Ramallah is fast becoming one of my favorite cities (although nothing can rival Jerusalem. Not even San Francisco.) The first time I went was with Devora on a Friday, which was a huge mistake. We had gone on Friday morning, thinking that this would give us some time to see Ramallah before Shabbat started. However, we never connected the dots; the majority of people in Ramallah are Muslim, and therefore their day off is Friday. Almost nothing was open, there were very few people outside, and to top it all of, it was raining.
I went back a couple of weeks ago to get a visa for Jordan. I had tried first to get a visa at the Jordanian Embassy in Tel Aviv, but they stop issuing visas at 1:30pm, which didn't give me enough time to get to there after ulpan. They suggested I go to the consulate in Ramallah. I was a little skeptical, because the Jordanian Embassy in Tel Aviv was unable to tell me the address of the Jordanian Consulate in Ramallah. There advice was just to "ask anybody." However, not seeing a better solution, that's what I did. I got off the bus, walked into the nearest building, and asked for someone who spoke English. In less than five minutes I was on my way, with the address to the Jordanian Consulate conveniently written down for me in Arabic.
My experiences in Ramallah have all been wonderful. I've never had any problems. (However, I've also never spoken Hebrew or done something that identified me as Jewish.)
I went to Ramallah a couple of days ago for ice cream. I had spent a good part of the afternoon exploring the Underground Prisoners Museum in Jerusalem (it's very nice - I highly recommend it.) It was the day that my family would have left Israel, if they had gotten here in the first place. I was feeling pretty down, and so decided I'd go to Rukab's in Ramallah for ice cream as a pick-me-up. I ordered delicious caramel and chocolate with mini white chocolate chips ice cream, and sat down to enjoy my ice cream and my book.
Then I figured I was already in Ramallah, so I might as well take advantage of the four shekel falafel (it's 12 shekels in Jerusalem.) I also picked up some Betty Crocker cake mixes for my birthday, which I have yet to find in Jerusalem.
After walking around in circles for a good half hour, looking for the right bus station (Ramallah has four bus stations - who's idea was that?!) I asked a police officer for directions. He smiled apologetically to me, and said he didn't speak English. So I asked him for "servees Al-Quds" (roughly translates as "Jerusalem Bus.") When he realized I didn't understand a single word of his directions, he gestured to me to follow him, and he walked me directly to the correct bus station. I thanked him profusely ("shuckran! shuckran!") and hopped on my bus back home. The Kalandia checkpoint was nearly deserted, and it took me less than five minutes to get through (last time it took almost an hour.) I was soon back at my house, still appreciating the kindness of the people in Ramallah, and the delicious ice cream.
*If you came here via Google and are looking for information on the Jordanian Consulate in Jordan, here are specifics: I took Arab bus #18 from East Jerusalem. It leaves all the time, and costs 6.5 shekels. It goes directly to Ramallah from Jerusalem (about 45 minutes), but on the way back it stops at the Kalandia checkpoint where everyone has to get off the bus and go through security. It can take anywhere from five minutes to more than an hour, and make sure to bring a passport or driver's license (not a teudat zehut, as Israelis are not allowed to go to Ramallah.) After going through security, there should be another bus right outside waiting tot take you to Jerusalem. Make sure to hold onto your ticket so you don't have to pay again. The Jordanian Consulate is located on Jerusalem (al-Quds) street, up a hill, and across from the Arab National Bank. Just ask anyone for directions. :D
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
My friends do cool stuff with me (or I hate volcanoes and love Yom HaAztmuat)
The big news in my life is that the gigantic cloud of ash, which closed down European airspace for a week, also prevented my family from visiting me. They were going to come over their school vacation, and school and job schedules means they can't reschedule. I know that I had been really looking forward to sharing my life with my family ever since I got here. We're all pretty bummed. Thankfully, I have some pretty awesome friends who have been putting up with my complaining, and also trying to cheer me up and keep me occupied with other things.
We found out the day before Yom HaZikaron that they weren't going to be able to make it. I was actually on Skype while sitting in the laundry room at Hebrew University, doing massive amounts of laundry. It was one of those days where everything is too overwhelming to handle, and I had to call Devora and have her explain to me how to use the machines. While doing laundry, I ran into my friend Jayne, who said that she was going to the Yom HaZikaron ceremony at the Kotel and that I should come too. Being that I was very much in the mood for mourning, I agreed. As soon as my laundry was done, I hopped on a bus to drop it off at home. But I was running late, and at 7:45pm, I was just leaving my house. The ceremony started when the siren went off at 8pm, and I was still on King George Street. I made it to the ceremony a little late, and as a result ended up standing in a crowd of haredi men. This was great because I had lots of personal space, but not so great because I was in a crowd of haredi men. After the ceremony I met up with Jayne, and we also ran into Alanna, Rebecca and Noam, which was lovely. Not wanting to go back to an empty house, I spent the night on Devora's floor in her dorm room, which brought back many memories of missing the last bus back to Ramla.
The next morning Devora asked what my plans were for Yom HaAztmaut. Yom HaAztmaut is unique because it is the only secular happy holiday in Israel. Originally, I was waking up super early to meet my family's 5:20am flight to Ben Gurion, and then we were going to barbeque on the Tel Aviv beach all day. Since that was no longer an option, I told Devora that I was going to "sit in my room and cry all day." She told me that wasn't an option. Instead, I had a lovely breakfast with Jayne, and then went back to my house and took a nap (I had to prepare for the festivities!)
