Love at First Sight

Wednesday afternoon I was sitting in the cafeteria at Hebrew University. I had just gotten out of a class about early Protestant texts in Europe, and I had, as usual, fallen asleep. It's hard to listen to Hebrew for 90 minutes straight! I am understanding more and more, but I still get to the "overload" point before class is over and my mind just checks out. Plus, I hadn't eaten much all day, and I knew I had to get a sandwich or something or else I wasn't going to make it through 6 more hours of Arabic.

So I bought an avocado, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a wheat hoagie. The thing cost me 13 shekels. 13!! I'm pretty sure that one tomato, 1/2 an avocado, the hoagie bun, and the 3 pieces of lettuce probably cost about 4 or 5 shekels. They are really making a killing off of those things.

Anyway, I went and sat down at a table and started wolfing down the sandwich so I could go to the library and meet with my Arabic tutor. A man dressed in an army officer uniform approaches my table, sets a folded note down in front of me, and starts talking rapidly in Hebrew. I understand nothing of what he's saying, but I smile politely and nod a couple of times, thinking he's passing out invitations to some event or something. And the "I live in the West Bank" part of me feels a little nervous, wondering if he's accusing me of something (he is, after all, wearing an army uniform). After a minute or two, he asks in Hebrew, "Is everything ok?"

"Yes," I answer, "but..." I stare at him and wonder if I should tell him that I have no idea what he just said, or if I should just leave it alone because I don't really care. "You don't speak Hebrew!" he says in English.

"Well, yes," I answer, not wanting to explain that I do speak Hebrew, but not when people talk that quickly.

"I was just sitting over there and I saw you. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I've really never seen anything like it. Here is my number (and he gestured at the note). I know we don't really know each other, but I would love it if we could go out for coffee or something. I'm sorry to interrupt your sandwich."

I sat there shocked. Really. What am I supposed to do in this sort of situation? I probably smiled or nodded or said, "No, it's not a problem that you disturbed my sandwich," or something, but I'm really not sure. What I do know is that after delivering his message in both Hebrew and English, he walked away quickly, and I finished my avocado sandwich and went to the library.

Later that evening, after my Arabic class in Jerusalem (another 3 hours in a different language--but this one was actually enjoyable), I was walking the 2 blocks home from the store. It was about 9 pm and, as usual at this hour, the streets were deserted. Suddenly I heard someone walking behind me, playing music on his phone. (Palestinian shabab have this weird habit of turning music on their phones and blasting it out of the little phone speakers when they want to look cool or impress someone.) Uh-oh, here comes trouble. Luckily I was almost home and hopefully, if I ignored him and let him get in front of me, I could walk in peace.

No such luck. I heard him approach. I slowed down to let him pass. As he passed, he turned around and said "Hello" in Arabic. "Hello," I responded in Arabic, knowing from previous experience that when I say something in Arabic, people leave me alone and just assume I'm native.

No such luck with this one. "Are you a foreigner or an Arab?" he asked in Arabic. "Foreigner," I said, looked away and kept walking, hoping he would get the hint that I wasn't giving him the time of day.

"Are you married?" Oh no. It's another one. How many of these people skip straight to the marriage question? "Yes." "No you aren't." "Yes, I am." "No. You aren't." Excuse me sir? Why are you calling me out on my marriage? I knew he didn't think I was married because I was walking alone at night, so I conceded. "I'm engaged, but I'm getting married next month." That should get him to leave me alone.

"Is he Arab or a foreigner?" "A foreigner." I didn't want this guy to think that I just up and marry Arab men.

"Do you want to exchange your fiance for me?" Excuse me? Did you just ask me what I thought you asked me? No, I do not want to exchange my fiance for you. This was not flattery. This was straight up harassment. Luckily, I was a few paces away from the store across from my house. I pretended not to understand the man and kept walking.

"Walk with me," he said, reminding me of Kohor on The Testaments (you know the creeper who employs Jacob as a stonecutter). The feminist in me gets fired up. Excuse me? Don't order me around. Don't tell me what to do, and don't think you're getting some action tonight. The only action you'll get is three slaps to the face if you keep talking to me.

