I was here.

I spent four wonderful months in the Holy Land. The experience was worth the struggle of four simultaneous jobs and full credit hours for a year before I could afford it. It was worth every penny. It was worth it all. Worth it for so many reasons. Thanks for reading my blog, it has been a pleasure to share some of my joys with you.


You may see the world for its enticing tourist allure. This is different. It will permeate your thoughts forever afterward. You'll never forget it. If you have the means and a desire to go, I encourage you to GO. Forget about London, Florence, Vienna, or Moscow; forget Sri Lanka and the Caribbean. So many have spoken to me about my experience and said "I've always wanted to do that," when I know they've gone other places instead. I tell you it won't happen until you choose for it become a priority. If you have the means, GO.

Afraid to pick your way through the dangerous and foreboding Middle East? Pittsburgh is more dangerous than Jerusalem. For that matter, so is Paris. Afraid that a terrorist attack will strike when you're there? You should be more worried about a car accident, it is much more likely to happen. Don't know your way around? Join a tour group--there are many, the guides know their stuff, and you'll love traveling in a group of people you can relate to.

If you have the means and a desire to go, GO. It will be easier to get there than you think.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Accepted by most Christians as the site of Golgotha, where Christ was crucified, and the site of his sepulcher (spelled Sepulchre by our Latin-loving-Oldy-Anglish European churches). Hailed as the "most holy site in all of Christendom," thousands of pilgrims pay homage to the location every year.

Our faculty hoped we would not only tolerate, but learn to appreciate and love the faiths of others. And though it would never have occurred to us to be disrespectful, we knew that anything irreverent in one of their holy places would result in severe punishment, likely over-our-dead-bodies. But like I said, that never would have been a problem with us. Every denomination received the same quiet respect from all of us.
For myself, I felt Islam and Judaism easier to respect than the many varied branches of Christianity. My closest friends voiced similar opinions. One friend joked about wanting to write an essay entitled, "Are Mormons Muslim?" as a play on words to the common topic "Are Mormons Christian?"

For those of you who may not know, "Mormon" is a nickname for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints. We are encouraged by our church leaders to say we are members of the Church of Jesus Christ to dispel the belief that mormons are not Christian; faith in Christ and devotion to him is the center and core of our religion. At orientation I learned that for the next four months in the holy land I had a new mantra: "We aren't Christians. We're Mormons." While not changing our beliefs in any way, we hope that by making the distinction between us and what the rest of the world sees as followers of Christ. And now, having seen the difference between how Mormons and Christians interact with Muslims and Jews, I understand why. Particularly the difference between Mormon leaders and Christian clergy.

Okay, I'm coming across clear as mud, I'm sure. Sorry. I can't really explain it in words. The best example, I think, is given by Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof when he indicates the Catholic priest and says "we don't bother them and so far they don't bother us." Muslims treat the Christians in mostly the same way. If they were to ask a direct question, sure, they'd talk to you. But on the other hand, Muslims and Jews talk to Mormons much more freely. Now having said this I can think of a dozen exceptions to this example--mostly involving the difference between Jews and Jews, Muslims and Muslims, Catholics and Born-again-Christians. No matter what your religion, some people just won't socialize with you. The easiest example of this are the Orthodox Jews, who don't talk to anyone else, make eye contact with anyone else, and will walk around you as if you aren't there. Still, I'd get the same level of disdain from some Christian tourists while walking through the Christian quarter--one glance at my Mormon fanny-pack and they'd look the other way (not kidding). Once in the middle of small-talk with a preacher from Alabama who, seconds after learning I was a student from Utah, perceptibly changed his cordiality to distant formality. Contrast that to the woman who saw Mormon students reading the New Testament outside the Garden tomb and was moved to tears, crying "bless you kids!" But that's another story. For now just pretend to understand what I can't seem to explain, and I'll move on. Pfffff.

Sorry. Obviously I got carried away. The difference between Mormons and Christians is a passionate subject for me. Which brings me back to the subject I meant to discuss: Church of the Holy Sepulchre.



