Greece

*This was actually finished on Saturday, October 17*

After my trip to Nahariyya and Haifa in the north of Israel, I had one more week to go of Ulpan. My class took a field trip to the zoo, reviewed a bit, and before I knew it I had finished the final exam and was ready to go on my trip to the Greek Islands and Turkey. I had a 7 AM flight the day after Ulpan ended, a Friday, so I opted to pull an all-nighter and celebrate the end of the bane of my existence with my friends who felt similar ecstatic relief. Nir came from Tel Aviv to join in the festivities and offered to drive me to the airport. It was a good night in downtown J-town, and eventually I made it to the airport. There are so many check-points in the Israeli airport that it took a very long time to make it through, and compounded by the fact that I stood in an agonizingly slow line for the wrong airline for a good half hour, I ended up having to run through the airport to make my plane. But I made it, albeit stressed and utterly exhausted.

When I stepped out of the Athens airport at around 9 AM, after the long and discombobulating prior night, I felt refreshed. The air felt so pure and clean, with the perfect coolness to stymie my stress. The first couple people I spoke to asking for directions were helpful and reasonably friendly, and I easily made it to the bus which would take me to Claudia's house in the outskirts of Athens. Claudia is my mother's sister's friend's sister (yeah), who moved to Greece 3 years ago with her husband and two kids. She welcomed me to her home and I quickly found her to be unbelievably kind and great company. She showed me around downtown Athens, particularly the main bustling area near the Acropolis with many restaurants and shops, called Monasteraki. I was really digging the place, with it's side-by-side modern/ancient layout. Claudia explained Athens to be a place kind of caught in the middle of the upscale-Europe and old-time Middle East-esque lifestyle, where haggling is still an option. There was cool graffiti everywhere and the people seemed sophisticated and trendy. Kind of like a middle-aged, graying man, carrying a briefcase, wearing a sport coat and jeans.

I then went up to the Acropolis, where the Parthenon is located. As I ascended I was able to look out at various views of Athens, in awe of the sheer congestion of the place. The Acropolis was crowded, with various tour groups from all over the world, old couples trying to rekindle that spark, and that weird kid from America. I must have heard at least 15 different languages while I was there. There were many of the Greek-staple pillars, even off of the Acropolis; I'm not going to lie, I wasn't sure which of the buildings was the Parthenon until I asked a few people. Either way, I enjoyed the 360-degree view of the city and the incredibly ancient architecture awaiting my viewing pleasure.

I met again with Claudia, and we ate in the tightly-packed restaurant area of Monasteraki, where every plate at every restaurant looked essentially the same: very good meat on a pita. Souvlaki. Greek food is indeed very tasty, and very meaty. I must say, though, that at this point of my trip my opinion of Greek people started to diminish, having nothing to do with the fact of their goofy changing of the guard ritual (or their attire). Claudia explained that she felt like Greeks have a sort of better-than-you attitude, which I suppose makes sense given that they consider themselves the fathers of modern philosophy and democracy. And I totally got what she was saying. The waiters were impatient. The cab drivers act like they're going out of their way for you, and make sure to express their disdain for any destination that does not meet their unknown desired criteria. People weren't so inclined to give directions, and seemed almost insulted if asked whether they speak English (even if I tried in Greek). And the next morning, before my trip, I had an incredibly stressful, altogether terrible experience trying to make it to the Port of Piraeus to meet up with my tour group.

Claudia and her family live at the very end of one of the 3 central train routes, in a place called Kiffissia. At the opposite end is the Port, and I found that it would take about 50 minutes to travel from end-to-end. My itinerary said that we'd be leaving at 6:30 AM from the port, so I made sure to arrive to the station early enough, by around 5:10, which I did. Three stops in, though, the train stops for about 5 minutes and the doors remain open. Since it was so early, there was practically no one on the train, so I wasn't sure what was going on. Soon enough, the doors closed and the train heads back toward where I'd started. It's about 5:25 by now. I get off at the next station, with the time weighing heavily on my mind, looking for someone to help me. I thought of calling Claudia, but I didn't have a phone, and there wasn't a pay-phone around. The station was all but empty, with 2 security guards who didn't speak English and apparently had no concept of someone being flustered, and another clerk who was likewise not eager to help. Eventually I discerned that to get to my destination I needed to go catch a bus, get on at another station, then take another bus or taxi. The estimated time was about 1.5 hours. Definitely going to be late by this point. Scramble out of the station hoping to find a taxi, which will be expensive, but will at least get me there. But the place is dead. Eventually I find the right bus, no thanks to the unhelpful workers, and decide that I should try to call the company and see if the tour group will wait for me. Otherwise I fear I'll miss the entire tour and have to stay around Athens until my flight to Istanbul 9 days later. So I frantically, desperately, walk up and down the bus looking for A) someone who speaks English (of which there were few, and even fewer who would help) and B) someone who's phone I could borrow. I was probably looking quite defeated, when eventually a saintly man, who I later found out to be a Romanian emigrant, reached out to me and said in his broken English, "I know what's like to be alone in country you don't know." Jackpot. So he lets me borrow his phone, I call Claudia, and she calls the company and says she'll call back. The Romanian guy offers to help me get a cab when we get to the station. He's dropping all kinds of broken-English knowledge on me, like "You can never know what tomorrow come." Claudia calls back and the company is not open for another 4 hours. Then the dude's phone dies. Damn. By this point I've accepted that I'll be late, and not really sure what I'll do. The guy helps me get a cab, and he departs. It's about 6:50 by this point. The cab driver kindly offers me a cigarette, which I decline, before lighting up his own. He gets me to the port. It's the wrong gate. I frantically search for the ticket office, and they tell me there's a ferry leaving for Mykonos, the first island, at 7:30, and that I need to run to the boat. The people at the boat tell me I need a ticket, as they don't understand my situation with my travel group who'd pre-paid for my tickets. I quickly decide to get a ticket and hopefully meet up with the group where we're staying on the island. I run to the ticket office and sprint back to the ferry and get on just before it leaves. Totally out of it, but accepting my defeat, I search for someone, anyone, who speaks English (or even Spanish) and may be familiar with my travel tour. Eventually I find 3 girls from Australia and sit down at their table, exhausted. I explain a bit of my situation, and it turns out that they're on my tour. The itinerary had lied about the departure time, and I'd made it. It took me a while to accept the fact, but I was on my way. The first island, Mykonos, was awaiting.