I walk toward the store. "Where are you going?" "I have to buy something. Bye." "Bye," he says, and turns away. Wow, that was easy. I stayed in the store for several minutes to give him time to walk away. After buying my stuff, I checked to see if he was outside. Safe. I couldn't see anyone. I opened the door and walked out. And THERE HE WAS, skulking in the shadows.

"What?!" I said in Arabic. "Walk with me," he said. "No," I stated emphatically, looking disgusted. His shoulders drooped and he turned to walk away. I stormed into my apartment building. No such luck tonight, buddy. I certainly wasn't born yesterday.

That's two in one day, people. And I didn't even change perfume or laundry detergent brands...

Living Life in Four Languages

One of my goals for my time here in Jerusalem is to come back fluent in four languages: Hebrew, Arabic, and Chinese, and of course it would be wonderful if I could still speak English. :) This has proved to be a wonderful challenge, and I have all sorts of awkward and hilarious adventures as I try to keep the four languages separate in my head. Sometimes, however, it doesn't always work so well.

A couple of weeks ago I was in the Arabic-speaking Palestinian city of Ramallah. I had ridden the bus and spoken to people in Arabic on the way there, but when I hailed a taxi I got in and started speaking to the driver in Chinese! That was awkward.

Another time I was crossing the separation wall to get into Ramallah. I wasn't sure where to go, so I asked these women (in Arabic) if they knew where the bus was to go to Ramallah. They just stared at me, uncomprehending, and one of them finally said (in Arabic) "Arabic. We speak Arabic." "I'm speaking Arabic!" I said back. I knew my Arabic was intelligible, but they just weren't expecting this white girl with red hair to speak to them in Arabic and so they thought I was speaking English or something!

Sometimes it is hard for me to know what language to speak to people: Hebrew, Arabic. Most of the time it is quite obvious, but sometimes I can't tell the nationality of the person before I start speaking to them! Like the other day when I was going to my kickboxing class. I couldn't figure out how to lock the locker (turns out you had to insert a 10-shekel coin), so I asked these girls walking by in Hebrew if they spoke English, and then asked if they knew how to lock the locker (in English). Then they turned to each other and started speaking in Arabic! "I know how to ask that in Arabic!" I wanted to shout, but I didn't. They didn't know how to lock the locker, either, so I guess it didn't matter what language I asked them in!

Another day I was on the other campus of Hebrew University (I take classes on the Mount Scopus campus, but I had to go to the Givat Ram campus, on the other side of the city and right next to where I live right now) to do some research in the library there. I asked a man in Hebrew for how to get to the library, and he walked with me there to show me the way. We exchanged small talk in Hebrew, but I was really struggling to keep pretending like I was understanding what he was saying. Suddenly, we passed someone right as we got to the library complex and the man giving me directions started talking to the other man in Arabic! "You speak Arabic?!" I asked (in Arabic), now aware that he was Arab-Israeli. "I speak much Arabic much better than I speak Hebrew!" I said, thinking of how it would have been so much less awkward for me if we had been speaking in Arabic.

A few days ago I went hiking in the forest near Jerusalem with another grad student. We knew that the hiking trails were right next to the parking lot of the Ein Kerem Hadassah hospital, but we had no idea which parking lot! So we started asking around--but couldn't seem to find anyone that spoke English. I do speak a little Hebrew, but I am always missing vital words in the conversation. For example, in asking someone where the hiking trails are, I can say, "Excuse me, do you know where the ..... is?" but unfortunately I don't know how to say hiking or trail. Yeah. Doesn't do me much good. (This happens to me in almost every conversation in Hebrew. I am missing those key verbs and nouns...which I guess is motivation for me to study harder!) Anyway, I asked one security guard (in Hebrew) if he spoke English, and he said (in Hebrew) "No." When I looked disappointed and was about to walk away, he said, "Don't worry, I speak great Hebrew! What do you need?"