Basic Information:

Who originally built the church is a touchy subject, as many factions claim to have been responsible. For centuries the Church of the Holy Sepulchre has been managed by a joint collection of religions:

Greek Orthodox (mostly in charge)
The Eastern Orthodox
Armenian Apostolic
Roman Catholic
Coptic Orthodox
Ethiopian Orthodox
Syriac Orthodox

In 1555 when the church was renovated, control of the church oscillated between the factions, often through outright bribery or violence, neither of which were uncommon. In 1767 a temporary solution was reached: a territorial division of the church between the different factions. In 1852 the situation became permanent. Times and places of worship for each community are now designated and strict, though many areas are labeled "common ground."

Sadly, even this tense situation could not stop the violence, which continues to break out every so often--"in 2004 during Orthodox celebrations of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, a door to the Franciscan chapel was left open. This was taken as a sign of disrespect by the Orthodox and a fistfight broke out. Some people were arrested, but no one was seriously injured (Wikipedia)."

Many holy sites are managed the same way, including Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem (which had a fist fight between priests this Christmas after someone cleaned a part of the church that wasn't part of their jurisdiction). This situation really is no joke. But it does have some amusing results. The "immovable ladder" for instance.

My first day in Jerusalem I asked my teacher about a small wooden ladder over the door of the church that I thought made the place look rather shabby. My teacher Richard Draper said, "I wondered that myself when I first came here in the 70's." That got my attention. What did he mean that the ladder had been there since the 70's? I did some research and discovered that all anyone knows about the ladder is that it was placed on that window ledge "sometime before 1856," but no one knows how long it was there before that. Here's a picture of the ladder in 1891. You see, no one church faction controls the entrance to the church, and the ledge beneath the windows above the door are "common ground," and thus cannot be altered unless all factions agree to the change. Will they ever agree? Who knows.

In sum, the best description of the Holy Sepulchre is that it is a strange collection of shrines. Both gaudy and primitive, frequented and forgotten, humble and resplendent, antiquary and modern, all can be found within its many spaces.

RANDOM FACTS:

1. Do not underestimate the staircase. You risk your life (at least your future mobility) climbing up or down the perilous flight. Most dangerous staircase in Jerusalem. BEWARE!

2. The church has its own crest.

3. In 1808 a fire (not the first inside the church but hopefully the last) collapsed the dome, which then had to be rebuilt.

4. Constantine decreed that the church should be built.

5. I took a few slightly-used candles out of their trash cans and brought them home. Shocking! ...and now you know. I hesitate to use the word "took" as that implies that I stole them, when they were in the trash and thus unwanted. I do not, however, deny that I removed them.

6. You can worship at FOUR different calvary sites under one roof. Take your pick.

7. The "Stone of Unction" is traditionally where the body of Jesus was anointed and prepared for burial. The stone is kissed by AT LEAST a hundred different people every day. I never touched it.

Genuine Reproduction Guaranteed!

No Pradai or Prado here. (See the movie "Serendipity" for the joke)

Photo actually taken in Istanbul... but I couldn't resist posting it here.

Damascus Gate

In this picture: Muslim matriarch, and Israeli soldier sitting in the "window."



Visits to the hub of the Old City nearly always travel through Damascus Gate. The largest entrance to the city, and most traversed, it connects to the divide between the Muslim and Christian quarters of the city.


Orientation here is standard European, with North being at the top. (5 faces east, which would be at the top if we were in the mid-east... everything has an eastern orientation to them. So the Damascus gate faces slightly Northwest, if you get it.)

Flanked by fruit stands and falafel shops, shoes, clothes, hats, music, ripped off dvds, fish, sesame butter (which is really sweet and tasty), jewelry, sugar dates and pistachios, and dozens of little boys running around you. The little boys believe they are adults, but with less responsibility and thus more freedom. ATTITUDE. But just the boys--little girls are always with their mothers aunts or grandmas, often all three. I swear the boys have no supervision, though. They scamper everywhere and won't hesitate to bowl you over with their produce carts if you don't get out of their way. They command you to move, in fact. They won't budge out of your way. I'll have to post more pictures of Damascus gate from the inside with all the people and stuff, but for now--just this one of the outside-top.

Follow this link for a virtual-tour of the exterior Damascus Gate. If you do, you'll see the independent boys and carts that I mentioned, as well as groups of women who are (as always) moving in flocks.



1890


To the left side of the bridge


Israeli soldiers monitoring gate activity (No SG-1 jokes, please)


What's inside

Solve the mystery! Based on the cars in this picture, what's the date of the photo? Care to guess a year, Dad?


