Eretz Jishrael

... As the title of my first Hebrew book went.

Despite warnings from people about the danger in the political situation and in staying with 'strange men' I had met on the icq, as well as the ideological questionability of 'supporting' the imperialist fascist state of Israel, I made up my mind to go there and see it all for myself in the very month of July 2001.

George Tenet had somehow managed to raise some sorts of hopes on 'peace' once again (though we, of course, know how that went ...), and my soon-to-be host assured me that it was very rare indeed that as many people died as in the incident at the delphinarium. I tried (mostly in vain) to revive some of my hibernating skills in Hebrew, calmed down my mother by showing her nice and friendly pictures of my host, agitated for internationalism and pacifism ... and off I went.

The security checks at the airports were not quite as terrifying as all those travel guides and friend's friends who had been there always had claimed them to be. (It was actually much tighter on my way back between Brussels and Gothenburg, where the official at the x-rays suspiciously unfolded my Swiss army knife and x-rayed embarrassing parts of my luggage separately.)
As I stepped out of the air conditioned airplane at Ben Gurion Airport, a moist heat hit me. It was like stepping into a greenhouse - but kind of the other way around ... The sudden humidity was stunning.

Before I could protest, my virgenous passport was ruthlessly stamped with the horrifying Israeli stamps. How can I now visit Arab countries without risking to meet officials making unnecessary trouble?

A poorer neighbourhood in Tel Aviv. Below the high building in the rear, my host's house is located. It's impossible to get lost. I really tried, but without any success whatsoever ...

In the cab from the airport to my host's place in Tel Aviv, I tried to struggle on my safety belt, but noticed to my hilarity that neither the driver nor my host (who had insisted on coming to meet me) were making any sort of attempt at wearing theirs. While I tried my best not to start laughing (I was rather tired), the driver straightened out the curves ...

My host's apartment turned out to be in worse shape than I had ever dared to imagine (spoiled as I am), despite his warnings about cockroaches and absence of vacuum cleaning skills. But when I finally saw his flatmate's room from the inside (piano, mattress, desk and then loads of paper and stuff all over the floor), it didn't really seem half that bad anymore.

One of the main reasons for my visit was my host, who can be seen on the right. Since he survives on granola and falafel, with the addition of proper food at his mom's every Friday, he seemed to think it was very interesting to watch me cook food for myself.
As the high concentration of newspapers in the room might indicate, he works at Ha'aretz.

(This is actually not the first time that my host has been unknowingly photographed and published on the internet, so he should be pretty used to it.)

My dearest little host taking a nap. Note the paper roll on the right, for fighting my host's constant flu, which made him sound interesting when he was sleeping.

Some fishing boats at the port of Jaffa, which is a nice place. Lots of cute young Arab men, who are more than willing to show you all kinds of places and ... things.

One distressing thing about being me when visiting Israel is the fact that you can't sit in peace on a bench anywhere, without more or less young men coming up to you asking for the time, cigarettes, the way, or something else ('Want to go back to my place, bouncy bouncy?'). This happened about five to eight times, and two of the objects were called Avi. When complaining about this to my host, he exclaimed, amazed, that something like that never had happened to him!
Certainly, you don't tell them you're from Sweden if they ask about that. I told most of them I was from Germany, which made an interesting Yiddish/German conversation with a nervous orthodox guy called Chaim possible.
But then, of course, you can use this condition for your own purposes. I know I have ...

As I was having dinner once with my host's family members and/or friends, Uri, who was taking care of children in youth camps over the summer, felt he absolutely had to tell a funny joke. He cleared his throat. 'What do you call it when an Arab drowns in the sea?' Pause for effect. 'Pollution.' A glance at the listeners. 'What do you call it when all Arabs drown in the sea?' Slightly longer pause for effect. 'Solution!'
Speechless, I stared at Uri while the others laughed a bit. Finally, I mumbled a bit awkwardly, that it wasn't funny. 'If you were Israeli, you'd think it was funny', Uri smiled.
Since I hadn't slept much at all the night before (for the same reason as why I had a thick layer of powder on part of my neck), I wasn't entirely sure whether I would be able to polemize against the ideological contents of that joke without destroying any furniture. So I spent most of the subsequent evening trying to calm down.

As expected, I would enraged lie awake many nights to come, imagining what I could have said.
'I know another joke, which is just as funny: what do you call it when a Jew drowns in the sea? ...' Or: 'Oh, but isn't there a word for that in German? It's Endlösung, isn't it?' Or just ask them why they didn't see that their racism is exactly the same thing as anti-semitism.