I soon learned that there were 35 people on my tour. Of them, there were about 24 from Australia, 6 from New Zealand, 3 from Brazil (they taught me some Portuguese), 1 from Canada, and me, the lone American. The place we were staying in Mykonos was called Paradise Beach. This was a bit overstated, as my particular accommodation was little more than a large doghouse. The beach was quite nice, though. The group went to town and we quickly noticed that practically every building, every room, every tile-pattern, is a uniform blue and white. Mykonos is particularly renown for it's night-life, but I found the scenery to be quite beautiful. Unfortunately it was late in the season, so not many people were there, and I thus did not really get the whole experience of this or the final island, Ios. I did have some delicious authentic Greek food and enjoyed walking through the maze of the narrow alleyways in the downtown area, as well as appreciating the unique views while relaxing at a coffee shop. And I quickly learned that Aussies are somewhat wild, which was to be reinforced night in and night out. I couldn't, nor did I really have the urgent desire to, keep up with many of them. But they were fun, nice people.

The group took the next ferry and eventually made it to Paros. Our guide, Laura (also American), explained that Paros is the least touristy island of all we would go to. It, too, had narrow alleyways and the familiar blue-and-white color scheme. After a laborious dinner in which there were only 2 waiters working for at least 50 people, I signed up for a day-cruise with the group for the following day around Paros and neighboring Antiparos, complete with a Greek BBQ. Almost the entire group signed up, and we were cruising along the sea by mid-morning. The land about us was home to the odd building, often a church, and occasional widely-spaced groups of housing. We stopped at various places to take a swim-break from the heat, and even had the opportunity to go cliff-diving. And plus, there was unlimited wine (don't worry mommy, I was careful). Soon enough it was lunch-time, and the group feasted on an authentic Greek BBQ, including various types of Souvlaki (of course), Greek Salad (try it with potatoes), freshly-caught octopus, and sea urchin (you scrape the orange-colored inside with a piece of bread). The captain and his first-ish mate then expertly packed the material up, leaving it on the island, awaiting their next group. Laura, our guide, told a few of us that on the other side of the water from where we ate, both Tom Hanks and Jennifer Anniston own homes, apparently for their peacefulness. One more night out in Paros, and we were off to island #3, Santorini.

I'd recalled hearing bits about Santorini from my Aunt and Uncle as well as from the Will Ferrell SNL 'Lovers' skit ("Again, our bodies sluggish with goat meat"). It was hyped for it's beauty, and I soon found it to live up to it's reputation, if not out-live it. After pulling in to the port, we were taken on a transfer to the hostel where we were staying in Fira, the capital of the island. The bus went up and up around windy roads into the tops of the cliffs, upon which the towns are built. Downtown Fira was similar to the other areas we'd stayed in that there were many narrow alleyways and shops, but it was altogether a better and more lively place. Laura took us to a cliffside restaurant with a magnificently beautiful view for dinner. Out to a bar afterward, and back to the accommodation, which had gradually improved from the first place at Mykonos. The next day, I decided to rent a 4-wheeler with an Aussie friend of mine, Dana, and cruise around the island. We were issued a map, and shown that the island is in a crescent shape, with basically one congested area each in the north, center (where we were staying), and south. I'd never been on a 4-wheeler, and I immediately loved it. We were right on the street with the cars, it was easy to get around , and it went quite fast (around 50 km/hr). And I liked the little trunk that was attached to the top of the vehicle. I felt just like Sal Paradise from On The Road. And the views were just unbelievable. In the middle of the crescent sits a volcano (which unfortunately didn't erupt), and as we cruised to the south of the island we could quite easily distinguish the settlements of the north and center. We went to the beautiful Red Beach for which Santorini is particularly known, along with the equally impressive, and more beach-like, Black Beaches (2). The water at both Red and Black was very refreshing and, of course, very pretty. I parted from Dana at the southern black beach and made my way back north toward Fira, where I stopped at our accommodation for a bit. Laura, our guide, had planned a trip to Oia (pronounced EE-uh), which is known as the spot to watch the sunset. Her trip included a meal and cost money, so I decided it'd be a better idea to take my 4-wheeler, which I had rented until 10 AM the next morning, up to Oia on my own. Laura warned that it may be difficult to get back since the street isn't lit well, but I checked with the place where I'd rented and they assured me the headlight was strong. I was nevertheless a little nervous, but headed north. It took about 35 minutes to get there, and I was instantly rewarded with an amazing site from which to watch the sunset. (And the ride there wasn't too shabby either). And the sunset itself did not disappoint. Vivid colors of oranges, reds, and pinks dazzled the sky as onlookers both from land and sea fawned over the sunset in comfortable silence. Still slightly concerned about my ride back, I decided to ride back as the sun was setting, and was treated to a pink-tinted sky, illuminating my majestic journey back to Fira just enough to get back to the more well-lit road before darkness. Everyone on the tour wanted another night in Santorini, but it was time to go to the final island, Ios.

