Art of Conversation

Jerusalem is having a festival of lights, where artists have created nighttime installations throughout the Old City using various types of projections, lasers, and fiber-optic effects. I approve of public art, so I visited one of the sites, where they have illuminated the inside of a cave to look like an aquarium. Here we have a deep-sea diver:
As I was taking this photo, a group of parent-free Arabic-speaking boys sidled up to me. After they figured out that I spoke English, this exchange ensued:

them: How are you?

me: I'm fine.

them: F*ck you? [with strong interrogative intonation]

me: No, I don't think so.

They really need to work on their game.

Conversation Starters

I have written about how much I like my Vibram Five Fingers shoes in the past, and I have noted that they are a great way to make friends, as they provide ample opportunity for conversation. They have been earning their keep in Jerusalem. Not only are they providing me with a tactile sense of the varieties of stone that make up the Old City (here my feet are enjoying a Byzantine mosaic floor), but they have facilitated conversations with all the people you might want to meet in Jerusalem:

Pilgrims - As I was exploring Zedekiah's Cave, an ancient quarry that is thought to be the source for much of Jerusalem's stone, I noticed a fellow explorer looking at a member of Israel's feral cat population. I had seen the cat earlier - or rather, she had seen me and had made an aggressive noise that I have never heard from a domestic cat, so I steered clear. We talked about her kittens, who were playing around one of the lights illuminating the cave, when the lady noticed my shoes and called her friends over. Turns out they were a group of Mennonites on a pilgrimage. Some of them were originally from Canada - near Winnipeg - but now live in Texas. When I spoke to them, they asked if I was a Mennonite. I took this as confirmation that I had succeeded in choosing sufficiently modest wardrobe choices for Jerusalem. If Mennonites think I look appropriate, then I'm A-Ok.

Soldiers - In order to get to the Western Wall, you have to go through a security checkpoint staffed by soldiers with very large guns. When one of them noticed my shoes, he called all his friends over to check them out. One asked if he could take a picture, and when I said "sure!" (I'm going to disagree with the guy with the machine gun?), all five of them whipped out their cell phones to get a snapshot of my feet. I have to say this encounter took on an erotic quality that I am still struggling to define. The female soldier among them led me through the scanner and said "Don't mind them - they get so bored here."

Rabbis - As I stopped to look at my guidebook outside the Davidson Archaeology Center, I heard a man say "Rabbi! Come look at these!", "these" being my shoes. The Rabbi chatted with me, joked that my "English is very good for an Israeli", and soon revealed that he and his followers are from Austin. A conversation about Texas Tech football soon ensued. Normally, I avoid conversations on that topic, but this was not to be missed.

Tel Aviv

I've spent the last week in Tel Aviv at a film studies conference. I had a fine time, and since it was a small conference, I had the time to really get to know a number of bigwigs in the field, so it was certainly a professional success. But the real boon was in anecdotes:

The conference began with a welcome from the Rector of the University, who announced that he likes movies, but doesn't approve of 3D because he thinks it's a gimmick, and further, he's a mathematician who deals with many more dimensions every day, so he finds this obsession with the third dimension old hat. I was dazzled at the inappropriateness of this, and only hoped that the next speaker might up the ante. Indeed, he was followed by the Dean of Arts, who did not disappoint. She welcomed us by remarking on how terrible it is that our conference was at the same time as the International Student Film Festival, taking place elsewhere in the city, as this meant that we couldn't attend the films, and the students couldn't come to our papers. I should note that they have organized it this way for many years, but it's always good to start on a negative note.

Anyhoo, the conference was the usual combination of scholarship - some interesting, some ill-advised. The crowd possessed a remarkable capacity to make every paper somehow about the fractious nature of Mid-East politics. Some found this irritating, but I thought it was quite fun to watch. What was especially fun was the reception hosted by the University at the home of a big-time donor. The place was amazing, adorned with multiple chandeliers and erotic portraits of the lady of the house. Here is one of the more discreet examples:

The Rector was in attendance, and was dressed like a mafioso, with a grey suit, black shirt, and a white tie. He looked like Paulie from The Sopranos.

The house was full of objets d'art from around the world, including a display of sculptures and tiny bottles of booze in the guest bathroom. I was impressed at the Canadian content. Also, I don't know the provenance of the gentleman with the spear, but I enjoy telling myself that he is a Conquistador, so his position alongside the totem pole suggests an interesting commentary on the history of the New World.

