Midway in Jerusalem

Greek Orthodox Monastery of the Cross;  Jerusalem, Israel

It is hard to believe that we have reached the midway point for our year abroad.  Already so many experiences and memories.  The home schooling is working fabulously, particularly when supplemented by local attendance at the gymnasium (high school) and after school lessons in piano and painting.  I am on target to publish my book in late summer, having attained the expected milestone.  Dear hubbie has exhausted his list of home improvement projects on the Sifnos cottage.  We are at liberty to experience the reciprocating end of home exchange stays.  We leave Sifnos in good shape for three months of suitcase living.  First on the itinerary is Israel.

And here we are in Jerusalem, already for several days, ready to celebrate Christmas by treading in the path set by Jesus.  We sense the contradictions, harmony, conflict and unity that is this community of people in Israel.

Lost our way and found friendly hospitality   

Home exchange

home exchange living room

Forever needing friendly advice with map

Well settled into our incredible home exchange apartment  in the German Colony, we strike out for the famed Mehane Yehuda souk to stock the pantry.  Along the way, we consult our city map and navigate our way past more lovely Jerusalem stone clad multi-family buildings, lush sculpture filled parks, the Jewish Theater, the President’s and the Prime Minister’s residences, and on to the souk.  Each time we huddled around the map, a pedestrian or panting cyclist stopped their own progress to inquire, “You look lost, may I help”?  Not only are we given helpful directions, but a conversation is launched and we learn of each other’s heritage and reasons for being in Jerusalem at this time.  Curiously, we are always asked if we have family or friends in Israel.  Why?  We know not.   

Mahane Yehuda souk

Once in the souk we admit that we know no Hebrew, yet find that for every vendor who cannot speak English there is one who can.  Meanwhile, we hear in the crowd a cacophony of different languages, (recognizing Arabic, French, Italian, Greek, and German). We fumble with the money system, struggling to calculate 3.8 shekels to the U.S. dollar, learning which coin or piece of paper money represents what amount, calling upon the aid of the stall vendors.  We ask the vendors to teach us how to say in Hebrew “hello, excuse me, thank you”.  We are treated to tastes not ever explored before.  We discover that here there are as many baffling varieties of hummus as one finds choice in morning cereal boxes on a U.S. super supermarket shelf.  We are gifted small treats accompanied by toothy smiles and exclamations of heavily accented, “Welcome to Israel”. 

Hookahs for sale

 

Pyramid of thyme with Gold Dome atop

Not wishing to drag heavy bags on the almost two mile return walk, we join the hoards in the bus line, consulting with waiting passengers to learn the bus system routes, time tables, and ticket payment practices.  Despite the well qualified lessons, we bungle it anyway, finding ourselves unwittingly taking an illegal free ride.  On board we meet a lovely young woman of dual U.S. – Israeli citizenship who assuages Karoline’s concern about safety aboard public buses.  She confirms that there have not been incidents in Jerusalem for many years, although, she says that her family was very worried in the 1990s when she had to rely on the bus to get to school, even when suicide bombers found these buses to be a favorite venue for their martyrdom.  Back in the apartment we lay out a picnic spread on the balcony table marveling about the chaos of the souk, the friendly helpful strangers, and the luscious food finds.

Old City of Jerusalem

Our new friend Moses 

Santa embellishes Armenian pottery

On Dellarosa Street -- you know, the one celebrated for being the path on which Jesus carried his cross to his death -- while working our way from the wailing wall and towards the Holy Sepulcher church, I stop to replace a depleted camera battery.  Gerhard, waiting and antsy to move on, occupies these moments by window shopping at a jewelry store.  Its proprietor emerges and attempts a low key friendly dialogue, trying to guess Gerhard’s nationality.  By asking for Gerhard’s help to spell out a sign “German spoken here” (in German) he lulled us into his store, offered a peppermint tea, settled us into a cozy pile of oriental rug clothed pillows, and we began to exchange stories.  The proprietor explains that he is very happy at the moment, having enjoyed a very profitable day because he had just sold three diamond and gold cross pendants to a wealthy Canadian.  He enchants us with stories about his unusual upbringing, having been sent away to board at a Greek Orthodox monastery school outside of Jerusalem where he was taught the classics along with silver craft and carpentry.  Hearing about Karoline’s exploits in making earrings at Berkeley’s bead shop, he teaches Karoline a life lesson about how one can not always rely on academics and, instead, can develop a lowly hobby, such as jewelry making, into a profitable profession.  His personal example:  he started as a private driver employed by a four star hotel catering to the rich and famous.  He would guide his clients to his jewelry atelier in their evening spare time for their exclusive *wow* jewelry purchases; them training him on how to market and sell his craftwork.  And so on.  

