OK, so I was sitting on the train from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, snapping random pictures because I needed to finish the roll, and, well, I just like the way this one came out. I like the way some symmetry is created by the diagonal line in the middle, and the way you can just barely make out the reflection of the woman who was sitting in front of me, transposed onto the Israeli landscape and sky. For those wondering, the cloth on the headrest says "Only the Train!" and "Israel Railways Ltd."

More recycling bins! In case you can't make it out, on the left is a window with a laundry line in front of it. I love the way these are side by side. I snapped this pic in northern Katamon somewhere, on my way home from interviewing someone on Charlop Street. 

I recently went out for lunch in Jerusalem's City Center with Sarah Smile, and on the way back to her car we passed by a shop with this beautiful staircase leading up to it. This tilework is just gorgeous.

These are the sandals (and one pair of flip-flops) I bought a couple of weeks ago at the Malcha Mall. The two on the right are the same style but in different colors. One thing I have to say for the Israelis is that they sure make available a wide variety of extremely comfortable, well-made, and often stylish sandals for the desert heat. 

This is one of the pairs of sandals I bought a couple of weeks ago. These are definitely the highest heels I've ever owned, but they are surprisingly comfortable. The angle of the heel isn't as high as it seems because the toes are on a platform. Ahhhhh . . . beautiful leather Italian-made wedge sandals. Purchase inspired by Manolo's Shoe Blog.

Tel Aviv on my mind

Yesterday I had to go to TA for a work-related matter, and afterward I met Lisa for a coffee-klatch. It turned into a 3-hour lunch date! Amazing how two bloggers who are so different can get along so well. She is one fabulous chyck.

For those following Lisa's blog: Nyah nyah nyah, I got the whole story about what happened in Tokyo and how she ended up back in Israel. I know more than you do. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaaah nyah.

Thanks to Lisa for introducing me to her hangout, Cafe Ginsburg. Wow, a trendy and kosher place in Tel Aviv. Yes indeed, Lisa knew almost everyone who walked through the door. She reminds me of the Edith Wharton - Dorothy Parker era: expatriate English speaker in a foreign cafe, getting to know the whole artsy crowd who comes in. It may not exactly be Lisa's life, but that's what it reminded me of. (Actually, did Dorothy Parker ever live abroad? Not sure. Anyhow, you know what I mean.)

Onto another matter: Some kid on my street has been learning to pluck out various religious and Israeli standards (hatikva, shalom aleichem, kol haolam kulo, al kol eilah) on the piano. At first I thought: How nice, to hear these classic and clean tunes as I go about my day. But after a week of hearing these songs played one note at a time by a small finger somewhere, I got really sick of it.

At last, today, the kid started playing chords.

Thank God!

Yes, my street is very quiet. Nothing ever happens here, bli ayin hara, poo poo poo. If you want glamour, try Lisa.

Have a Shabbat Shalom.

The Things I'm Not Writing About

If I had more time, I'd create cogent posts about . . .

1) Why I'm pro-disengagement. It's been bugging me that while the anti-disengagement folks (God bless them, for most of my friends are among them) have very simple, straightforward, easily-explained (though often wrong) reasons for being against the Gaza pullout, I haven't heard so many arguments, well-reasoned or not, from my own side! I know why I believe what I believe, but I don't hear so many other people echoing my thoughts. This may be because I live in Jerusalem and frankly don't usually bother arguing with people about their political views. It is possible that there are closet lefties right in my own peer group who, like me, just don't want to ruin our Shabbatot by getting into political arguments. I usually let my friends at Shabbat meals go on and on about how horrible and unreasonable the disengagement is, knowing that eventually they will start talking about something else and I'll have some peace and quiet. Pass the brisket.

Until Friday night. A friend and I were invited to the home of a wonderful, wonderful couple who often invite over large groups of singles. They are incredibly warm and generous. Also, they are very actively involved in the anti-disengagement movement. Conversation among the 10 or so guests proceeded with most people obviously assuming that everyone at the table is of like mind. Finally I spoke up. I explained why I think that leaving an important security issue up to a referendum would be a bad idea, and started in on why maybe disengaging isn't as unreasonable as they believe, when I ran up against a wall because there was information they had against my argument that I hadn't known. So I was stymied, trying to think about what to do now, when others changed the subject and I gave up.