Great. Him speaking great Hebrew did little for the fact that my own Hebrew skills are so minimal! My friend and I tried to explain that we wanted to go hiking. "We want to...travel...near the hospital," we said, trying to make motions like we were hiking. "You want to walk around the hospital? Why?!" he asked. "Go ahead and walk around it!"

I walked up to another security guard and asked him (in Hebrew), "Do you speak English?"

"No," he answered in Arabic.

"Oh! Do you speak Arabic?"

"No," he answered in English.

Utterly confused at this point, I just stumbled through another hand-motioning game of showing that we wanted to hike. Luckily, he knew where the trail was, and we were on our way.

And one final story: since I have to take a level test for Arabic at the end of October, much of my free time is spent studying Arabic and re-memorizing vocabulary. The bus is the perfect place to do this, but I get some strange looks from a lot of people (yes, there is a lot of discrimination in Israel between Jews and Arabs. Shocking, I know.)

I was on the bus studying a list of vocabulary words when suddenly the man next to me said (in English--he was from America but I think had moved to Israel), "You're studying Arabic?!!!" with a look of slight disgust on his face. "Yep," I answered. "Ugh," he said. "It's such a...guttural language."

Yes, well, maybe I like studying guttural languages! It's prejudice like this that inspires me to work even harder at becoming proficient at both languages. And maybe, just maybe, one day people won't have such strong feelings of disgust about either a people or their language!

And just because blog posts are always better with pictures, I'll leave you with this one.

You Are Now Entering A War Zone

I feel like a sign with this phrase on it should be posted on the door of my classroom. No, it's nothing like the war zone that currently covers much of the Middle Eastern landscape, but it's pretty bad. [I have to preface this post, however, by saying that my class actually gets along quite well, generally speaking. But 5 hours of Hebrew a day could make anyone go crazy!]

It's only natural, of course, from a group of 20 people who sit together in the same classroom for five hours a day, five days a week, in another language. This group ranges in age from 14 to 30-something, and comprises students from Italy, France, Russia, the US, Mexico, and Arabs from Jerusalem. There are Christians, Jews, and Muslims. And naturally we all have different opinions and are trying to express them in a different language. It's natural, and I think that's why they keep the ulpans (the intensive Hebrew language programs) short.

The biggest war in my class is over airconditioning. For those of you who run at a higher temperature than average, like me, you can see how airconditioning in a hot classroom for five hours would be vital. Seriously, people. I just want to die when the air conditioning is off. One day I walked out crying in the middle of class because it was so hot. I had to go to the bathroom and pour cold water all over my body for 10 minutes to cool off. It was horrible.

But for those of you who like to wear minimal clothing and keep rooms hot, perhaps you will understand the reasoning behind some people in my class wanting the airconditioning off.

I certainly don't.

Anyway, the war goes something like this: the AC is on when we come into class. Sometimes it lasts a whole hour, but usually within the first 30 minutes someone will get up, walk over to the AC unit (unfortunately it is manual), and flip the switch off.

In about 20 minutes, someone will walk over and turn it on.

Since I am usually the one dying (but many people in my class want it on), I am usually the one to turn it on. I also strategically sit right next to the AC so I can keep things under control. (Unfortunately, this also leads to requests from people farther away from the AC for me to turn it off. Seriously, people? Are you really going to ask the person who will die without the AC to turn it off for you?)

Anyway. One day after class I told my teacher, "This has got to stop. It's like a war here."

Actually, I was speaking Hebrew, and I accidentally said family. "This is a big problem. It's like a family."

My teacher: "....? (looking at me quizzically)

Me: "War. I meant war. Family, war, same thing right?"

Anyway. She told me the funniest thing. I am still laughing about it, days later. She told me that maybe I was hot because I sit in the back of the classroom and the AC blows stronger at the front. And I said, "No, it's fine when the AC is on, but when it's off the classroom is equally hot."

And she said, "Well, maybe if you sit by the AC, even after it's off your body will remember that it used to be cool and you won't feel so hot!"

Nice try. But that is perhaps the most useless solution I've ever heard, actually!