Like Mykonos, Ios is notorious for it's night-life. Unlike Mykonos, there wasn't much else to offer besides the beach, which was admittedly splendid. It was the last two nights of the tour, and the group had grown closer throughout, so the partying was quite fun. The highlight was certainly the Slammer Bar, where for the mere price of 5 Euros the customer dons a heavy-duty helmet, takes a shot, and gets hit over the head with an object ranging from hammer to stool to skateboard. I now finally understood why Greeks think they're better than everyone else (the drawback to online communication is the lack of tone, which in this case would have better indicated my sarcasm on this last sentence). With no shame, many people participated, and we all had a fun night together. The next day was spent almost exclusively on the beach, with a nice group-dinner to follow at our resort before again going out. I'd had enough getting hit over the head, though, so didn't stay out as late as many. The last day we had a late ferry back to Athens, so I decided to make the picturesque uphill trek to the downtown area where we'd been spending our nights. It, too, was a maze, but practically a ghost town, with many resorts shut down for the season. Interestingly, though, I saw many locals all going to one building, which I found out to be a school, and voting in the Greek elections.

I arrived back to Claudia's house late at night after struggling to hail a cab from the Kiffissia station back to her place, and caught up with some news and called my parents before going to sleep. The next day I went with her to the traveling street market, which was fun but not as impressive as the Shuk in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv (where I went this past weekend). I had wanted to go back downtown for a bit and walk around, but I eventually figured that I'd had enough travel woes as it were and decided to head to the airport somewhat early. Everything went swimmingly, and I was stoked to be going to Istanbul (and ready to be away from Greeks). On the plane, I read about the city from the guidebook which I'd borrowed from a friend, and my excitement grew. I could not wait. And I was not to be disappointed.

Look out for the next post about my trip to Istanbul, now easily one of my favorite cities.

I suppose the fact that apart from this past weekend I've felt there's been minimal to write about indicates that I'm settling in. Apparently I've acclimated to the kittens rummaging through garbage outside my building; perhaps the luster of the falafel joint down the street has diminished some. But hey, I almost made it through a whole picture book in Hebrew at a used book store (although to be fair it helped some that I was familiar with the story – Bambi)! Time does go by fast; it's amazing that Ulpan is in it's last week and in only a few days I'll be leaving on my trip to the Greek Islands and Istanbul which I planned what seems like so long ago.

Anyway, I am enjoying myself. Jerusalem is a great town, full of just about anything one could imagine. The downtown area is a bit far from the dorms I'm staying in, but it's well worth the 20-minutes-ish-depending-on-traffic bus-ride. Looking out the window from the gym across the street from my dorm I can see the whole city: A bustling, alive, eclectic jewel surrounding the near-ancient (who's defining 'ancient' anyway?) Old City, outlined in aging but assuredly strong walls, dotted with the beautiful gold Dome of the Rock in the middle. It's pretty amazing.

I'm doing my best to keep on top of my sports teams back home. Shout out to my parents for turning their webcam onto the TV in our living room and allowing me to watch games via skype on my computer across the world. It's a surprisingly clear picture. I set an alarm everyday at around 4:30 AM to catch the last inning or so of the Tigers games (if they start at 7 PM EDT [2 AM here]). Loving the Michigan football team. And I'm just as big a Lions fan as ever, despite the continued futility (but this one's our year! The prospect of infinite improvement awaits, and all we have to do is win one game. Beat that, every other team). On Sunday nights, we are able to go down the street to this place called the Student Center and watch their big-screen TV with their satellite. Too bad the Lions don't get much national exposure... And I was also fortunate to watch the last two rounds of the US Open, really terrific tennis. Vamos JMDP!

This past weekend was Rosh HaShana, the Jewish new year, and I just happened to be in Israel, so I reaped the benefits of having a day off from Ulpan on Sunday. Naturally I decided to travel a bit and see the country. On Thursday, shortly after class ended, I took a bus to Tel Aviv and met up with Ronen, who's old kibbutz I went to a couple weeks ago, at around 4 PM. We walked around for a bit, chatted it up, and I dropped my stuff off at his place. He went to work at around 7:15 at the Jazz Bar he manages, and I bought the travel towel I've been meaning to buy at the mall. Went back to his place and took a beautiful nap until around 11:15 before heading to his bar, where I was planning to meet my friend Nir and see the concert which was going on there. Plus, since it's his place, we didn't have to pay. It was a fun night, and I felt energized for a while thanks to my superb planning. The next morning Ronen headed up North after a mere 3-ish hours of sleep (he returned to his place at around 6:45 AM and fell to sleep on his bed with his shoes still on; I didn't ask), and I chilled on the beach and finished my book (Kerouac's On The Road [one of my new favorites, I think]), before embarking to Nahariyya, the most Northwestern point of the country, where my friend Gal lives and had invited me for Friday night holiday dinner.