Friends, last day in town. The dark haired girl with the orange bag is my sweet-awesome hip roomate AMBER, whom I love to death. I love her so much she had to leave Provo when we got back just to escape me. LOVE LOVE LOVE Amber.


Another great old shot. Wish I could've seen it when it looked like this.

Inside the gate today. Need some new socks?

Outside today, from top of the ramparts. Wares are sold along every stairway.

This Way to Paradise

I went to Eden, by the way, did you know? Twice, actually. Once in northern Israel near "Tel Dan," which was...admittedly the prettiest natural spot I saw in Israel, and again in central Israel, where this sign came from. HA! Funny. Now all I have to do is go to Missouri. It was funny with all the students looking at the signs for Eden and sniggering, "wrong continent, bucko!"

East Jerusalem Backgammon

The only game I ever saw being played in the streets of the Old City, backgammon, was spied around many a corner. The men were very nice and would let the Mormon students watch over their shoulders during a game.

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I haven't felt much like doing anything lately; a bunch of personal adjustments have consumed my mental processes, and I broke my leg, had surgery, can't get around easily, etc. I just made it back to work, and should be writing some more posts soon. Good ones, too. ;)

Do Not Cross

This is typical.

Here Come the Brides

During an average week, two Palestinian brides come to the Jerusalem Center to take engagement and/or bridal photos. I'm told this is because of the beautiful landscaping and architecture that the center has.

Security asked us not to gawk at them, or to take pictures of them, or to bother them in any way. :( Sad! I wanted to. And it was very difficult not to gawk at a pretty Palestinian girl in a fluffy, fluorescent lime dress covered in rhinestones. Or neon blue, pink, or yellow. They seem to prefer bright colors.

Note: I stole these pictures from Bridget's Jordanian blog. The little girl in each picture is Miriam, her daughter.

Money Lenders

These are our money lenders! Recommended by the center, we all get our shekels, dinars, dollars, and Egyptian pounds from these guys. Small exchange rates. Trustworthy. Aladdin (pronounced Allah-deen)is the white haired man. He owns the establishment, "Aladdin's Money Changers." Extremely friendly and talkative, he'll even offer you fruit if you really talk to him. He has posters for the Utah Jazz behind his desk, as well as bumper stickers for the U of U (which he says he only keeps for business.) He loves BYU. Why wouldn't he, we bring business to him like mad. Still, he does have posters that say "my daughter and my money go to BYU." Very fun.

The guy in the striped shirt was my favorite. I don't remember his name, which is sad, but I always tried to go to him--he'd tell me jokes while he counted.

Believe it or not, I still have a fake-money business card with Aladdin's picture on it where George Washington should be. The heading reads, "in Aladdin we trust."



In this picture: Ashley Eskelsen (going on a mission to Budapest soon,) and Carlee Painter.

FOLK DANCE

First things first, skip about forty seconds into the first track and be transported outside music shops in the Old City. I know music can trigger memories, but when I heard this I was flooded with all the scents and stresses of the city. My shoulders unconsiously tensed and I became alert, but I smiled! I felt among friends again, and I was picturing myself rounding a corner to Damascus Gate with some sage bread in my hand--geez, I'd forgotten about that stuff. Man is it tasty.

For those of you who don't know, I'm a member of my University's folk dance club. I'm on a dance team, and I take loads of classes, from Chinese to Hungarian. My favorite style has long been Israeli, if you can believe that. Since long before I ever thought I'd travel there, actually. I love it. Why? I think its because it is the closest representation of they way I like to dance--and the reasons why I dance. With Israeli dance I feel joy, energy, grace and power, and worship. And unlike Ukrainian, Scottish, or American clogging, Israeli feels natural and human. I searched everywhere for a traditional Iraeli-folk dress, but couldn't find one. Ah well. So I thought I'd post about the dancing that I saw while I was there.