Today there was another war, but this time about what it meas to keep kosher and Shabbat. We were reading a text about percentages of Israeli Jews who believe in God, who keep kosher laws, who celebrate Jewish holidays, etc. And for some reason, a few people in my class started arguing about what it meant to keep Shabbat and kosher, and how accurate these statistics were. Cries of "Guys, this is just to help us learn Hebrew, not give us correct statistical figures" were ignored.

I just sat in the corner chuckling because I thought it was so funny.

The worst part, however, was when the 14-year-old brought up the fact that the text was talking about Israelis--but there are Israelis that aren't Jewish (they are Palestinian) and why doesn't the text acknowledge them? (You could feel the tension go up a notch in a class that houses both Israeli Jews and Israeli Arabs.) I quickly stated that this class can't even talk about kosher laws without arguing, so we probably shouldn't get into politics!

We do have some funny misunderstandings, though, that keep people laughing. I believe that open warfare won't happen as long as we can all laugh together!

Like the other day when one of the Arabs in the class was inviting us all to a class party. He said that we would go to a park and eat kabobs. And one of the girls mentioned that she didn't eat meat. "Don't worry!" he said reassuringly. "They have chicken!"

Yeah, we all laughed about that one.

And then today, as we were reading the text that caused so much disagreement, one of the other Arabs thought that the text said "Chinese" instead of "Sinai." In Hebrew only the vowels are different in the two words, but the vowels aren't written. They are both written syny. Anyway, the text said that most Israelis believed that Moses received the Torah in the Sinai, and as we were reading, she said, "Moses received the Torah in China?"

Yep. It's the little things, friends, that make life bearable at this point!

My Own Testing Center

For some reason, my experience with college campuses in the Middle East makes me feel like I am back in high school (or junior high!), but it's about 40 degrees hotter and they are speaking another language.

In my opinion, BYU has one of the most beautiful campuses in the world. The landscaping is gorgeous, there is never trash scattered throughout the halls, the bathrooms are clean and are continually stocked with toilet paper and soap, and the air is clean and cigarette free. And let's not forget my own home on campus--the JFSB, with its beautiful courtyard and the rock water fountain and the 3rd floor where I spent 80% of my life in college and the basement with its lack of wireless (and windows) and the individual desks. The kind that you could move across the floor if you wanted. The kind that I could walk into class and move the desk in front of my forward several inches and turn the desk behind me sideways so I had more room and so no one would sit behind me.

I love moveable desks.

This is not a movable desk; rather, it is a picture from my office window at BYU. Because let's be honest, thinking about mornings like these make me feel just a little bit colder. Imagination is everything when it's 100 degrees.

My classroom at Hebrew University does not have moveable desks. I am sure I will post something about the architecture at Hebrew U later, but in addition to their, umm, interesting architecture and decorating schemes the classrooms are small and are permanently set up the same way: three rows of desks, set up in a half circle, and connected to each other and the floor. The plastic chairs are orange and are nailed to metal rods that are screwed in to the floor.

The desks are about 7 inches wide and 10 inches long. Yep. Not even big enough to fit a whole piece of paper. And they are stuck so close together that there isn't enough room for a normal person to feel like s/he has enough room to breathe, let alone someone as claustrophobic as I am.

For the first few days this wasn't a problem. I sat in the back with an empty chair on each side of me. One chair was for my purse (with my laptop in it), one desk was for my book, my desk was for my notes, and the other desk was to give me space to breathe.

However, recently our class size expanded slightly and people in the class have started sitting in my chairs. The chairs that I clearly staked out with my purse and my textbook. The chairs that have "Breanne's space" written all over them.

It's kind of disturbing.

Before you go thinking that I am just overreacting (who needs three desks anyway?), let me tell you about these people that sit next to me. On the right has been 3 different people, one girl and two boys, all Palestinian college students from Jerusalem. On the left is a college-aged male from Germany. Instead of giving their names, I will just call them by nationality to protect identity. The Palestinians on my right must also feel that their personal space has been compromised, because they always put their arm on my desk. I think that all three of them have done this, but I know for sure that if either of the guys are sitting next to me, their arm will be resting on my desk, taking up about 1/4 of the space.