Shortly after arriving and eating a bit, we met up with his cousin/friend Tom and went to the sea. Tom's sister had recommended a spot on the shore which, unlike most of the others, was not infested with uncomfortable stones but rather with smooth sand. She was right. I had a jackpot day at the beach. The water was the perfect temperature, and the waves were huge, but there was no current. We sat and ate grapes, played the guitar and joked around. It was great. Oh, and the best part, I think, was the skinny dipping. (Ask me if I'm kidding). After we'd dried off and gotten most of the sand off our bodies, we went to the border with Lebanon, about a 5 minute drive from where we were. We were actually closer to Beirut at that point than we were to Jerusalem. There was a big gate with an Israeli flag insignia guarded by some Israeli soldiers just on the other side. We were closer to the Israeli Naval ship we'd seen while swimming, and could now see the border demarcated in the water. This particular border was actually the exact spot where the two soldiers who were kidnapped by Hamas (which started the 2nd Lebanon War in 2006) were returned, dead. I found out that the third soldier who they took, who is known to be still alive and, although certainly traumatized emotionally, apparently thought to be moving toward a lucrative celebrity future, went to school with Gal and Tom. I then realized that we were in the city upon which, only one week before, two rockets were fired from Lebanon. It was another strong example of the ubiquitous and almost necessary lack of concern Israelis have over a constant potential threat. One just doesn't really feel the danger here, and, in reality, there's not much more, if any, than one could find in New York City; it's just so compact that the threat is a bit more constant. Plus, the publicity such things get make it seem more dangerous than it actually is. In either case, very interesting to see ancient and contemporary history and it's effects living side-by-side. Overall, don't worry about me, mommy.

That night we had Rosh HaShana dinner at Gal's place, which is located right on the coast. Some of his family friends came and it was overall a really nice time, not much different, if at all, from the dinner that I've done with members of my extended family at home for my entire life. The food might have been better, though. :) Afterward, we met up again with Tom, and another friend, Guy, and we all went to a dance bar and had a great time partying and chatting and meeting people and whatnot. I consequently woke up the next day quite late, and not long after, Gal drove me south to Haifa, before continuing to see his girlfriend in Tel Aviv.

I met my friend Maya in Haifa, and she showed me around the third largest city in the country, behind Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. It's rather mountainous, and Maya explained to me that there's a pretty clear socioeconomic disparity between those who live high up and those who live below. We saw the port which has been crucial to trade for hundreds of years and the amazingly beautiful Gardens of the Bahaii - a monotheistic religion which focuses on spirituality, beauty, and harmony (which was certainly evident), although we could only go down two of the stairwells to observe, as seeing the rest of the way, which leads to a temple at the bottom, requires paying for an organized tour. That night, we went to go see Tarantino's new flick, Inglorious Basterds. It was great, I think. I experienced one problem, quite large though: large portions of the movie were in French or German, and the subtitles were, naturally, in Hebrew. I couldn't do it. So Maya, so nicely, did her best to translate the subtitles and whisper them in my ear. At one point in the film a woman was translating a man's German into French. Maya was simultaneously translating the Hebrew subtitles into English. Four languages at once. My head started to hurt. Needless to say, it wasn't the ideal conditions for seeing a movie. The next day we ate at the beach with Maya's older sister, Gal, and she and I had a comfortably heated political discussion, but it didn't prevent me from enjoying the hummus and smooth breeze coming from the sea. I departed on the train at around 5:20 PM with lots to think about, feeling good about where I'm at and wondering where I'm going.

Anecdotes

The other night, Friday, I was hanging around with some friends in one of their apartments and we were playing Catchphrase. For those who don't know, it's a little mechanism that displays a word, and the person holding said mechanism is meant to describe the word without using the word itself. Kind of like Taboo, except no forbidden words.

Anyway, there were two hilarious occurrences, both involving Manuel, the 25-year-old German with a rather heavy stereotypical accent, almost like Schwarzenegger (who I know is actually Austrian). First: The topic I believe was grab bag. Manuel had been struggling comprehending various American phrases and people, and this time was no different, as he cycled through endless words/phrases he was unable to describe, until the buzzer sounded, indicating time had run out. As it did, he inquired, "Who is Ferris Wheel?"

Second: Again Manuel was passed the mechanism, and this time he came upon a word he knew. He gestured toward a friend to his left, named Shalom, with his elbow. "When we were swimming, I gave you the elbow.... The elbow." He went on to continue his motion and repeat the phrase "the elbow" (again, in his heavy accent) until time expired, at which point the flustered German announced, "the Uppercut!"