First, a note to the music. I found "The Sabras," a band which seems to be the Israeli version of the Beatles. I haven't been able to stop humming "aleinu shalom alechem," since this morning. I've been laughing as much as I can, but I'm still listening. "Yerushalyim Shel Zahav," is the famous song "Jerusalem of Gold," by the way. I learned it in my Hebrew class--forced to listen to Barbara Streisand sing it, actually. "Ehab Tawfik" is currently famous in Egypt. Good Hebrew music was harder to find than Arabic, dash it all. Unfortunately I couldn't find anything good on project playlist. :P

If your ears can't stand the noise any longer, listen to "Ma Navu." It's beautiful. Hebrew at it's best. The English the words mean, "How beautiful on the mountains are the steps of the messenger bringing tidings of deliverance, bringing tidings of peace." LOVE IT.

Back to the dancing...

While we stayed in Kibbutz Yotvata on our way to Egypt a band played for us during dinner, and afterwards they taught us simple dances. It was rather bland, but novel to most everyone. Mildly fun. I had a better time dancing with the Torah in the streets during Hanukkah (with Israelis, I might add.) Dancing joyfully with the scriptures--I know a dozen seminary teachers who might encourage that.

I'm not sure I mentioned, but every Friday sundown at the Western Wall during the Shabbat welcoming ceremony CROWDS of Jews dance in circles, singing as well. Teenagers especially. Repetitive patterns and formations, hands joined in a ring of friendship, smiles wan and broad--the girls huddled in the back of the women's courtyard, respectfully far enough away from the worshipers at the wall, but singing and dancing sweetly all the same. Respectful.

The young men were...boisterous. That's putting it mildly. Mosh pit? Almost. More like mosh-circles or chains that start on the far plaza and move closer and closer to the men's courtyard. They sway, they sing, they yell, and they'd smile bigger than most teenagers are capable. Full of energy. Full of emotion. But still doing the teenager thing, hanging out together. Hanging out at the wall, arms around shoulders, tzitzis from their tallit hanging from beneath shirttails--dancing.

I caught notice of their clothes the first time I went and dressed similarly the next. I wanted to join. I had to borrow some clothes from other center girls, but I found some long-sleeved black tee that worked okay, and a skirt conservative enough to blend in. Or so I hoped. The next Shabbat at the wall, I was terrified. I didn't want to offend them. Would they even let me in their circle? There's no etiquette for intrusion. How was I supposed to do this? I inched forward, hovering at the fringes of their circle, trying to pick up on the melody enough to mimic it. Incredibly reluctant, I was too afraid to make a move. Just before I was about to back away some girls behind me moved in and swept me with their momentum. I joined hands with a dark-eyed girl and a red head. Their hands were warm.

I only stayed in the circle two minutes, but I recalled my experience with them months later; I'd heard of a poetic girl who'd written, "I walked to the wall and touched it, and it touched me back." I smiled and thought to myself, The wall didn't touch me, but they did. I remember edging out of the circle after the song was over. A girl called out, "Rachel!" and I turned around only to see another Rachel answering her call. I grinned, although she had not called me. Life's quirks are often surprising. My parents never knew when they gave me the name Rachel that I would love Hebrew culture and study it. They couldn't have known. But I don't think it was a coincidence. Not really. And what luck that as "Rachel Mildenstein," I was mistaken for Jewish often enough. A fish salesman on Ben-Yehuda street even made a bet that I was a jew from Norway. No kidding! He lost five shekels when I told him I was American.

Again, back to the dancing.

The young men at the wall were...boisterous. That's putting it mildly. Mosh pit? Almost. More like mosh-circles or chains that start on the far plaza and move closer and closer to the men's courtyard. They sway, they sing, they yell, and they'd smile bigger than most teenagers are capable. Full of energy. Full of emotion. But still doing the teenager thing, hanging out together. Hanging out at the wall, arms around shoulders, tzitzis from their tallit hanging from beneath shirttails--dancing.

I know I've heard my teachers say over and over "Americans don't dance." But I didn't really understand that truly, we don't. Community dancing just doesn't translate into American suburbia. The suggestion would probably wouldn't meet with friendly reactions either.

When I went to a synagogue on Shabbat (did I talk about that? Somebody please tell me if I haven't, and I'll write that up POST HASTE, you'd love hear about it)someone in the congregation was a groom, getting married the next day. The men's side of the partition shouted and vigorously danced in a large circling snake, their arms around each others shoulders. I saw connections to mormon baby blessings, actually.

Cultural dances follow holidays and celebrations: national, family, and religious. All cultures. (Except perhaps Americans. Haha.)