Sipping spearmint tea

 An hour later, feeling relaxed, I inquire about where to buy low cost beads made from an Israeli material for Karoline to craft into friendship bracelets.  Clearly, I know this is not the shop to buy them since his offers are exquisitely hand crafted pieces using the finest precious stones and silver or gold, yet he might have a tip for us?  Fast forward to two hours later and we are *hugging and kissing* friends with the artist proprietor -- having spoken with him in German, halting Greek, limited Chinese, and English, and having heard him speak with his staff in Arabic and Hebrew -- and with plans to visit him again the next time we are in Jerusalem, or, perhaps, even a few weeks hence when we both plan to be swimming in the waters around Dahab.    Lowering prices “because he had a very profitable day earlier”, he has seduced us into buying a ring, pendant necklace, and ancient Roman glass beads for me to make into gifts for my girlfriends. Furthermore, we are *gifted* more ancient Roman glass beads, (certification of authenticity provided), for Karoline’s friendship bracelets, a cashmere shawl for me, and a small jewelry box for the yet additional gift of five moonstone beads for Karoline.  The ultimate was the moment when he gently asked Karoline and me to leave the shop because he needed to have a man-to-man discussion with Gerhard.  Gerhard divulged later the gist of that discussion:  because I was exceedingly hesitant to buy the pendant necklace, the proprietor was substantially reducing the price of it to well below cost “because he could see that…bla,bla,bla…and that we had adopted Karoline, therefore, we must be “giving, kind, humble people of lesser means”…and he too is sponsoring an orphan in a Gaza orphanage…and he is gifting us part of the cost of the necklace to share in the blessings of his very profitable day, so we really must buy the necklace.”   

Moses

 His final lesson to Karoline: “When you share the joy of your success with those around you, your happiness blossoms many times more.”  We walk away from his shop in awe:  either he is the world’s very best salesman and story teller, or, he is an authentically incredible example of they way we wish everyone would be.  We are not sure, and, because he is our new friend, we really don’t care, and I believe that is the way that Moses Salhab wishes it to be.

Happy Chanukah!

The Israel Museum

Dead Sea Scrolls Center, Israel Museum

Old Jerusalem and Mehane Yahuda souk are each about one and a half miles walking distance from the apartment.  In yet another direction of similar distance sits the Israel Museum.  We spent the afternoon there, wishing we had understood its magnificence so as to have arrived far earlier.  It is here that the Dead Sea Scrolls are studied. 

Equally pleasurable to the indoor exhibit halls are the well considered garden spaces that host sculpture while subtly guiding visitors through the flow of buildings and towards the exit.  The gardens encourage a frolick or two. 

In the gift shop any number of hamsas, menorrahs, kipas, pomegranates, 

mezuzah covers and dreidels are available for sale. 

On Christmas Eve we cycle throughout Jerusalem

Christmas Eve happens to fall on Shabbat, which means no cars, buses or taxis may drive the streets.  No stores or restaurants may be open.  We took advantage of the cleared streets to join a four hour tour on bike of the city.  To get to the meeting place we had to walk two miles, and then, of course there was the return two mile walk.  I am not sure what it would be like to deal with a habitual lack of services on Shabbat, yet, for this once, we completely enjoyed the tranquility and lack of pressure to "perform". In general, from our apartment we have been able to branch out to all of the city's attractions by foot, which means that we have been walking over five miles a day, and loving it.  

Happy New Year, with wishes for peace, good health and prosperity! 

No! Day, the Pelopponese, and a Sifnos Thanksgiving

What a whirlwind of activity since the last posting, including an unexpected visit to Northern Virginia for a visit with my dad and family, (because his oncology team advised "get your affairs in order").  For every story to tell, there is too little time to tell it.  Instead, offered here are a few flashbacks with photo supports.  Enjoy!

"Oxi" is Greek for "no".  There is no Halloween or rough equivalent celebrated on Sifnos.  However, the national Oxi Day is celebrated throughout the country on October 28th.  It commemorates the 1940 day when Greek Prime Minister Metaxas said "Oxi", refusing the ultimatum of Greece's accession to Italy by dictator Mussolini, thus launching otherwise neutral Greece into WWII.  The --usually cheerful--parades in Athens and Thessolonika were ruined this year when angry citizens and military marchers turned their heads away in disrespect from the governmental dignitaries in the viewing stands.  On Sifnos, the anger is not so strongly felt, yet resignation and sadness replace it.  These are troubling, concerning, and unstable times for Grecians.  A tiny little parade of school children promenaded the length of the main town square, offering another excuse for the villagers to pause for a social occasion.  