On the same night, another funny occurrence happened which no one but me seemed to notice, again involving our German friend. He had introduced himself to Ross, someone on our program, and wondered how old he was. Upon hearing he was 21, Manuel replied that Ross looks older than he is. Manuel then requested that Ross guess how old he is. After Ross' underestimation of the 25-year-old, Manuel pointed out that looking younger than you are, as he does, is much better than looking older than you are, which only seconds before he had told Ross. On top of it all, Ross quickly agreed, seemingly unaware with the rest of the group that he had just been majorly zinged.

Finally: Today, Tuesday, I went to the Shuk with my friend Daniel. While there, Daniel beckoned me to come glance at someone he thought he'd recognized. Sure enough, right in front of me, was one of my true loves, none other than Natalie Portman. She seemed to be with her parents and sister/friend and brother/friend/boyfriend, and not many around her seemed to realize who she was. I wanted to get a photo with her, but after trailing her for a few seconds I had lost the power in my legs and was unable to procure a sound from my voice box. As I watched my love slip away, I was able to snap a paparazzi/stalker-esque photo. Natalie, if you read this, please give me a second chance...

As planned, I took a bus to Tel Aviv to meet up with my friend Nir, who lives in a suburb about 15 minutes drive from the center of the city. We took the 3+ hour bus-ride to Kiryat Shmoneh, arriving at around 11 PM, and Ronen met us there and drove us to his old stomping grounds, Kibbutz Dafna. There was a party for a girl's 26th birthday, and people were sitting around with guitars and food and some drinks and having a great time, at least as far as I could discern. I say this because they, completely understandably and expected, almost primarily spoke Hebrew. I'm certainly improving from the rigors of my Ulpan course, but I really couldn't understand what was being talked about, and I for sure couldn't contribute to the conversation, for by the time I figured out what to say, which didn't happen all too often, the topic had changed. It was frustrating, but I did have a nice night.

The next day, Ronen took Nir and I to an amazing area of the river which runs through and around Dafna where he had gone many times as a kid. From the river we could see the border between Israel and Lebanon. Ronen told us about the Lebanon War in 2006, how bombs were constantly dropped around the area, coupled with monstrous explosive sounds, although no one in his kibbutz was actually hurt. It was quite riveting and humbling, coming from Huntington Woods, where the biggest threat I ever remember is when some convict escaped from police custody with a pistol when I was in 3rd grade. He was subsequently found barefoot. It wasn't surprising, then, that bomb shelters were practically everywhere on the Kibbutz. (In fact, I recently learned that every apartment/house is required to have a bomb shelter. My room is the bomb shelter for our apartment. It's reinforced a bit stronger, has an extra door, and is a bit bigger. I'm the safest. Schwing!) The river's water comes from Mount Hermon, the tallest point in Israel, where for about 2 weeks of the year people flock to go skiing. Subsequently, the water was absolutely freezing, but really refreshing. We made some food afterward, and Ronen had to go back to Tel Aviv to work at his music bar, which he manages. Nir and I explored the rest of the day and the next. The kibbutz was essentially a town. There was a store, a library, a post office, etc. Ronen had earlier explained that the former lifestyle of the kibbutz - whereby no one spent nor earned money and everyone participated in the functioning of the microcosmic world - had dissipated around 15 years ago when the government limited their funding and people started getting jobs outside the kibbutz, rather than solely participating in the kibbutz's production (Dafna produes shoes). The layout of the place reminded me a lot of where The Others live in the show LOST. That evening, Nir and I made it back to Tel Aviv, and we went out with some friends of his to a couple bars.

The busses don't run past 5:30 on Friday evening and don't start up again until about the same time on Saturday, because of Shabbat. Taxis still run, but they're more expensive, so transportation is limited, on top of many stores and restaurants being closed. It's something that needs to be taken into consideration when making plans.

I went to a soccer game with a group of people the other night. It was the first game of the season, and the local team, Beitar Jerusalem, was playing their cross-country rival, HaPoel Tel Aviv. Beitar's fans are notorious for being rowdy, and they did not disappoint. The term I heard used most often by the fans by far was Ben Zona!, which was directed at either the referee, the opposing players, or just this cursed life in general which denies the soccer fan his true desires. The first word, Ben, means son. I'll let you guess the rest. Another cheer was quite simply, Ani Soneh Poel!, translating to "I hate Poel!" Definitely no sportsmanship points to be found here! The Poel fans were really loud too and represented well. Overall, it was a sick time, but unfortunately neither team scored, which really was the worst thing that could have happened, as I wasn't particularly supporting either side.

This past Wednesday and Thursday nights in downtown Jerusalem the Beer Festival was going on, with beers from all over the world and great concerts, all for relatively cheap. The first night I actually saw a band I was familiar with, Hadag Nachash, who I'd seen in Ann Arbor when they came to perform. Unlike concerts in the United States, it was rather easy to work my way to the front. The next night we arrived too late, and weren't allowed in since it was full, so, along with my friend Uri, we spent the night making some rounds at a couple bars.

