Missing the Point

Write your own joke.

Yum

This is chocolate baklava. Words fail me.

Photo Op

I arrived in Istanbul yesterday, and met up with two girlfriends from my Toronto days. Today we hit the Blue Mosque, which is indeed a beautiful place. I wore the same outfit I had worn through Jerusalem's Old City, i.e. my "Western woman who respects your religious traditions and is therefore dressed very modestly" outfit. This look got me mistaken for a Mennonite in Jerusalem, so you get the idea. I was well pleased that at the entrance to the Blue Mosque, where the fashion police were wrapping tourists in shawls and sarongs, they just waved me through. Once inside, I milled about like everyone else, until a Muslim Turkish family approached me and asked "Photo?" I nodded and reached for their camera, thinking that they wanted me to take their family picture, but as it turns out, they wanted to have their picture taken with me. They gathered around, giggling, and we all smiled for the camera. I have no idea what made me such a photogenic figure, but I am terribly amused that I will now live on in this family's photo album. A couple of minutes later I realized that I had missed the golden opportunity to then demand that they take the same photo with my camera. I'll be quicker next time.

After they left, I told my friends what had happened, and when they were done laughing their heads off, they tried to figure out what had made me a more compelling tourist attraction than, say, The Blue Mosque. They kept saying "it must me your shoes" (see earlier post). I had to keep reminding them that I was barefoot, because, you know, it's The Blue Mosque. By the way, they have a really fabulous carpet (no, really?):

Then we speculated that they may have been fascinated with my hat, which is itself a conversation starter. Maybe they were just stunned to see a Western tourist who was dressed properly, and felt they needed to document it for posterity.

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.