Last summer I saw a college dance troupe of Israeli's from Netanya. They were fantastic, despite the Barbi dance. In Jerusalem I saw a poster for El-Fonoun, a Palestinian folk troupe. They were putting on a concert and I wanted to go, but realized we'd be in Jordan while they were performing. I never mentioned it to anyone and I bet I was the only one who'd noticed. I'd scribbled the name on a slip of paper so I could try to find tickets. That scribble helped me find a picture of them online--looks like it would have been a good show.

I never did get to see any Palestinians dancing, though I've heard of dances in Bethehem's square. I found pictures of that too. That would have been something to see, I believe.

Also, I sadly do not have pictures of dancing at the Western Wall. Cameras are prohibited there during Shabbat, and unlike many of my JC counterparts who sneaked pics anyway, I observed their rules. So no, I have no good photos. I tried tracking some down the internet, but could only find dancing on Jerusalem Day. Still, I guess it's better than nothing.

Listen to the music, even if all you do is scan to choruses. Imagine something for me. Or if you remember the words of Porthos the Pirate on Three musketeers, hear the music and say,

"Ah. A lively tune. I'm inspired to dance!"

More on Modesty

The Orthodox-Jewish perspective.


Photos taken in Mea Sharim, Jerusalem.

Syrian Hijab

OPEN THIS IMAGE IN A NEW WINDOW TO VIEW FULL SIZE. PLEASE.
"Adventures in Syria" is blog much like mine--a mormon lady recording her experiences abroad. (http://bridgetpalmer.blogspot.com) Bridget Palmer, the author, is featured here with some of her Syrian friends--yes, she's the blue eyed one. Anyway. She posted this picture on her blog and I recognized all of them but four from Palestinian/Jordanian women (I don't think I saw any native Egyptian women while I was there, now that I think of it). So while the caricatures are "Syrian" in nature, I saw these too, and it's the best way I can think to show you. The rest of the pictures are all of Palestinian women.

"Manto Sport" was by FAR the most common. Believe it or not, "Hijab sexy" was everywhere too. Kind of took you by surprise, especially the first three times you'd see it. Note the knee-high boots as well. I'd bet every Israeli and Palestinian 20 year old girl has a pair of those boots. I was tempted by a couple pair, actually.

What is Hijab? To quote Wikipedia:
Hijab or ħijāb (حجاب) is the Arabic term for "cover" (noun), based on the root حجب meaning "to veil, to cover (verb), to screen, to shelter." In some Arabic-speaking countries and Western countries, the word hijab primarily refers to women's head and body covering, but in Islamic scholarship, hijab is given the wider meaning of modesty, privacy, and morality.

And no, I don't know how to pronounce "hijab." Any help on that would be great. Isome things I learned: head coverings needent be black or drab--I saw many sparkly-pink head scarves, robin-egg blue, and other bright colors. Also, beauty and modesty are linked. REALLY. I had several discussions with Jerusalem Center friends about how ALL of us noticed and believed that the more modest the clothing, the prettier the girl. Women wearing head scarves were often breathtaking--I'd catch myself doing double-takes. The difference was apparent: if you want to make yourself prettier, alter your modesty. The changes will alter your soul and shine in your countenance. Americans could learn a thing or two from these beauties. I know I did.




Note #1: "Puppeteer" in the bottom corner is the artist.
Note #2: "Does My Head Look..." is a book about a Palestinian-Australian girl who chooses to wear traditional garb to school.

PETRA, Jordan 9 BC - 40 AD

On 07/07/07, July 7th of last year, they announced the "voted" for NEW seven wonders of the world. I hear that the Egyptian government was so upset about the pyramids not making the cut that Khufu's pyramid now has an honorary "8th" position. Good grief. As if the pyramids could lose their mystique and people would stop going to see them. Anyway, I noticed that PETRA is a seven wonder now. I thought I'd write a sketch about when I went there myself.


Here's the basic skinny on Petra, according to the 7 wonder site:

On the edge of the Arabian Desert, Petra was the glittering capital of the Nabataean empire of King Aretas IV. Masters of water technology, the Nabataeans provided their city with great tunnel constructions and water chambers. A theater, modelled on Greek-Roman prototypes, had space for an audience of 4,000. Today, the Palace Tombs of Petra, with the 42-meter-high Hellenistic temple facade on the El-Deir Monastery, are impressive examples of Middle Eastern culture.