Friday was an awesome day. A lot of people had gone to Tel Aviv to chill on the beaches for the weekend, but I'd decided to stay and hang out in Jerusalem. I went downtown mid-morning and explored the area around the bustling Ben-Yehuda street. There was a lot going on everywhere I turned, with tons of shops and restaurants and people everywhere. Naturally, there were cats, but I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a group that was exclusive. The park where the Beer Festival was at was now hosting a Reggae Festival, and it was amazing. The music was terrific and the vibe was fun and hilarious. It was funny listening to the performers throw in Reggae phrases in Israeli accents, like "Good Vibrations Rasta Ya," not to mention the wild people who were jamming out, or playing with the water guns that were supplied by the festival. I had to leave early to try to catch the last bus in order to make it back to my dorm, but I ended up missing it and had to take a cab.

Two nights ago I walked with my roommate, Hannah, with the goal of making it to the downtown area where I'd been on Friday. After about a half hour, we missed our target and entered the Old City, in which we got lost multiple times among the narrow alleys and complicated infrastructure. It was cool, though. We were primarily in the Arab (or perhaps Muslim, I've heard the name may have changed) quarter, which tours and such don't generally go to. It was a bit uncomfortable being out of our element, but we met some really nice people and had some good food and hookah for cheap, and it was really interesting. At one point, seemingly thousands of people flocked together to go pray, presumably at the Dome of the Rock. We tried following, but were stopped by the Israeli police since we (apparently blatantly obviously) weren't Muslim. Throughout the alleys there were tons of children running around. For the most part it was cute and refreshing, but there were some kids who would clearly and deliberately do their best to get a look up Hannah's dress. She also got lots of looks from men and the frequent comment, which was also rather uncomfortable. Hannah suggested that the fact that hers were likely the first pair of uncovered shoulders most men had seen in public in a while had a lot to do with it. Unfortunately I didn't bring my camera, so I was only able to get one snapshot with my phone of a random cardboard box filled with baby chicks, but suffice it to say that it was a very interesting cultural experience.

Not In Kansas Anymore

So I made it. Hard to believe that it's only been two weeks. Certainly overdue for a blog update...

My man Ronen met me at the airport early in the morning and we took a bus back to his place in Tel Aviv. Despite being a little hopped up from not sleeping the previous night, Ronen made the awesome suggestion that the first thing I do upon my arrival is swim in the Mediterranean Sea, only about two blocks from his apartment. And so we did, at about 8 in the morning. Threw the frisbee around on the beautiful beach before embarking to Jerusalem to register for my program.

It was a bit of a trek, carrying all my luggage and whatnot, but eventually we made it. I quickly came to the realization, which would come to be reinforced time and again, that things work differently in Israel. The registration process was rather disorganized. I ended up waiting for a good four hours and wasn't able to get my pre-ordered cell phone until later in the week. Not to be a downer, however. Life is different here, not necessarily worse. People are warm, but not particularly receptive. For instance, cars will stop for you at a crosswalk to allow you to pass, but they'll come awfully close to you to show that they're not completely pleased about it. Also, cats are everywhere. And people, I suppose understandably, aren't too thrilled about it. But I love it! Kitties! Another thing is the security. Almost anywhere you go, guards check your bags. And before we enter any university building we have to show our student IDs.

I live in a dormitory on the Mount Scopus (named as such for it's view of the city) campus of Hebrew University in what's called the Students-Village, or Kfar HaStudentim. I'm in a five-bedroom apartment, and I've got 3 roommates. I had 4, but the last, an Israeli graduate student, Tzachy, who showed me and another roommate and good friend, Hannah, around the old city and to his favorite hummus joint (a highly debated issue), recently left to India. I've got my own room which is pretty nicely sized, and there's a kitchen and a bathroom. To save water, there are two flush buttons!

The weekend here is on Friday and Saturday, but from Sunday-Thursday I am in the Ulpan, an intensive language immersion program. It starts at 8:15 AM and goes until 1:15 PM, with 45 minutes of break-time, whence we go outside and lay around the grass under the hot sun in the middle of the nice campus. It's learning Hebrew the whole time. The material is fine, and the teachers do their best to mix the lessons up to keep it from getting tedious, but the fact of the matter is that we're learning one subject continuously, so it gets boring. Waking up early and constantly being in class reminds me a lot of high school. Bleh. It's cool, though, that I'm greatly improving in Hebrew, albeit a rather specified skill. In a more general sense, I suppose learning a language offers a special type of learning, which is good for my brain. Ish? It's also rather fascinating how many different types of people come to Israel to learn Hebrew (the Ulpan is required by the International Program that I'm on, but not exclusively associated with it). In my class alone there are Jews from France and a Far East country (disclaimer: not to say that they're all the same and lack individuality. I just don't know the dude too well), non-Jews from Spain and the U.K., and Arabs from Jerusalem.

Outside of the Ulpan, life is great. I'm meeting tons of people from all over the world, although primarily from the U.S. and Canada. The program I'm on offers activities to make our stay here more enjoyable, like a hike in the Golan that I went on last weekend, or tours of the city. There's a really nice gym that I joined right across the street (Name that quote: "I've been keeping busy... I joined a gym." Answer.) with great exercise equipment and a lot of nice tennis courts that I've been playing on with some people I met from the program. We're a bit isolated from downtown Jerusalem, so it's been a bit more difficult than I would have hoped to mingle with Israelis, but it helps that I've got friends here, who I've met up with a couple times and have met some of their friends too. It's about a 15 minute bus-ride to the center of the city. There is a bangin' falafel joint right down the street which, hard as it is to say, is even better than my beloved Pita Kabob in Ann Arbor. They fry up the falafel right in front of you and it is delicious.