As I was admiring the chandelier illuminating the main staircase, I had the good fortune to look down to the basement, where I noted the presence of three enormous sculptures of penguins who appear to be having a picnic. There may have been more down there, but I was afraid of what might happen if I were to sneak downstairs. Israelis are very serious about boundaries.

The entertainment for the evening was provided by a recent graduate of the University's music program, who began by playing selections from Fiddler on the Roof. This was astounding to the conference participants, who had a hard time dealing with the postmodernism of sitting in a garden in Israel, listening to an American musical about the trials of Russian Jews. I should note that it appears the young violinist was performing without irony. I could not have been more delighted.

Magnum

My local grocery store employs an army of bag boys and girls who carry your groceries to your car. I approve of this practice because it provides lots of employment, but sometimes it leads to awkward moments as I make small talk on the way to my car. The other day an older gentleman was helping to load my canvas bags of kale, tofu, and geriatric dog food into the car when our conversation about the weather turned to conversation about where I am from. I said "I'm originally from Canada, but I was living in Atlanta last year." His eyes brightened as he said "I've always wanted to go to Canada. I've never been." I replied with something like "There are lots of really beautiful places." Then he leaned in a bit too close and said in a hushed tone "If I went, I'd have to bring my Magnum 300." For my readers who are not gun-literate, the Magnum 300 is a huge hunting rifle. It's the kind of thing you might need in Jurassic Park. I realized that there are probably lots of people who think about holiday destinations in terms of what kinds of animals they can kill when they get there. I jumped in my car and sped away.

Flumen Segne

It took me a whole year to get around to it, but today I had my first trip to the famous Texas Tech Leisure Pool. It was constructed last year in an effort to attract students to the university. What kind of students? Students who make choices about which university to attend based on the availability of party pools. This makes me sigh, but since I have no chance of beating them, I was persuaded by my friend Michele to join them. She invited me to join her in the Lazy River, a circuitous canal with a rather powerful current, on which one floats in an inner tube. This, along with the always-busy hot tub, are the principle attractions of the Leisure Pool. Michele came by to pick me up, and quickly informed me that her husband, who is teaching himself Latin for fun (that's the kind of student I want to have, less so the party pool kind, but I digress), had informed her that in Latin, lazy river is flumen segne. We agreed that we were glad to know this, and that this is what we will be calling it from now on.

I had a pleasant time floating around, and acquired my first sunburn in years.

More Lubbock Surprises

One of my plans for the future is to teach a course on film and dance. I even have an article coming out in the fall on dance in silent German cinema. Thing is, I know very well that my knowledge of dance studies lacks both depth and breadth, so I have long dreamed of collaborating with a dance professor who will steer me in the right direction. So, when I learned that the Dance program at Texas Tech was hosting the first annual Flatlands Dance Festival, I figured it would be a good chance to see what the dance faculty were up to. The performances were all by students in the dance program, so I have to admit that I braced myself, as contemporary dance is one of those things that if not done extremely well, can be truly agonizing to watch. Some arts are more forgiving - if a mediocre pianist is playing in the background, it doesn't make you want to run for the door, whereas bad dance can be excruciating. I steeled myself and set out to investigate.

Upon arrival, I was amused to see that since much of the audience consisted of the friends and family of the performers, almost everyone had brought a bouquet to give to their favorite dancer, allowing me the near-magical experience of sitting in an audience full of flowers. The girl who took my ticket asked if I was there to see anyone in particular, and was delighted when I said no, since this indicated a level of community interest in dance. I'm always happy to represent the world of dance fans.

The performances themselves were impressive, with a level of inventiveness and wit that I had not expected. Another pleasant surprise from the Lubbock avant-garde.

Shootin' and Dancin'

I've written before about how Lubbock is party central - never has my social calendar been so full. I just got home from my third party of the weekend, which was a Jane Austen themed garden party, officially called "Drinking with Mr. Darcy." The host was the same colleague who held the birthday bash with the "adult" piñata, so you get the idea. The invitation called for period/formal dress, and there were plenty of Empire waists to go around. Apart from a gin-centered bar and buffet of cold lamb, the attractions included archery and 18th century dancing. My friend Michele won the archery tournament, and I was a close second. We were pleased that we trounced the men, and there is talk of honing our skills this summer at future garden parties. Our dance instructor was an elementary school music teacher, so the level of discourse was just right.