My 7 x 10 inch desk.

Yeah. Where's my arm supposed to go?

And then Germany, on my left, has a left-hand desk. This is great when my purse is sitting there because I have easy access. This is not so great when a person is sitting there because there is nothing between me and them, and Germany is always leaning towards me.

Yep. The queen of claustrophobia and protected personal space has Palestinian arm on her right and Germany on her left.

It's killing me.

To make matters worse, the air conditioning is controlled with an on-off switch. Which gives the students way too much power to veto the air conditioning. And half of the students in my class feel like it's "always cold" and continually turn the air conditioning off.

What's the purpose of having air conditioning if it's always off?!

So we have these air-conditioning wars. At first I tried to be a passive witness, but when it got so hot I thought I was going to pass out, I started speaking up. Usually what happens is the air conditioning will be on and someone will get cold. And they will either get up and turn off the switch or ask someone to turn it off. And after about 15 minutes I feel like I am melting out of my skin and I stand up (I sit right next to the switch for good reason!) or someone else stands up and turns it back on. 15 minutes later it is turned off again.

Every day this situation provokes arguments. "It's always so cold in here!" those wearing shorts and t-shirts (or worse, a strapless dress that stops above the knees!) say. "Put on more clothes!" I say. I'm not very sympathetic. "I can't really take anything off but you guys can always put on a sweater. It's hot in here!"

And so the battle rages. And whether the air conditioning is on or off, the teacher keeps the door closed and the windows covered with blackout drapes.

No air conditioning. 20 students crammed into a small room. Windows and doors closed. Palestinian arm on my right and Germany on my left. And 5 hours of intensive Hebrew a day.

Just thinking about it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

So today we had a 90 minute test. And right before the teacher handed it out, someone switched off the air conditioning. The door was closed, the drapes were shut, and I was supposed to take this test with Germany on my left and Palestinian arm on my right? In the heat? For 90 minutes?

No.

"Excuse me," I asked my teacher. I was close to tears, or maybe it was just sweat. "I'm so hot. I'm going to die or pass out or something dramatic. Can I go and sit in the hallway (where there is airflow) and take this test?"

She looked doubtful. Why would I want to sit on the floor in a breezy hallway when I could sit in a teeny desk in a stuffy hot classroom? "These Americans," I'm sure she was thinking. But I guess my look was desperate enough, because she checked the classroom next door.

Empty.

"You can take it in here," she said.

And guys. It was amazing. I had my own classroom, no one sitting on my right or left, and the air conditioning was on high.

It was my very own testing center. No one to kick the back of my chair (this made me crazy at BYU's testing center), no one to put their arm on my desk, and no one to turn off the airconditioning.

And you know what? I bet I got 40% higher on this test than the one I took on Thursday in the hot classroom.

I'm going to give the credit to the air conditioner.

"I think it's mosquito!"

I think we have already established the fact that I have absolutely zero drawing skills. I can draw circles (and even ovals!) with lines coming out of them for legs and call it any animal you can think of, as demonstrated by my pig drawing skills at work.

Anyway. Yesterday I was sitting in my Hebrew class and we were supposed to practice the verb "to give" by saying "I give you this [fill in the blank]" with the blanks provided to us by the teacher. She had little cards with pictures of animals, gifts, cars, etc on them.

Except me and my two partners got a whole stack of dogs, which doesn't make for very good vocabulary practice.

So the girl sitting next to me, from France, decided to take matters into her own hands and started drawing simple pictures on the back of the cards.

I thought I would help out, so I drew a cat. It didn't look much like a cat, so I wrote "meow" next to the mouth. And the Arab girl sitting on my other side wrote "cat" in Hebrew at the top.

It was sitting on my desk just waiting there while my teacher was giving instructions, and all of a sudden the French girl looked over at my cat drawing, gasped, and said in a heavy French accent, "Oh my gosh, that's a cat? I think it's mosquito!"

Yep. I laughed about that one for hours and hours.

First Day of Class

Naturally, I am behind on my blog. I still need to write a trip about my exciting adventures on the way to Israel. Don't worry--pictures of London and stories of intrigue and adventure (as well as all those DC posts!) are coming.