So the Ulpan goes until the 24th of September. The day after, I'm flying to Athens and then going on a 9-day Greek Islands tour, then 3 nights in Istanbul. It will be a nice present for finishing. I have an advising appointment in about 10 days to sign up for classes, which start October 16.

I've been wondering a lot what I'm doing here. I spent so much time awaiting and preparing for this, and now it's finally here, and I'm thinking, "So I'm here... but why, again?" This is, I suppose, part of the whole experience, growing and whatnot. I am indeed meeting lots of people, learning about the world, and myself, and even branching out and dancing with Arabs at a Hostel in the North. So I'm okay with the wondering. I'm not worried about it, and not seeking any sort of conclusion. But it's what's been on my mind occasionally so I thought I'd share.

Oh. And I think I've decided to come home in January and February, and then go to study in Tel Aviv, rather than my initial plan of traveling around Europe during the break. It'll be fun to go to sporting events and hang out with my friends who won't be abroad and whatnot. And my family, too. What up.

Meeting up with my great friend Nir tomorrow and together going to the North to Ronen's Kibbutz, apparently within walking distance of Lebanon, for a girl's birthday party. It's located on a river. I'm really excited to meet people and see a new lifestyle.

לילה טוב חברים = Laila Tov Chaverim = Good Night Friends

Good Start

Well, I'm off. Or I've been off. Arrived to New York one week ago and it's been a great trip since. Spent some time with my lovely sisters and saw some great friends as well. It was a good place to spend my last days in America – a nice comparison point for my oncoming travels. And I was fortunate to have a really nice meal on the last night before embarking on my attempted frugal lifestyle (No, I don't mean the one my sisters and I cooked!). Left early Thursday morning and was pleased to hear the pleasant English accents on my British Airways flight.

And so I made it to England, where crossing the street and turning on a light-switch is a whole new ballgame. My great friend Chris picked me up from the airport and took me to his home in West London. It was just as I remembered it from when I visited winter break of my freshman year.

The next day, before meeting up with Jon and restoring the tripod, we went to Hyde Park, where we ate ice cream and played frisbee (yes, a very exotic experience). Jon came down from Sheffield and we wandered about London for a while. Before seeing the sites, we had a pint and met an interesting Polish fellow who was proclaiming it was his birthday. In retrospect, he most likely told us it was his birthday for a free drink. His intentions were quite clear when, after making our exit and shouting back, "Happy Birthday," he likewise replied, "Happy Birthday."

I recently read someone's declaration that if there is one word to describe American people it is "inquisitive." I wasn't sure what his intended connotation was, but apparently he is on the right track, as, after asking him what he does for a living, Pav alerted me that I ask too many questions. I'll keep it in mind, bud.

So we saw the London sites, which were terrific, and saw a lot of London one night in bussing/tubing/walking from place to place with no particular destination in mind. I then decided that we should go to Stonehenge. We weren't too sure of what to expect; after all, it is just a pile of rocks. But we pushed on through our apprehension and were very pleased with the result.

It was a really peaceful experience. The weather was nice, with a cool breeze, and we walked around barefoot on the grass which seemed able to serve as a putting green at the British Open. Just sitting around on the tranquil day, with an incredibly ancient peace of mysterious history to ponder over was a fulfilling experience. Perhaps we were teetering too far off the edge of spirituality, so we brought it over a notch with a bit of fun. All in all, certainly worth the just-under-two-hour-drive.

One more day in London today on my own. Went to a park and read some Freud. Dude's really intelligent and a great writer, but a bit predictable. Sex again, Siggy? My favorite segment of his Analysis of a Case of Hysteria, in analyzing the patient's dream: "'Where is the key?' seems to me to be the masculine counterpart to the question, 'Where is the box?' They are therefore questions referring to – the genitals." I love the use of the dash. Like a royal entrance: Dun dun dundun! – the same thing as last time!

Flight tonight and making it to Jerusalem tomorrow afternoon. Excited and eager!

Until I figure out a good, repeatable concluding statement,

Sam

Anomaly (Trial Blog for Sports Fans)

My blog will primarily be devoted to updating my travels abroad in the upcoming year. I am not abroad yet, however, and feel that it would be valuable, and (hopefully) entertaining to write about a different subject. This subject does indeed relate to my travels, though. I'm going to be gone for nearly a year, potentially slightly more. There are a lot of sacrifices I'm making in doing so. My family, my friends, school, life as I've known it for 20 years. One thing that I will miss terribly is one of my true loves - American sports - the subject of this blog, with a focus on the Detroit Pistons off-season moves (so far).

(Please forgive me: Red Wings, Tigers, Lions, Wolverines, and Spartans. I love you all like children. *Quick props to the Tigers all-stars; I'm proud that Brandon Inge got the nod he deserved. Sadly, I predict that he gets one at-bat and strikes out. I hope he proves me wrong!*)

Last season, only two games in, Joe Dumars turned his organization on it's head. I don't think even he knew what he was giving up in trading Chauncey Billups for Allen Iverson. No one could have. Obviously Chauncey was the leader of the team, living up to his nicknames of Mr. Clutch, and, the one I feel most accurate, Smooth. Boy is so smooth. But we'd hit our ceiling. Six straight years of getting to at least the Eastern Conference Championship, reaching two Finals and winning one Championship was an incredible feat, but it was clear that the era was declining.