On the way home, my friend, who happens to be far more pro-disengagement than I am, said "that was brave of you, Sarah. I never would have had the guts to speak up." She then told me the information I'd needed in order to counter-argument.

I'm a bit peeved that she didn't help me out by providing that infomation at the table when it would have helped me, but understand why she didn't. Sometimes, you just want to eat your brisket.

But if I had more time, I'd explain it all here, my extremely unpopular-in-Jerusalem pro-disengagement sentiments.

(and before anyone flames me in the comments, I will repeat, as I have said before, that I feel very sorry for the people who are being made to move to locations within the pre-1967 border. Moving is always stressful; moving against your will is terrible. I still think it makes sense, though, for Israel to be doing what it is doing.)

2) Noa and Bryan's wedding. It was beautiful.

3) My afternoon at the Sulha. See Jewlicious for a good description. We seem to have attended the same workshop.

I had a couple of very nice, warm encounters with Arabs - one a Bedouin from the Negev and one a Palestinian from Bethlehem - but like Laya at Jewlicious I was disturbed that the workshop on forgiveness we both attended did not include any acknowledgement from the Arab side that perhaps they need to take responsibility for those elements of their culture that allows terrorism and suicide bombing to grow and continue. The cynics were right: All I heard at this particular session (which was, admittedly, only one out of dozens which took place over three days) was Israelis apologizing for causing pain through the occupation, and Palestinians saying "we are trying very hard to find it in our hearts to forgive you." Perhaps that happened in other sessions, but not the one I attended.

Perhaps I will write more later this week about my conversation with Abdullah, the Bedouin man. He was really very nice and had fascinating, very love-and-peace-oriented, political views. I wish him well.

My overall impression: The Sulha is very nice as far as it goes. I'm not so sure it goes very far.

Still, one never knows what kind of ripples might be created by a small break in the water's surface.

4) How much better my Hebrew has gotten. At the Sulha I translated for Abdullah and an American college student for about half an hour. And recently I yelled at someone for five minutes, just ranting in Hebrew, the words flowing out without stopping! Some time in the last few months, something just "clicked" in my head. I think really it's just that I stopped worrying about making mistakes, and started just talking without worrying about errors. All of a sudden, the Israelis started complimenting me on my error-laden language skills. It can't possibly be that I know so many new words; I work all day in English and hardly know any native Israelis.

Alas, I have way too much work (thank God, actually), so the post stops here.

Recycling Bin Revolutions

In response to my last post about the wonderful recycling bins in Jerusalem: I have absolutely no idea who initiated this project. I tend to think it was the city, but who knows? Perhaps one of these days my curiosity will get the better of me and I'll call city hall to find out for sure.

All I know is that the bins used to all be green, and one morning I woke up and all the ones in my neighborhood had different paintings on them. And within a few weeks, every bin had a painting, at least in the neighborhoods near me.

A couple of things I should add:

1) I am not sure that all areas of Jerusalem have recycling bins at all. I have heard that recycling is something that was instituted in certain areas . . . whether because they are wealthier or because of the influence of North American immigrants, I'm not sure . . . I'd be interested in having readers from north Jerusalem or other Israeli cities leave comments letting us know whether you have a recycling program and, if so, what color the bins are!

**UPDATE**
Thanks to a tip from The Hedyot, here's a link to a Jerusalem Post article about the recycling-bin artwork. Yes, it is a municipal project. Kudos to the artists.

2) Not once have I seen a recycling bin that has been defaced. No graffiti. In New York these paintings would last for about 3 minutes before being ruined.

And now, on to my last (for now) batch of bin-spotting photos . . .

I don't remember where this particular bin is located. When I first saw it I was like "this is dumb." But now that I'm looking at it more, there is something rather dramatic about it, especially the evokation of deep water in a city located in the desert. 

Another abstract painting on Chizkiyahu Hamelech Street. This one replaces another abstract piece that I included in the blog a few months ago. Sometimes the bins get moved around - I'm not sure why. But at this corner, it's always an abstract. Hm. Fascinating. (OK, not so much)