A Visit from Losaunne

My sister Losaunne came and visited at the end of February. It was an AWESOME visit, filled with excitement, randomness, and of course awesome people who wanted to contribute to my new life view (found in Spain) that people are wonderful and nice and loving. Here are just a few experiences from her trip.

*Day 1. Losaunne arrives and, after greeting her at the airport, we take the bus back to Jerusalem (I was a mean sister. Without a license I couldn't rent a car, so I made her take public transportation). Lugging her bags through the Central Bus Station, I stop to let a group of soldiers pass by. (Now, let me say that I usually only come in contact with Israeli soldiers at checkpoints. They do not inspire warm fuzzy feelings inside of me.) I see a male soldier eyeing me and my luggage. I pull out my phone so as to pretend like I am just checking my texts so he will just walk up the stairs and not offer to help (gut reaction--I initially reject everyone's offers to help). He waits for me. I put my phone away and go to pick up the bag. He walks over to me, looks at me and motions with his head, "Are you taking this up?" I motion with my head, "Yes." And he picks up the bag and takes it up the stairs for me.

*Later that day. We go to Hebron. It's full-on initiation for my sister, who has little first-hand knowledge about "the conflict" and "the situation" in Israel and Palestine. We see the soldiers, the checkpoints, the abandoned streets, the graffiti. Luckily it is raining and there are no settlers around to throw stones at us. We go into the Tomb of the Patriarchs, first the synagoge side and then the mosque side (passing through two different checkpoints to do so). We walk into the mosque. An old Palestinian woman, all of the wrinkles on her face turned upwards into smiles, walks over to me. "Welcome," she says in Arabic. I respond in Arabic. Her face lights up. "You speak Arabic! Welcome, welcome! How is your family? What's going on in your life? Is everything going well?" I exchange similar greetings with her and we both continue on our way.

*Later that evening (I let Losaunne sleep on the bus rides) we go in to Jerusalem. It's Thursday night and the Ultra-Orthodox are making, selling, and buying Challah for Shabbat. My friend Beverli just read about the 4 best Challah bakeries in Mea Shearim, the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, and a few of us go to compare them. With the recent protests surrounding the Ultra-Orthodox community, I am especially wary of my "secularness" with uncovered hair and pants. We send Greg, the only male in the group, into a restaurant to check and see if women are allowed because only men are present. When he waves us in, several people in the restaurant volunteer their opinions on the best food. We go to the bread store, where we are also the only women (4 women and 1 guy), and several people there also tell us which breads and cookies are the best. I am shocked. My stereotypes of and fears about two groups of people, soldiers and Ultra-Orthodox, are confounded in one day.

*We visited Safat. Nothing spectacular happened there, but I took this awesome picture--one of the only good ones that I've ever taken with my ipod.

*The next several pictures are from Nablus. I was so stoked to go to Nablus because I hadn't been...it is deep within the West Bank and therefore a place where few foreigners go. And even fewer foreign girls that speak Arabic that wander around acting like natives. We passed this one guy and I heard him mutter under his breath (in Arabic): "Arabs? Or foreigners? Arabs? Or foreigners?" I knew that if I was an Arab girl I wouldn't answer him, and if I was a foreigner I wouldn't understand him. So I just didn't answer. What can I say, I'm looking more and more Arab every day. :)

On our "reconnaissance" walk around downtown, Losaunne saw this delicious smoothie shop. We ran in to take a look, and I asked for "what the guy before us just got, because it looks amazing." What we got was a blend of fruit and ice cream, with strawberries sprinkled on top. When he asked which kind of ice cream we wanted (there were only two kinds), I hesitated. "Here," he offered, scooping up a spoonful and offering it to me. I stared at the ice cream scoop, wondering how to get the ice cream from the scoop to my mouth. Noticing my hesitation, he pushed his thumb into the ice cream to lift it up a little and give me a better grip. Wondering why I had never realized that ice cream was finger food before, I picked it up and ate it. Thankfully my "health code fears" disappeared long ago...

We finally found Facebook's headquarters. It's not in California, like everyone thinks. Nope, it's actually in Nablus, deep in the West Bank.

The church over Jacob's well in Nablus. Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures of the well, but it was deep. Very deep. This is where tradition holds that Jesus asked the Samaritan woman to draw some water so he could drink.

Despite the chilly weather, I convinced Losaunne to get in the Dead Sea, just to experience the crazy floating feeling. She was a little skeptical at first, but quickly became a believer. I LOVE the look on her face in the top middle picture. "I can't believe I'm floating!"