Still Jaffa. Throughout my visit I was amazed at the phantastic telephone and power lines that stretched across the sky all over the place in highly fascinating constellations.

But the problem is that the great majority of the Israelis seem to live in an illusion that everything would be just peaches if those insane Palestinians weren't making trouble all the time. One could imagine that they don't want to know why the Palestinians are 'making trouble'. The 'man on the street' is happily ignorant of the fact that the state of Israel has been an illegal force of occupation since 1967.
But there isn't really anyone telling them. And since the Israeli people don't understand exactly why all this is happening, they just want to live their lives in peace and keep their eyes closed.

Though it is great fun to use Israeli cabs (especially the mini bus versions), since they are the best way to experience the insane traffic, the budget traveller mostly has to rely on the buses.

Israeli buses can actually be more exciting than cabs, since it is possible that they contain bombs. Once in a while, you can watch uniformed officials getting on the bus to check it for bombs. If you are lucky, they don't find any.

The fare for rides on Dan buses within Tel Aviv is 4 shekels 80. So ... what do you do with the remaining 20 agorot? If you pay with four one-shekel pieces and eight pieces of 10-agorots next time, the bus driver gets angry and asks in a loud, stressed voice if it's even or not, because he apparently hasn't got the nerve to count it himself.

The old graveyard in Tel Aviv (on Trumpeldor street) is a fine place to view the sunset.

The streets of Tel Aviv are an experience for themselves. You can watch people trying to back their cars through the (downfolded) gates at a parking house on Pinsker street (the bar probably hasn't been replaced, so you can go take a look at it if you're in the neighbourhood), soldiers on leave boasting with their (admittedly rather handsome) uniforms, and pitbull terriers lying around dozing on the sidewalk on Ben Yehuda street. Or you can just let your eyes enjoy the aesthetic Middle Eastern type in general.
At night, the ultra-orthodox inhabitants emerge. (Probably because it is a bit cooler then.) The first time I noticed this phaenomenon, I was rather surprised. Especially when I saw one on a skateboard, with his talit swinging.

In Jerusalem, I got as much fodder for my peyot-fetish as I could ever wish for. Despite the embarrassing Merkin tourists I had to share the tour with, who didn't take off their hats in Christian churches, spent hours shopping souvenirs, took pictures of each other posing in front of the altar in the church of the holy sepulchre and the wailing wall, and were half-naked in general. (Well, I guess it's my own fault for taking a burshuy tourist trip ...)
The day (or perhaps morning) after I had been in Jerusalem, I departed from Israel. Safe at home in the deep woods of Orust, I could watch the ardent demonstrations of the 17th of July (in memory of Feisal Husseini, deceased owner of the Orient House and leading proponent of dialogue with the Israeli peace movement) being

The Old City in Jerusalem. Note the building in the front - the Swedish Christian Study Center - which was quite a shock to discover. And here I thought I was safe from this horrible country ...

cut off by the police, on the same streets in the Old City where I had been walking the day before, on television. Boy, did I regret I wasn't there anymore ...

The 'qualiflyer' group ... with hostesses who wake you up all the time and force you to eat.

The flight back, itself, was, as a matter of fact, not without incidents. Time of departure was the wonderful hour of 05.25 a.m., and since you should be at the airport at least three hours in advance when Israel is the subject, I thought I might wait with sleeping until I was on the plane.
As we were rolling out towards the runway, I was looking forward to finally getting some sleep. But then, all of a sudden, crew members announced that one passenger had started 'behaving very strangely', without explaining anything further. He was to be disembarked, and an extensive search of all the luggage followed, so we were delayed another hour. When we finally lifted off, I thought I could sleep at last. But far too soon the stewardess woke me up and forced me to have breakfast. Oh well, I thought, I can always sleep at home ...

The rest of the day proceeded through a haze of caffeine.

At the airport of Gothenburg, my mother and sister came to meet me and screamed at my scorched skin and the hickey on my neck.

Useful Hebrew phrases

Yeah right! -- [bechayecha!] --

Everything is going to be all right! -- [yihyeh beseder!] --

What's the matter?/What is it? (Cheeky question) -- [mah yesh?] --

So what? -- [az mah?] --

What (the hell) are you talking about?! -- [mah pit'om?!] --