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A toothless Turkish fısherman looked at me.
“You American?”
-Yes.
“Obama?”
-Yes.
He gave me a hıgh fıve.
Istanbul has treated me well. The Bıggest cıty ın Europe sportıng a sıze about double New York, ıts a mecca for so much ın the way of food and culture. Apparently I am stayıng at the hostel for travelıng street musıcans (on the cheapıes). I meet a guy who could have passed for a brazıllıan Jesus. Bıg beard and dreads, clothes he made hımself, on the road for the past 10 years. So many people I have met. Somethıng lıke 3-4 new connectıonsa day. I could just strıke up a conversatıon wıth a fellow traveler on the street or a natıve turkısh and spend the afternoon wıth them, its that frıendly. The dance club down the block from where I stay plays everythıng from Manu Choa to Lıttle Rıchard. Its quıte exotıc here. Food ıs another world of goodıes. Kapabs to seafood to thıngs I have never tasted. Frıend Erıca was ın town and showed me the real Turkey (she speaks the language and knows the deal, plus gets the natıve turkısh prıce ınstead of the tourist one). We tasted thıngs lıke lungs and ıntestınes and the wildness of stuffeffed potatoes-I was down like a clown.
A funny thıng happend wıth one of those frıendly turks. A guy who I met on the street took me out to hıs favorıte kapab joınts, payıng and everythıng, not uncommon ın my experıence. Next we went to a club full of buısness men and tall women. Thıs was not the lıke the dance club by my hostel. Wıthın 5 mınutes two women were at our table ordıng the most expensıve drınks. After 4-5 rounds the bıll came and ıt became paınfully obvıous that I been taken for a rıde. It wasn’t untıll I remembered a story that my bırthrıght buddy Noah told me that ıt all made sense. The club owner had hıred the gırls and the guy on the street to get at my bılls. It was basıcally a sophıstıcated way of robbıng someone and apprently ıt even happens to Turkısh guys. After preasured debates I got out wıth only payıng 80 bucks, a fractıon of what I had on me. Kında of a small prıce to pay for valuable travelıng experıence. When I told the guy who runs the hostel hıs response was, ”let me guess, russıan gırls?” It was pretty common experıence. My guıld book even told of exactly how ıt would go down. Ah well. Lıve and learn. Next the balkıns…
“We have clean sheets but there a little bit wrinkled” she said.
“You have SHEETS? Real sheets, like on a real bed?” this was luxurious.
It’s funny the accommodations you take for granted when you at home. For the last week I’ve in different spots throughout Jerusalem in my explorations of the holy city. Some included parents with talents for omelets, others included cockroaches that just liked omelets. My days would start going to the local market, or “Suk”, and picking of the freshest of breads, hummus and whatever else looked good. I would survive off that until the evening when I became ravenous and splurged on a lamb burger or a huge shwarma (middle eastern burrito.) See how I start with the food, it’s always on the mind, I’m still learning to eat better while on the road. In my day trips I saw the western wall, the dome of the rock and just happened to stumble upon where they berried some important dude named Jesus. We asked were we were and the priest looked at us liked we didn’t recognize the moon. The dome of the rock was a chill spot, Muslim women sat barefoot under the dome of the chain next to the r
ock reading prayer books. The gardens were so peaceful it made me want to nap. “The time is over!” a man yelled, tourists aren’t allowed after 11am, it’s Ramadan. My last night in Jerusalem I got to commune with some hassids that were having an all night teach in. Kinda like a philosophy class with more beards. I stuck out my hands as was suggested by one of the Jews and got a bunch of peanuts with a colorful soda to wash it down. These people get it. If your going to take a class that goes past 3am, the teacher needs to bring snacks. Alas back to the food. Right now I just spent Shabbat up north with Serena, the Rabbi who Bar-Mitzva’d me and her fam. I saw real food and had a day of it. Tomorrow I’m off to Istanbul, more updates from there. -J
- at the western wall
Here’s a song I recorded last night in Jerusalem about where I am and being on the road:
Overlooking Jerusalem
It was the last dinner of the birthright trip. I sat in the ancient city of Jaffa with Jews from all over the country who I got to know over a two week intensive that covered most of Israel. Folks look beat down and rightfully so. In two weeks we had partied on the Sea of Galilee, faced the fearceome Friday crowds of the Jerusalem Marketplace, clubbed until we were loud, boisterous and obviously American in Tel-Aviv, hiked to the top of Mt. Masada to watch the sun rise, road on ugly Star-Wars-like camels until our haunches were sore, floated in the dead sea untilwe were salty mcfishes, rafted down rivers with paddle splashing on the way, dug ancient ruins (in some digs, tourist are there main source of labor…you pay, you work), learned of ancient Jewish Mysticism in the city of Zsfat, repelled off cliffs, what else?……there was so much we had done I couldn’t even remember it all. Each day had left me laughing harder and more exhausted than I had ever been. Our typical day had started at 6:30am and no one seem to turn in until after 2 or 3 the next mourning. Each day was jammed packed with activities, the history of Israel, outdoor hikes, ect. The lack of sleep had dragged us down. For most realizing this world win tour was over and the realization that one needed to return to normal life was an even more exhausting idea. I on the other hand was wide awake. I stuffed down the last bits of Sharshuka (a middle eastern, egg and tomato dish) in preparation for more travel. This was the beginning of my own trip. A trip were everything wasn’t safely planned, meals provided, with an armed Israeli guard to watch you eat it (which sounds way more intimidating that it actually was). I was about to fly by the seat of my pants into what was for me the unknown. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating.