But I just finished my first day of classes (I have class Sunday-Thursday, Friday is like Saturday, and Saturday is the Sabbath here in Jerusalem), and naturally I feel the need to record some thoughts I have about studying intensive Hebrew in Jerusalem.

*I feel so old here. I am in one of the lower levels of Hebrew, along with recent high school graduates and those who haven't yet finished high school. I thought I would be safer by attending an ulpan in September, after school started, but I forgot that the school year starts at different times around the world. I thought maybe I was just being judgmental when I walked through the hall and thought that everyone looked like they were in junior high, but then I found out that one of the guys in my class is 14. 14!!  The rest are 18 or 19, but that doesn't make me feel much better. I'm not ready to go back to high school!

*I have long wondered how to handle harassment in the Middle East. I don't really get harassed in the States, so I never struggled with how to handle it there. But in the Middle East it is almost a given. When I lived in Jerusalem the first time it shocked me. When I lived in Jordan it angered me immensely. I felt proud that I restrained myself and never attacked anyone--I just ignored them unless it was really bad, and then I gave them "the look" (that said, you look at me one more time and I will break your nose. It worked every time). But this time I think I have figured out a solution. Instead of just ignoring them, I think I'm going to call them out on it. Like today, when these two guys were walking next to me in the hall of the university and started harassing me (in English). I'm not so used to native-sounding English harassment (I don't think they were Americans though) and, not knowing what to do, I just ignored them. But if it happens again, I think I'm going to turn to them and say, "Is that really necessary? What are you trying to pull?" or something equally brilliant. I'll let you guys know how it goes.

*I did pretty well in my class, considering that I have never actually taken a Modern Hebrew class and it was all in Hebrew. (I asked if I could test into a higher level because of my Biblical Hebrew and Arabic background and then studied every day on the Metro to get into a higher class. If I didn't, I would have to repeat the level in the Fall, and I really didn't want to do that!) My main problem is speaking, seeing as how I have never spoken Hebrew before. Today was a struggle and I thought about calling it quits (or at least dropping to a lower class level). But I just kept reminding myself that for the first day ever in a Hebrew class, I was doing pretty well!

*I have class for only 5 hours a day, so I was expecting a ton of homework. But I asked the teacher how much to expect, and she said she assigns 30 minutes to an hour each day! This was a shocker to me, since when I took intensive Arabic we did 4 hours of class and 8 hours of homework a day (and I was working 4 hours a day too!). I guess I will have to find a way to fill up all the extra time with my own homework!

*I am studying at the "Rothberg International School" at Hebrew University. Which means that students have come from all over the world to learn Hebrew here. My teacher was shocked because there are 10 Americans in my class. "10 Americans! We should call this the 'American class'! Why are there so many Americans?" The others in my class are from France, Germany, Italy, Russia, Mexico, and then a few Arabs from Jerusalem.

*My roommate (who is kindly letting me sleep on her floor while I search for an apartment) said that I should make a "Chinese-Arabic-Hebrew only" vow while I am here. It sounds a little overwhelming, but yesterday I was typing Hebrew and emailing my friend in Chinese and reading Arabic--all within one hour. My goal for this year is to increase my skills in all three languages. Does anyone think I can do it (without going crazy from the effort)?

*The littlest things have made me really happy here. Like flushing toilets, and drinking fountains, and soap and toilet paper in public bathrooms, and stores (and vending machines!) that take credit cards. It is such a contrast to my last university-in-the-Middle-East experience, and each time I see an amenity like this I get a little bit giddy. "I don't have to buy my own toilet paper? What a dream!"

*I found myself studying in the Asian Studies section of the library today. It's a strange feeling to feel comforted surrounded by Chinese books at an Israeli university...