My skinny: Walk first through a skinny canyon and then poof, the place opens up to the famous "treasury" and there's tons to look at. Still an ongoing archaeological site, Petra is a national-parkish place that takes more than an hour to cross on foot. Arches, Capitol Reef, Moab, Goblin Valley--any of those places are similar in weather, red rock, and dust. The difference? Two, really. One, the eye-catching things at Petra are man made, while the Utah's are natural; two, southern Utah has breathtaking things all over the place, and Petra's ONE glory is the treasury. At least the treasury is so awesome that it's the only thing you need to be in awe. You'll walk around for hours see a bunch of ruins that are AMAZING...as far as ruins go (trust me, I've seen a lot of ruins,) and be impressed by a few things, like the odd swirly colored rocks. Also, it's a great place to find those cool souvenir camelbone necklaces. The Nabateans really were "masters of water technology" as the above paragraph mentioned; they even made raingutters to keep water from dripping off the canyon walls and onto the streets.

The heading photo for my blog is a diagonal cut from the "treasury" of Petra--the famous part--and if you look carefully at the urn, you can still see all the bullet holes in it. Some local chaps thought there was gold hidden up there (or so rumor has it,) and so they'd target practice on the urn to see if they could break it. (Insert eye roll here.)

Coolest things about Petra:

1. The scenic pictures, Jordanians included.
2. Camels everywhere.
3. Chariot ruts in the stone streets through the canyon.
4. Playing the Indiana Jones theme on my "iClaudius" iPod and sharing w/friends.
5. Pretty red rock w/color swirls that even geologists don't understand.
6. The chance to be in a canyon again. YES. Comfy, homey feeling there.
7. Talking to Tim about random musicals like Umbrella's of Sherbourg and anything that Sondheim has written, and discussing the contrast between Alfred Hitchcock's black and white and colored movies. This is where I really got to know Tim, who was a very quiet person that I'd tried to talk to before but with no success. Tim has good taste in movies and musicals. In fact, later he let a group of us watch "Sweeney Todd in Concert" that he had on his laptop--I'm now addicted to the "Johanna" song, and familiar with all the music. Thanks, Tim.
8. Everyone had a good time, no mishaps, and we all smiled and laughed.
9. Karey and Mike having to hoist everyone in our group 8ft in the air so we could get into the "Monastery" at the top of Petra that you have to hike 40min to get to. Come to think of it, I owe Karey brownies, actually--I better get on that.
10. Declining to ride a horse because I thought talking to Tim was more rare.
11. The picture-proof that I was THERE! WAH Haaa!
12. Realizing that the sunset-feature on my camera pulled the rosy color from the rock more than the plain. (see example)
13. Finding a grasshopper that would have scared my sister Melissa silly. Freaky! (Don't look Budds. It's black and yellow.)
14. Talking about "colored stones" the way Gadzooks the bear does in the Easter Bunny claymation movie when Sunny tells him that the eggs are really colored stones, so that Gadzooks wont eat them. "What does Gadzooks want with colored stones?"
15. Debating whether or not a rock formation looked like an Easter Island head. See picture below.
16. Wondering whether the Nabateans were related to the Anasazi. Check out the "indian dwellings," you'll know what I mean.
17. Thinking about swirly rocks and have "I'm doodles, and I'm Sw

Okay. Here comes the parade of pictures. I'm sorry there are so many, but at least I'm not writing a ton, eh? Believe it or not, I have more than twice this many. Be glad I'm not posting more.

In the pictures with me: The red head my arm is around is Shannon. We hung together for the first 45 minutes. Lance Evanson and Mikelle Laker are posing by the gorge. Rebecca Redd and I are showing off our Indi hats. Tim is walking ahead of me through the canyon as we were leaving, during our Soundheim discussion. I don't remember any other people other than the Arab dude whose name I sadly do not know. Drum roll...


































P.S. The last picture is what's REALLY inside the door of the treasury. No grail, no knight, and no really really cool "leap of faith" test. But of course not. That was all destroyed in the early 40's when that stupid Nazi chick took the grail past the seal. DUH. This is all that's left. Tragic. ; )