Having a nucleus like we had stick together for such a long time and reach such success is rare. Even the six championships Jordan won in eight years were with radically different supporting casts (albeit only two). Chauncey became the foundation of this nucleus (but props to Chucky Atkins for leading us to our first 50-win season in my memory). As it were, everyone, literally everyone, on the team structured their game around Sir Smooth. With him out of the picture, there was a vacuum. He was the anchor, not only of the offensive system, but of everyone's individual game. This aspect was, I think, underestimated. Even more so, though, was Chauncey's anchoring of the defense. D was the Pistons' identity, and he was a cornerstone.

So Joe D's gamble was an even bigger one than he realized. Add in the fact that he was throwing in a score-first "me, me!" point-guard to run the once-well-oiled machine, and the odds were stacked against us. Throw in a rookie coach with minimal experience and you've got the potential for a disaster. And that is what we got. A disgraceful 39-43 record and a deserved sweep out of the playoffs. Joe was able to make the gamble with an ace in the hole, though. $$$$$. It's power. And he exercised this power by signing Benny G and Charlie V to 5-year deals. Meanwhile, we lost 34-year-olds 'Sheed (who was dunzo with the Pistons a while ago), 'Dice (easily our best player last year, deserving of a championship and in a good position to get one with the Spurs), and AI (douche). We are young, can shoot the rock, and have a couple gaping holes. But I have hope.

When Joe first took over, he brought in a couple no-names in Chucky Atkins and Ben Wallace. Pour a few more ingredients in, mix rigorously, and voila, we've got a championship contender. These two signings eerily remind me of such moves. Joe D values character and teamwork. I think that's what we're getting. Plus two pretty sick players.

Benny G is arguably the best shooter in the game. He's wetter than rain. With starter's minutes and as a focal point of an offense, it's not at all a stretch to say he'd average 30 points per game. Did you see what he did against Boston in this year's playoffs? He's got ice in his veins. Throw in a fart joke and we've got the three elements of matter in one player. We're paying him $11 M a year - no small sum. Joe thinks he's worth it. At this point I think we may have overpayed, but I don't regret it at all.

Charlie V cannot grow hair. Can you ask for a smoother player? (Quick props to the other universal alopeciatic Detroiter, the forgettable Tigers [!] pitcher Nate Cornejo). Seriously though, Chuck has the ability to put up superstar numbers, and he's done so sporadically. He can play inside and out, something which I think matches up really nicely with Rodney Stuckey, who also has superstar potential, and made it easier for Joe to give up Chauncey. Plus, I think we're getting him for a good price at $7 M per year, especially when you compare him to Toronto's offer of $10 M per year to Andrea Bargnani.

We've got two problems. One is a lack of a big man. We have one center. He is Kwame Brown. I'm not exactly down with having the quintessential draft-day bust lead us back to prominence. But when you consider that, if he starts (gasp!; curse), he'll be surrounded by Charlie V, Tayshaun, Rip, Benny G, and/or Stuckey, that's a sexy lineup. We won a championship playing 4-on-5 offense with Big Ben. Even Kwame is better than he on that end of the floor.

This brings us to the second big problem. That is the starting backcourt/bench. We're still recovering from post-Chauncey syndrome, and it's not clear what our direction is. Stuckey seems to be the man of the future, but in reality he seems like more of an off-guard than a point-man. Apparently Benny G thinks he can run the point. Rip is a player. The consistency he brings is coveted by every team in the League. Honestly, I prefer giving the reigns to Stucky at PG, putting Benny G at the starting 2-guard spot, and letting Rip thrive as the sixth man. I just hope he's cool with that. His past wouldn't suggest otherwise, but he is the oldest player on the team and arguably still in his prime, so it may be a difficult role for him to accept.

I don't love our bench. Who would? I do love our backup guards. In addition to the one of the three aforementioned studs who will be left out of the starting lineup, we've got Afflalo and Slick Willy Bynum. Maxiell needs to step it up. The rest of our bench is completely unproven, but for whatever reason I've got a feeling that our newly acquired Swede, Jonas Jerebko, will do big things. Swedes tend to do well in Detroit.

Perhaps a trade is in order. One of our guards for a big man? But can we get a legit center? Do we really want another 6-9ish rock i.e. Brandon Bass? Let's not forget that Big Ben was only 6-9, though. Maybe we can get away with it. But my guess is that, if the roster is left as is, this will come back to bite us.

If we don't move anyone, I see us getting the 4- or 5-seed, maybe making it to the conference finals, but more likely falling in the second round. With Orlando, Boston, and Cleveland all improving, I'm not so sure we've done enough. But in Joe I trust.

I will be away for the entire Pistons season. I will miss them. Hopefully I will be able to catch some of them on TV. Either way, I'll certainly be following their every game via internet.

So this was my first run as a sports columnist. Pretty cool job. I'll let you know where to send my checks to.

Anyway, if you've read this far, I appreciate it. If you're hoping for more sports talk, you may get it, but the majority of my blog will be dedicated to writing about my travels and posting pictures and commentary.

Much love.