*I was walking out of my apartment (aka the dorm room at which which my new-found friend is kindly letting me crash until I find a real apartment) the first day I got to Jerusalem and this man gave me a flyer and asked (in English) "Are you a graduate student?" When I responded in the affirmative he said, "I could tell. Where did you do your undergrad?" When I answered "BYU," he almost fell over with excitement. "Are you Mormon? I know lots of Mormons! Do you sing with the choir? I know people in the Mormon choir! There's this black guy..." "Alex Boye?" "Yeah, yeah! I know Alex Boye!"

He then proceeded to pull out his phone and prove to me that he knew several people in the choir because they were in his phone. He was shocked when I didn't know any of the several people he just named. "But they live in Salt Lake! Don't you go to church?"

I had to remind him that there are hundreds of thousands of Mormons in Utah, and there was no way I could know each one. Even after all this, he asked, "Should I tell my friends that I met you?" and asked me to tell them hi next time I see them.

Ok. Next time I see Alex Boye, I'll tell him hello from the man in Jerusalem.

Well, friends, more will come, but my first impressions are that I'm crazy, that studying Hebrew and Arabic at the same time just might kill me, and Hebrew University has a pretty nice campus. And just as a last bit of randomness-I ate a cucumber, tomato, and goat cheese sandwich today, and it was delicious. I've missed Israeli kosher sandwiches.

My Daily Commute

So I have about 100 blog posts that I want to write about. And approximately 8 days until I am in Israel with tons and tons of things to blog about but even less time. Which means, dear readers, you will be gypped of some blog posts. Sorry.

But this post will be about my daily commute. Because really, sometimes it is the most interesting part of my day.

For most of the summer I lived in Georgetown, which is right in the middle of The District. My commute to work was pretty simple: leave the house by 6:33, walk 6.5 minutes to the Foggy Bottom metro stop, run down the escalator stairs, catch either the blue or orange line to L'Enfant plaza (about an 11 minute ride), take my work shuttle to the Coast Guard building (7-9 minutes), and then walk to my building. 4 legs of the journey, 27 minutes of travel, and I'm at work.

It was great.

Unfortunately commute-wise (but fortunately living-situation wise) I couldn't stay in Georgetown forever. There came a time when I had to move on. I found a beautiful house (for a beautiful price) up in Maryland, just two miles away from a Metro stop. It was a beautiful house, a beautiful neighborhood, and a beautiful life, but naturally it changed my commute from 27 minutes to 1-1.5 hours (depending on the wait time between transfers).

My new commute went something like this: Run out of my house and down the hill to the bus stop, catch the 6:48 bus to the Wheaton metro station, run down the escalator stairs of the longest single-span escalator in the Western Hemisphere (and which was broken most days), jump on the red line metro to Ft. Totten, transfer to the green line and ride it to L'Enfant plaza, get on my work shuttle, get off at the Coast Guard building, and walk into work.

If the bus came right at 6:48, didn't have more than 2 stops for people, and only had to wait for one red light, I would get to the metro stop with enough time to run down the escalator and make the 6:59 metro--that is, if the escalator was working. Unfortunately a working escalator is quite a rare find in the Washington, DC metro, so I had to run down this thing every day.

Looking up

Looking down

Intimidating, no? Friends, this is what I faced every day. I think I lost 5 pounds running up and down those steps. It was such a great free exercise program.

Anyway, if I made the 6:59 metro, I could make it to Ft. Totten, run down the stairs, catch the green line train to L'Enfant, get on the shuttle, and make it to work by 7:48. However, if I missed the 6:59 train, I had to wait 6 minutes for the next train, and then just miss a green line train at Ft. Totten and wait another 6 minutes for the next train and then have to wait another 5 minutes for the shuttle to fill up at L'Enfant, getting me to work a little after 8.

Yep, commuting in DC requires enormous amounts of strategic planning (and a fair bit of running!).

The commute home was the same, except sometimes I walked the two miles from the metro stop to my house. The bus only comes every 30 minutes, and if I just missed it it was faster to walk.

Unfortunately, it only comes every 30 minutes in the morning, too, so if I missed the 6:48 bus I either had to wait until 7:18 or walk in the heat and humidity. It's not a bad walk, but the damage done to my straight hair just wasn't worth it to me. Because really, the choice between dealing with hair ruined by humidity all day or being late to work and having to work late to make up for it is a simple choice. I hate dealing with hair ruined by humidity.