*We went through a quick jaunt through Hezekiah's tunnel (not without first discussing the political and societal impact of the City of David and its owners on the area, don't worry). We had a full day planned, so we got to Jerusalem at 7, ate breakfast, and waited for everything to open. We were at Hezekiah's tunnel at 8:08. The first ones in, we had to wait several minutes for them to open the lower gate (inside of the thigh-deep water). A man went down in front of us and, not wanting to get his pants wet, just pulled them off and waded into the water. We politely looked away as he emerged after unlocking the gate. It was a little awkward.

*It was FREEZING cold. Seriously. You wouldn't believe it by the amount of snow that we got in February (see the picture below), but it was SO COLD. And my apartment, by some engineering magic, is about 10 degrees colder than the outside temperature. Friday I had a full day of fun planned, including watching the Jews welcome Shabbat at the Western Wall. Instead, we spent the afternoon trying to stay warm and not get rained on inside of Dormition Abbey, a cathedral just outside of the Old City. We finally gave up and ran through the rain (and swam through the streets of the Old City) all the way back to the bus station. After a bus and taxi ride, we finally got home and peeled the wet clothes off. We donned dry clothes and ran over to stand by the space heater. Three minutes later the power went out. To stay warm, I lit my stove and Losaunne stood next to the fire. It worked about as well as it looks.

*Losaunne was privileged enough to celebrate her birthday with me while she was here! Always one to think ahead, I had a stash of pitas and nutella reserved for this very purpose. While she was showering, I was making her pita cake. Nutella frosting and a peanut-butter "L" finished the product. And a mask left over from my landlord's son's birthday a day or two before I moved in (and left in the cupboard) made the whole affair extra special. Best. Birthday cake. Ever.

At the monastery overlooking Jericho

Guys. These are the longest single-span cable cars below sea level IN THE WORLD.

Losaunne discovered the deliciousness of hummus and french fries. WAY better than ketchup.

Learning how to fly.

Doesn't it look like she's hanging on that string? It was a total accident (or maybe I'm just that awesome of a photographer).

*We went to the Bahai gardens. As we walked up to the security gate, Losaunne was, as usual, chewing a piece of gum. "No gum inside," they told us, and pointed at the garbage can. After an awkward pause, they looked at Losaunne and said, "Do you have gum?" "I swallowed it," she said, and laughed awkwardly. They stared for a minute, confused, and then stepped aside. I guess normal people spit their gum out?

*The day before we went up North to the Galilee region for two days, I was still looking for a cheap hotel. I was using the internet at my friend Sahar's house because it was down (for the third day in a row) at my house. "Why don't you stay at the Mazouwi's in Nazareth?" she asked. Not wanting to impose, Sahar called them and asked for recommendation for cheap hotels in the area. "Yes, we know of a place," they said. "OUR HOUSE." These people seriously live in a mansion with their three children. And they have an empty basement apartment. "Why don't you move here?" asked Losaunne as we explored the incredible features of the house, including indoor heating and warm water. "The best part of staying here," Losaunne told me, "is knowing that when I get out of bed I'm not going to freeze to death on the way to the bathroom." I don't think it was THAT bad at my apartment...

There was a sunroof over this little hallway-room and a painting of a garden on the wall. When I woke up and walked out of my room, this is what greeted me.

*Nazareth was an interesting place to stay. It is a town of both Arab-Israelis and Jewish-Israelis, and I look more Jewish-Israeli than Arab-Israeli. Naturally, everyone was shocked when I spoke to them in Arabic. When we walked into one restaurant, I couldn't tell off the bat what the owner spoke, so I asked him, "English? Arabic? Hebrew?" He looked at me for a second, sizing me up, and then said, "Hebrew." So I struggled through an order in Hebrew, suspecting the whole time that he was Arab. Sure enough, while we were waiting for our order I heard him speaking Arabic to some of the other customers. When they offered me coffee (which I politely refused), the owner said, "She speaks Arabic!" They were all so curious to know why I spoke Arabic and SHOCKED to hear that I live in the West Bank. Yep, I know. I'm a monster.

*The first day in Nazareth we were trying to find the Mazouwi's house. I ran into a bakery to buy some cookies and ask them if they knew where the street was. Apparently the two late-teens/early-twenties (affectionately called shabab) men at the front had been talking about us, because they got really embarrassed when I greeted them in Arabic. "Why do you speak Arabic?" asked one, shocked. "Because they're Arab!" the other one said, with his tone implying, dummy! Why else would they speak Arabic? They're clearly Arab!

I'm taking it as a compliment. Basically I'm Arab now, everyone and their dog wants to help me or be nice to me, and my sister knows how to fly. It was an awesome visit. Did I miss anything Losaunne?