Erev Yom HaAztmaut was EPIC. First I went to a house party at Ahuva's with lots of falafel, the vegetarian response to barbecuing. We all migrated towards Ben Yehuda Street, where the party was in full swing. Lots of students from the March of the Living were there, and they were celebrating with copious amounts of silly string, shaving cream, and light up hammers. There were multiple bands playing on stages set up all around downtown, and it was clear that Jerusalem was ready to celebrate! It was a little overwhelming, so Marc and myself headed out to find some quiet. We met back up with Ahuva, Alexis and Dev just to see the first fireworks over Gan Aztmaut (Independence Park). Marc and I joined Alanna and Rebecca on their roof for the second round of fireworks around midnight.
And then the amazing thing happened. We discovered that there was a huge party happening in the shuk. The shuk where I buy fruits and vegetables, the shuk where little old ladies push their shopping carts into me, the shuk where shopkeepers yell out their daily produce prices. For one night, the shuk turned into a party. I almost didn't get to experience it, because it was 21+. Luckily, I have a college ID card that doesn't have my birthday on it, and because it was in English, the bouncer let me through.
I'm really not sure how to describe the party. It was exactly like a regular club, and yet so completely different. There was a band, speakers, and a bar set up. But yet in the next alley over, you could clearly see old vegetable boxes and such. In one alley a couple of guys were doing army drills (probably in an attempt to impress the people they were with.) The dominant language was Hebrew, and the shuk party was obviously where the Israelis went to celebrate Yom HaAztmaut. I had a blast.
After the shuk party, Marc, Alanna and myself headed over to Ben Yehuda Street for ice cream. Around 4am we decided we should probably head back to our respective houses and get to sleep, although Marc and I took a detour to sit by a fountain near my house and people watch.
I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, not feeling so great, so I ended up not going to any barbecues. Around 8pm, my doorbell rings. Not in the mood to deal with people who want donations to their yeshivas, I ignored it. And then it rang again. And again. Finally, I got up to answer it, and was greeted by Devora and Jayne holding a pint of ice cream! Chag HaAztmaut Sameach, and Happy 62nd Birthday, Israel!
We found out the day before Yom HaZikaron that they weren't going to be able to make it. I was actually on Skype while sitting in the laundry room at Hebrew University, doing massive amounts of laundry. It was one of those days where everything is too overwhelming to handle, and I had to call Devora and have her explain to me how to use the machines. While doing laundry, I ran into my friend Jayne, who said that she was going to the Yom HaZikaron ceremony at the Kotel and that I should come too. Being that I was very much in the mood for mourning, I agreed. As soon as my laundry was done, I hopped on a bus to drop it off at home. But I was running late, and at 7:45pm, I was just leaving my house. The ceremony started when the siren went off at 8pm, and I was still on King George Street. I made it to the ceremony a little late, and as a result ended up standing in a crowd of haredi men. This was great because I had lots of personal space, but not so great because I was in a crowd of haredi men. After the ceremony I met up with Jayne, and we also ran into Alanna, Rebecca and Noam, which was lovely. Not wanting to go back to an empty house, I spent the night on Devora's floor in her dorm room, which brought back many memories of missing the last bus back to Ramla.
The next morning Devora asked what my plans were for Yom HaAztmaut. Yom HaAztmaut is unique because it is the only secular happy holiday in Israel. Originally, I was waking up super early to meet my family's 5:20am flight to Ben Gurion, and then we were going to barbeque on the Tel Aviv beach all day. Since that was no longer an option, I told Devora that I was going to "sit in my room and cry all day." She told me that wasn't an option. Instead, I had a lovely breakfast with Jayne, and then went back to my house and took a nap (I had to prepare for the festivities!)
Erev Yom HaAztmaut was EPIC. First I went to a house party at Ahuva's with lots of falafel, the vegetarian response to barbecuing. We all migrated towards Ben Yehuda Street, where the party was in full swing. Lots of students from the March of the Living were there, and they were celebrating with copious amounts of silly string, shaving cream, and light up hammers. There were multiple bands playing on stages set up all around downtown, and it was clear that Jerusalem was ready to celebrate! It was a little overwhelming, so Marc and myself headed out to find some quiet. We met back up with Ahuva, Alexis and Dev just to see the first fireworks over Gan Aztmaut (Independence Park). Marc and I joined Alanna and Rebecca on their roof for the second round of fireworks around midnight.
And then the amazing thing happened. We discovered that there was a huge party happening in the shuk. The shuk where I buy fruits and vegetables, the shuk where little old ladies push their shopping carts into me, the shuk where shopkeepers yell out their daily produce prices. For one night, the shuk turned into a party. I almost didn't get to experience it, because it was 21+. Luckily, I have a college ID card that doesn't have my birthday on it, and because it was in English, the bouncer let me through.
I'm really not sure how to describe the party. It was exactly like a regular club, and yet so completely different. There was a band, speakers, and a bar set up. But yet in the next alley over, you could clearly see old vegetable boxes and such. In one alley a couple of guys were doing army drills (probably in an attempt to impress the people they were with.) The dominant language was Hebrew, and the shuk party was obviously where the Israelis went to celebrate Yom HaAztmaut. I had a blast.
After the shuk party, Marc, Alanna and myself headed over to Ben Yehuda Street for ice cream. Around 4am we decided we should probably head back to our respective houses and get to sleep, although Marc and I took a detour to sit by a fountain near my house and people watch.
I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, not feeling so great, so I ended up not going to any barbecues. Around 8pm, my doorbell rings. Not in the mood to deal with people who want donations to their yeshivas, I ignored it. And then it rang again. And again. Finally, I got up to answer it, and was greeted by Devora and Jayne holding a pint of ice cream! Chag HaAztmaut Sameach, and Happy 62nd Birthday, Israel!
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