Second Shabbat in Israel

Friday, the 23rd, just before Shabbos.

We got to the old city. I had the address of Jeff Seidel's house, but not exact directions. I had a map, but apparently he lived on a street that was so small it wasn't on the map. We walked around for a bit, deeper into the Jewish Quarter. We figured if we didn't make it there, we'd just meet him at the Kotel (Western Wall) at 5:30, as we originally planned before we knew about the l'chaims. I asked people for the street we were looking for. Apparently, it's REALLY small. Multiple people didn't know. But we kept walking, as we had nothing better to do. Eventually I asked someone, and she pointed. It was right down there. Very close. To a point where I felt embarrassed to have asked. But we made it.

We went inside, and I was surprised at the lack of people there. I was expecting a bunch of people to be there, but it was just Jeff Seidel's family and one Rabbi. Still, there were seven of us there, so it was fine. He had a large array of drinks. I had some whiskey. First some kind I don't remember and then Jack Daniel's. I'd eaten that huge amazing lunch in Ein Kerem, so I didn't feel it. We chatted, Jeff Seidel drank a fair amount, his wife spoke about her skepticism of Obama, i.e. the incorrect Oath and then the Oath with no bible, I decided it was better to ignore it, we heard stories of their travels and all the famous people they've met. Jeff Seidel is kind of a name dropper, but he has met some really cool people. This conversation was prompted by my complimenting the awesome Rolling Stones poster above the door.

We left and headed towards the Kotel. It was my first time there since I've been here, and I was so happy to be back. I always get this amazing feeling being there. Things were in full swing by then. I'm always somewhat disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm on the women's side as compared to the men's, but I forgot about it as I got close to the Kotel and began to daven (pray) Ma'ariv ( the evening prayer). I got right in front of it, touched it, stood silently, thinking, praying, feeling. It was quite spiritual. I thought about Dad. He always comes into my mind when I'm there. I feel like he's around there somewhere.

Anyway, when we finished, we waited around for everyone to gather and someone to bring us along to Hippie Joe's. It seemed a very large group of people was heading over there. Jeff Seidel continued asking if everyone had a place for dinner, and he picked up two French guys to come along with us. Eventually, a guy named Ezra showed up. I later learned that he, too, was called Hippie Ezra. Apparently Jeff Seidel gives people nicknames a lot. He was wearing all white with a purple shawl kind of thing, and something on his head that reminded me of the olive branch wreaths given to Olympic winners, under a hooded sort of thing. He seemed...out of a different time period. Mystical. Spiritual. On some sort of a different plane.

We walked along, and he left us there. We walked up the stairs to Hippie Joe's apartment. Everyone was taking off their shoes - house rules. Hippie sign number 1, perhaps? By the door, there was a whole basket of slippers for people to take. I was fine in my stockings. I was surprised when I later noticed Hippie Joe's cousin wearing shoes.

We were told to sit down, girls at one table, boys at another. This disheartened us a bit. But we obliged, of course, our group of 7 splitting into 3 and 4. I sat next to a woman dressed in black. Hippie Joe wore all white. The woman in black, I later learned, was his cousin. Born in America, lived in Israel for 5 years, assimilated to Israeli culture, and, unfortunately, quite a racist. She started out by using the n-word. Multiple times. It was very uncomfortable. She didn't listen to our pointing out that this was rude. She told us she identified with n******. Eventually, it moved from n****** to Arabs. This wasn't any better. It turned into a very uncomfortable evening for those of us around her, as you can't help but think about that every time you look at her.

It was a very ritualistic meal. Hippie Joe, we learned, was not so much a hippie, but a Kabbalist. He explained everything he did. He talked a lot. It took quite a while for the food to come along. The food was not the point of the dinner. The point was him teaching us Kabbalah. There was some food for vegetarians, but it was somewhat slim pickins. About halfway through the meal, he wanted us to go around, say our named, and a short Dvar Torah or other Jewish moral kind of story. I couldn't think of any. I got nervous. But thankfully, I wasn't the only one, and not everyone ended up saying things.

The meal ended. We sang. Loudly. We benched (said the Grace After Meals). Also loudly. It was, all in all, a very interesting night. But not a particularly good one, at least for the girls sitting near Hippie Joe's racist cousin. I talked to the guys afterwards, and they had a bit of a better time. But it's not someplace I'd like to go back to often.

We walked home from the Old City. Thanks to my trusty map, I managed to get us there fairly easily. It took an hour and 5 minutes but didn't feel very long at all. We went to a dorm room and talked for quite a bit. It was still early; we had been expecting this to be one of those very long Friday night meals that go until 11 or 12. I think it ended closer to 9, if I remember correctly. So we hung out, talked about that experience and other things, and eventually went to bed.

The next day we had lunch at Tsipora's house. Some of my friends who had not been to many Shabbat meals before were worried it was going to be like last night. I knew that was very unlikely, and I was right. We got there (after making one wrong turn but soon figuring it out) and saw many people around. Tsipora, her husband, their five kids, six of us, and a bunch of girls, some from Hebrew U, some from other programs. They were finishing up the salad and stuff.

The food was amazing. Warmed up challah, which I ate loads of. Humus, carrots, olives, coleslaw, cucumbers, and all the little salads Israeli's tend to have. A big, main salad, which was excellent. Sweet noodle kugel, which I normally don't like, but this had Cinnamon sugar on it and was amazing. A cranberry-apple crisp, also amazing. Tsipora kept apologizing for not having more vegetarian things and asking if I had enough food, and I kept assuring her I was fine. Stuffed. Plenty of delicious vegetarian things. Her food was amazing. I'd had a feeling she'd be a good cook, and not only because of the cookies we'd made a few days earlier. I was certainly not disappointed. For dessert, there was a fruit salad type thing, which I had, even though I tend not to like fruit salad. It was better than some, probably because there weren't many types of fruit in it. (The reason I don't like fruit salad has to do with my weird, mild OCD tendencies and my hatred of mixing foods. I don't like all the different juices coming together. An orange should taste like an orange. A pineapple should taste like a pineapple. A grapefruit should taste like a grapefruit. A strawberry should taste like a strawberry, a melon like a melon (each melon separately), and a grape like a grape. I don't want some orange-pineapple-grapefruit-strawberry-melon-grape mess.) Anyway, they also had these non-dairy ice cream bars in chocolate which were quite good.

By the time we left, I was nice and stuffed and ready for my Shabbos nap. I decided I'd sleep until I got a phone call or something after Shabbos. I was expecting at least one from a friend of mine who doesn't go to Hebrew U. We had talked about meeting up that night.

It was a wonderful nap.