Hi everyone,
Home again to Har Gilo after two weeks in Europe. And I am really enjoying being home. There is an Arab wedding or circumcision party going on just down the hillside from my garden, the hospitality tent is packed, the traditional music is lively, mostly chanted ballads, they are dancing a debkha, the people are ululating and clapping, and the loudspeakers are on full, so I am getting the full benefit; the hillsides are ringing to the drums, pipes, ouds, and singing. It's noisy, warm, energetic and friendly, and I just finished a good Middle Eastern dinner of watermelon and bulgarian cheese. Cats and dogs are healthy and my house is in decent shape. God, it is good to be home.
I've been in the Netherlands and Denmark for the last two weeks. Solid, serious, quiet, hardworking, decent people there. I'd die of boredom before the year was out. But it is nice to visit, and I have a lot of friends up that way. I was sick in Holland, the weather combined with diarrhea apparantly caused by my iron pills. I stopped the iron pills and that cleared up; luckily so did the weather. Stayed with friends in Zutphen, spend time in the field with my dear old friend Dr. Piet Schipper from the Dutch forestry service. Got my fill of bacon and ham without guilt. Then on to Denmark for the last week.
I had professional business in Copenhagen, and stayed with a friend. Only one day on work and the rest of the time my friend was taking me around to see things. Not least of interest, she recently joined the Mormon Church (yes, there is a thriving Mormon community in Denmark) so I went with her to the Sunday service. My grandmother was Mormon but I only dimly remembered going to the chapel with here a few times. This time I was fully informed and intrigued. It would never work in Israel; these folks are regimented like an army and happily obedient to their superiors. After 25 years in Israel, that's almost outside my comprehension. My guess is that the average Israeli woul give the bent-arm Italian salute if he got ordered about like a Mormon, but the Danes are a gentle, gregarious lot who tend towards propriety and conformism, so the lifestyle of the Latter Day Saints seems to suit them very well. I kept wondering how they would handle a full blast hissy fit of the kind we see all the time in Jerusalem. Probably a Dane would lock up and be catatonic until it was all over.
Okay, different strokes for different folks. I seldom have problems with different theologies, but a regiment lifestyle is not for me. I can see that for a lot of people in a confusing world, it may give a sense of security and comfort and give life meaning, but I'm by nature as rebellious as any Israel and I'd backpedal at the mere thought of a lifestyle like that. It was hard enough to give up my cigars and coffeee for the week. (Mormons don't drink either alchohol or caffeinated drinks, and don't use tobacco. Mama mia.)
Copenhagen was fun. As soon as I escaped the Mormons for my daily rounds, I headed for a bakery and stuffed myself with coffee and real Danish rolls (which are called Berliner bread in Denmark, by the way). I discovered smorrebrod, the openfaced sandwhich which is the Scandinavian equivalent of Japanese bento, a work of art on a piece of bread. Lots of good stuff out there in Copenhagen, but I guess the Mormons disapprove of most of it. I never thought a cup of coffee would feel like sinning.....either Danish coffee is some of the best in the world or my transgressions made it taste better, I dunno.
I also had a chance to go out to sea on a Viking boat in the harbor at Roskilde, where the Danes have reconstructed several traditional boats after digging up a bunch of dragon ships in the harbor. Our boat was just a little Norwegian fishing tub, sixteen oarsmen and one sail, but the design has been in use for a thousand years because it is so stable and sturdy. I couln't resist, signed up and found myself the second starboard oar, happy as a pig in mud.
I always wanted to be a Viking until I got old enough to learn, to my sorrow, that there wasn't much of a job market for Norse sea raiders these days. Apparantly a lot of Danes, under their genteel surface, have the same fantasy, because I found myself with fifteen Danes taking orders in Danish from a sturdy blond Valkerie as skipper. As apprentice Vikings, we were rather pathetic, but we did row out to sea, hoist the sail, cruise about, and row back to harbor. Also, I now know the Danish for starboard, port, row and back water. Got in touch with my roots, awarded myself a silver Thor's Hammer on a chain, and was thinking my father would have given his teeth to do what I just did. Incidentally, a really serious dragon ship, the Havhingsten (Sea Stallion) is enroute from Roskilde to Ireland and is getting daily internet coverage at http://www.havhingsten.dk/. It's doing well, in the Orkney Islands now. I'm getting back in touch with my inner Viking by tracking it.
On the whole it was a fun trip. I'm not as young as I used to be but I can still do things like man an oar on a Viking ship. Must be genetic, maybe that explains the huge, unladylike hands and linebacker shoulders I have, and the mean punch that goes with them. (Note the hands on our lady skipper in the photo, as she hauls down the ship's sail. We both had ancestors bred to man oars and swing clubs and swords. That's nice to know, not to mention useful sometimes.)