I used to try and make the 6:18 bus, thus getting me to work 30 minutes earlier and giving me more time to study Hebrew after work before going home, but after I missed it four days in a row (and finally realized that it came at 6:16, not 6:18, which is why I missed it every day), I decided it wasn't worth it.

My commute might sound a little dreadful, but it is actually quite productive. As I am about to take off for graduate school in Jerusalem, my one focus in life right now besides work is Hebrew. I'm hoping to test into a higher level of Hebrew than I tested into at the beginning of the summer, so I bought two Hebrew textbooks and take them with me everywhere. I study it on the bus, on the metro, on the shuttle, and for an hour and a half after work before I commute home. When my building was evacuated after the hurricane last week, my Hebrew textbook was the only thing I took outside with me. :)

Commuting is also fun because of the people you meet--especially if you see them every day as you run down the escalator steps to catch the train! There are two especially quirky things about me that are memorable: my noisy shoes and my Hebrew textbook. As usual, my shoes broke a little while ago. The heel covering broke off of both of my shoes on both pairs that I wear to work, making the plastic/metal exposed bottom of my already loud shoes clank loudly against tile floors, cement sidewalks, and escalator stairs.

Especially escalator stairs.

When I run down the Wheaton escalator in the mornings, I never have to ask people to move aside so I can catch my train because they can hear me coming from the second I walk into the station! My purposeful stride is a very measured "clank clank clank," but running down the escalator sounds like "clankclunkclankclunkclankclunkclank."

At the L'Enfant plaza metro there is a shuttle coordinator that stands outside the shuttle I take to work. One morning as I passed her and said "good morning," she said, "I can always tell when you're coming because I can hear your shoes!"

Yeah. They're pretty noisy.

Anyway. In addition to my shoes, my Hebrew textbook is also somewhat of an anomaly. For some reason it is a huge conversation starter, even though me sitting on the metro with my headphones in, my concentration face on, and my face buried in a huge 500 page Hebrew textbook is not exactly the image of the most approachable person on the train, right?

Wrong. I will share three stories to illustrate my point.

One day I was coming home from work and I sat down by a woman wearing a hijab. I pulled out my Hebrew book and started memorizing vocabulary, when all of a sudden the woman looked at what I was reading, pulled out her headphones, and asked, "Are you studying Hebrew?"

I pulled my own headphones out, answered in the affirmative, and was shocked to hear her say, "I've always wanted to learn Hebrew!"

Turns out she was from Qatar, had studied at a university in Virginia, and had just graduated in international relations. Random that she wanted to study Hebrew, but very cool. We exchanged numbers and now we're friends on facebook--which means that this is the start to a very meaningful friendship. :)

One day I was standing against the wall next to the escalator stairs, trying to finish a muffin as quickly as possible before going into the metro station. I had my back to the doors to outside and I was holding my Hebrew book with one hand and my muffin with the other. I was clearly not the picture of approachability. This guy walked past me, did a double take, and stopped and asked, "Are you studying Hebrew?" When I answered in the affirmative, he somewhat too-enthusiastically said, "Me too! I study at the such-and-such place downtown! Where are you studying?"

I think he almost fell over with excitement when I told him I was going to study in Jerusalem!

And the third experience. I had just left a Nationals game that I had gone to with my coworkers. It was late at night and I was, naturally, studying Hebrew with my headphones in. The guy sitting in the seat behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Did you go to Brandeis?" (The textbook was a Brandeis Hebrew textbook). Unfortunately, this time I had to answer no, but it turns out that he had gone to Brandeis, and randomly, the guy sitting next to him had lived near Brandeis and his parents had taught there. It was like a metro reunion of me reading a Brandeis textbook, a guy who studied Biology at Brandeis, and a guy whose parents had taught there.

Crazy.

Anyway, my commute this summer has been filled with crazy stories that will hopefully one day be told. Until then, though, you can all be jealous that you don't have random strangers talking to you about Hebrew on your daily commute!