On this day we took advantage of no Greek school and a visiting Cretan performance to soak in a long afternoon of music and dance.  We heard that the event continued into the wee hours of the morning as waves of locals freed themselves to join the gaiety.  Crete and Sifnos share a cultural reciprocation program that has generated heartfelt friendships over time.  As the Cretan musicians faded from hours of performance and too much local moonshine, the Sifniots took over with their famed poetic repartee.

Ancient death mask, encaustic painting on linen, Benaki Museum, Athens

 

Even though this tiny island has only 1,500 residents during these quiet months, the opportunities to join activities abound.  One that has occupied both Karoline's and my time has been our lessons in encaustic painting offered by a local master.  Chryssa is currently feverishly painting examples for an upcoming exhibit at the Greek consulat in London as well as painting four icons that will adorn the blessed bread box in a local monastary chapel.

Chryssa with her youth class

She also teaches adult and youth classes in a monastery cell, while somehow single-handedly raising two active boys. 

Soup baked in public oven

There was no thought of celebrating Thanksgiving since we are firm believers in 'blooming where planted'.  However, interestingly enough, our favorite potters alerted us that it is possible to acquire a turkey for roasting.  This prompted the opportunity to reciprocate goodwill for our overly occupied and productive restaurant owner and potter friends. Until this season, business demands mean they have had no time to break away.  For the chance to experience Thanksgiving they closed shop on a slow Sunday afternoon and celebrated their gratitude with us.  For me this meant three days of focused activity:  1)  buying supplies, harvesting vegetables, and cleaning the house, 2) cooking in advance, and 3) setting table for 16, last minute cooking and entertaining.  While there are turkeys raised on the island, these are reserved a year in advance for their owner's Christmas tables.  Fortunately, our favorite grocer placed a special order from Germany for our frozen one, with thermometer included.  Beets replaced cranberries in an orange-arugula salad. We skipped the sweet potatoes in favor of mashed white ones. A black-eyed pea and greens soup baked in the public oven substituted for stuffing.  And, an apple crumble was a fair exchange for lack of pumpkin for pie.  Most importantly, our friends were thrilled to be relaxing, enjoying the rare occasion of being the ones entertained.  The cigarette break between dinner and dessert on the veranda turned into a loud philosophic debate about the state of the Orthodox church in Greece.

Aeropoli in Mani, the Pelopponese

Barely into the Fall routine of school work for Karoline, book writing for me, handyman projects and manly kafeion gatherings for Gerhard, we found ourselves seizing an opportunity of a car ride through the Pelopponese.  Calm weather, no strikes and functioning ferries meant a chance to reach Athens, rent a car, and drive 600 kilometers in a four day tour of mainland Pelopponese. This is the land of independent spirit that fostered feuding clans, greedy pirates and colorful renegades in bygone days.  Today the region boasts the distinction of breeding the best military officers and most successful politicians in Greece.  Four days did not do the region justice, yet we feel fortunate to have had a taste of this dramatic countryside and colorful people. 

When not tourist season, ghost towns abound in Mani, Pelopponese

Back on Sifnos, we enjoy our local friends, including our neighbor Yannis.  Until this year we have only known him as *that guy who rides his loud tractor at midnight without lights on the car road* after his ouzo hour with buddies.  If we hear his tractor it is a reminder to us that we are staying up too late.  Now, with a bit of Greek in hand, and plenty of body language, we have struck up conversation with him.  In this season, he has the habit of popping by unexpectedly for a coffee on our veranda from which he can keep an eye on his goats grazing just beyond our goat fence.

Yannis and his 44 goats

It has taken weeks of attempted conversation to patch together his story.  We have gleaned that he took the route of many an islander and left Sifnos as a young man to build skills, have adventures, and send money home to his wife and daughter by working as a crew member aboard cruise ships.  He retired early to return to his beloved family and island, now living directly from the land, not once stepping into the local grocery store.  He raises 44 goats, 25 chickens, 4 pigs and a milk cow.  In his orchards he harvests olives, almonds, lemons, oranges, clementines, mandarins and pomegranates.  In his fields he grows barley as animal feed and a variety of vegetables to put on his table.  In exchange for our coffee and accompanying snacks, he drops off bags full of extras from his orchards, hens or vergetable garden.