Now back to mundane and pedestrian in the Middle East. (Incidentally, a minute ago the folks at the party were shooting their guns in the air in celebration (marriage consumated, or circumcision finished, maybe?). Mundane and pedestrian in this part of the world is still kinda interesting. I wouldn't live anywhere else (unless they would let me be a Viking, of course).
shabbat shalom,
Linda
Collage por Peta
Home again to Har Gilo after two weeks in Europe. And I am really enjoying being home. There is an Arab wedding or circumcision party going on just down the hillside from my garden, the hospitality tent is packed, the traditional music is lively, mostly chanted ballads, they are dancing a debkha, the people are ululating and clapping, and the loudspeakers are on full, so I am getting the full benefit; the hillsides are ringing to the drums, pipes, ouds, and singing. It's noisy, warm, energetic and friendly, and I just finished a good Middle Eastern dinner of watermelon and bulgarian cheese. Cats and dogs are healthy and my house is in decent shape. God, it is good to be home.
I've been in the Netherlands and Denmark for the last two weeks. Solid, serious, quiet, hardworking, decent people there. I'd die of boredom before the year was out. But it is nice to visit, and I have a lot of friends up that way. I was sick in Holland, the weather combined with diarrhea apparantly caused by my iron pills. I stopped the iron pills and that cleared up; luckily so did the weather. Stayed with friends in Zutphen, spend time in the field with my dear old friend Dr. Piet Schipper from the Dutch forestry service. Got my fill of bacon and ham without guilt. Then on to Denmark for the last week.
I had professional business in Copenhagen, and stayed with a friend. Only one day on work and the rest of the time my friend was taking me around to see things. Not least of interest, she recently joined the Mormon Church (yes, there is a thriving Mormon community in Denmark) so I went with her to the Sunday service. My grandmother was Mormon but I only dimly remembered going to the chapel with here a few times. This time I was fully informed and intrigued. It would never work in Israel; these folks are regimented like an army and happily obedient to their superiors. After 25 years in Israel, that's almost outside my comprehension. My guess is that the average Israeli woul give the bent-arm Italian salute if he got ordered about like a Mormon, but the Danes are a gentle, gregarious lot who tend towards propriety and conformism, so the lifestyle of the Latter Day Saints seems to suit them very well. I kept wondering how they would handle a full blast hissy fit of the kind we see all the time in Jerusalem. Probably a Dane would lock up and be catatonic until it was all over.
Okay, different strokes for different folks. I seldom have problems with different theologies, but a regiment lifestyle is not for me. I can see that for a lot of people in a confusing world, it may give a sense of security and comfort and give life meaning, but I'm by nature as rebellious as any Israel and I'd backpedal at the mere thought of a lifestyle like that. It was hard enough to give up my cigars and coffeee for the week. (Mormons don't drink either alchohol or caffeinated drinks, and don't use tobacco. Mama mia.)
Copenhagen was fun. As soon as I escaped the Mormons for my daily rounds, I headed for a bakery and stuffed myself with coffee and real Danish rolls (which are called Berliner bread in Denmark, by the way). I discovered smorrebrod, the openfaced sandwhich which is the Scandinavian equivalent of Japanese bento, a work of art on a piece of bread. Lots of good stuff out there in Copenhagen, but I guess the Mormons disapprove of most of it. I never thought a cup of coffee would feel like sinning.....either Danish coffee is some of the best in the world or my transgressions made it taste better, I dunno.
I also had a chance to go out to sea on a Viking boat in the harbor at Roskilde, where the Danes have reconstructed several traditional boats after digging up a bunch of dragon ships in the harbor. Our boat was just a little Norwegian fishing tub, sixteen oarsmen and one sail, but the design has been in use for a thousand years because it is so stable and sturdy. I couln't resist, signed up and found myself the second starboard oar, happy as a pig in mud.
I always wanted to be a Viking until I got old enough to learn, to my sorrow, that there wasn't much of a job market for Norse sea raiders these days. Apparantly a lot of Danes, under their genteel surface, have the same fantasy, because I found myself with fifteen Danes taking orders in Danish from a sturdy blond Valkerie as skipper. As apprentice Vikings, we were rather pathetic, but we did row out to sea, hoist the sail, cruise about, and row back to harbor. Also, I now know the Danish for starboard, port, row and back water. Got in touch with my roots, awarded myself a silver Thor's Hammer on a chain, and was thinking my father would have given his teeth to do what I just did. Incidentally, a really serious dragon ship, the Havhingsten (Sea Stallion) is enroute from Roskilde to Ireland and is getting daily internet coverage at http://www.havhingsten.dk/. It's doing well, in the Orkney Islands now. I'm getting back in touch with my inner Viking by tracking it.
On the whole it was a fun trip. I'm not as young as I used to be but I can still do things like man an oar on a Viking ship. Must be genetic, maybe that explains the huge, unladylike hands and linebacker shoulders I have, and the mean punch that goes with them. (Note the hands on our lady skipper in the photo, as she hauls down the ship's sail. We both had ancestors bred to man oars and swing clubs and swords. That's nice to know, not to mention useful sometimes.)
Now back to mundane and pedestrian in the Middle East. (Incidentally, a minute ago the folks at the party were shooting their guns in the air in celebration (marriage consumated, or circumcision finished, maybe?). Mundane and pedestrian in this part of the world is still kinda interesting. I wouldn't live anywhere else (unless they would let me be a Viking, of course).
shabbat shalom,
Linda
Collage por Peta
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