. It is also very very narrow.

N had to fly off to his high profile New York job in a prestigious law firm, so D drove him to Nachshon on Saturday night. I proceeded to Ulpan Etzion on Sunday morning with all my belongings in a 6500 cubic inch, red Kelty frame pack. It's great to have all your belongings in such an easily portable form. I am not looking forward to accumulating random material objects, and I am perfectly happy to continue to own next to nothing for a while to come. Anyhow, I was dropped off by my Givat Tzarfatit relatives, registered with the Ulpan staff and was shown to my room. We are three to a room here, the boys on the second floor and the girls on the third. The first floor of the building has a computer room, an audio lab, a TV room, a room with high-speed internet outlets and what not. There are several other buildings, some of them dorms, another a multi-usage space, another full of classrooms, another containing the offices of our directing staff. Jewish Agency clearly likes to put lots of young people into communal-type living situations. I guess the idea of the kibbutz in Israel is far from dead.

There are 130 students living and studying at Ulpan Etzion, and another 140 or so who are external - studying with us but living and eating elsewhere. The population is mixed, with a large number of Argentians, Brazilians, sundry South Americans, lots of British and French, and tons of Americans with a smattering of Russians, Canadians, Australians and New Zealanders. The South Americans are definitely a bit insane and enjoy partying almost nightly. There are some attractive girls as well, and there's quite a bit of sexual misbehavior going on, not exactly unexpected in such an environment.

Classes are intensive - 5 days a week from 8:15am to 12:45pm. Everyone is tested and placed into the level most appropriate. There's aleph, aleph plus, bet, bet plus, bet plus plus, gimmel and dalet. I am in gimmel, but there are some people there that are really slowing the class down. Ideally there should be even more levels, but the Ulpan doesn't have unlimited teachers adn resources so they're doing the best they can. Classes started on January 15 and end on June 15, by which point my grammar skills should be solid and my speaking should have improved significantly. Hopefully, after this program I will not need any further formal instruction, except maybe higher level grammar for reading difficult texts. The main thing will be speaking practice. I can get along with the basics of life and can understand most of what people say. However, it's difficult to express higher level ideas or to understand more complicated vocabulary. It's a process.

More details on daily life to follow.