Caesaria, Many Cities

A Note on the Touchy Stuff

The tour of Caesarea inadvertently touched on the Arab Israeli Conflict. In fact--most things in Israel do. This is because the conflict, which began in 1918, remains unsolved and every developing nation in the region has been shaped by it. Whether it's Caesarea's abandoned mosque or the Arabs in Haifa whose parents and grandparents were begged by Haganah's Carmeli Brigade to stay after the city was taken; everything is linked to it.

This blog isn't really the best forum for discussing the Arab-Israeli Conflict in the depth it deserves  nor am I the most qualified person to discuss it. For a well written, peer reviewed, and highly acclaimed neutral scholarly work which presents a thorough overview of the conflict; I recommend Ian J. Bickerton and Carla L. Klausner's A History of the Arab-Israeli Conflict.

However, the 19th century buildings clustered amid the Roman ruins deserve mention. I will not fail to mention what I see or have seen which starkly reflects the conflict. I'll present in as neutral a fashion as I can, and you may draw your own conclusions--though I suggest reading, skimming, or acquiring a copy of the aforementioned book. 

***

Caesarea is one of Israel's lesser known cities for good reason. The city has been sporadically populated and decimated throughout it's history. It was created during the reign of the infamous Herod the Great(first of his name, of House Targaryen...just kidding). Herod is most widely known through his depiction in the New Testament. Herod was a Jewish king who reigned in the last few decades of Judea's sovereignty before the nation was destroyed by Rome. At this time however, Judea is already a tributary of the Empire.  

Best reconstruction of Herodian Caesarea I
could find. Courtesy of The Best in Heritage.

In 22 BCE, as part of a plan to increase Judea's status in the Empire, Herod began to build a new city with a deep sea harbor. He named it Caesarea in honor of Rome's rulers, and patterned it off of a typical Roman city. He began by building an artificial breakwater by using sunken pylons filled with a new type of concrete that hardened once it was submerged. He covered the pylons with earth and raised his fortified harbor atop them. Next he constructed a mammoth lighthouse and a large temple at the harbor's entrance...dedicated to the goddess Roma and the late Emperor Caesar Augustus. (The temple is the large building just to the left of the lighthouse.) He also erected a large palace for himself just behind the harbor (in the very distance at the top of the picture behind the lighthouse) which jutted out into the sea. Additionally he built an arena for hosting gladiatorial games, a theater, and a hippodrome for chariot racing. (The hippodrome sits along the shore between the lighthouse and Herod's palace; the rest of the aforementioned buildings are not distinct in the picture.)

The city remained a mercantile hub throughout the Byzantine period, though its' population began to dwindle in part due to ruinous earthquakes. During the Byzantine period the Herodian temple was converted into a church. After the city was conquered by expanding Arab empires the church was subsequently converted to a mosque. 

When the Crusaders invaded, the entire population either was slaughtered or fled and the new Crusader city established there became an important hub of trade and a destination for pilgrims entering the Holy Land. The temple-turned-church-turned-mosque was torn down and a new Romanesque church built upon its' foundations. The city was heavily fortified to resist assault; but when the assault came during the fall of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem Caesarea was unable to withstand it. The entire city was torn down and the population was either slaughtered or fled.

From this point the town ceased to be any more than a sleepy little fishing village. In the 1880's under the Ottoman Empire it was repopulated by Bosnian Muslims fleeing turmoil in their homeland. The town flourished.

Under the British Mandate of Palestine a tragic turn of events led to the town's depopulation. In late 1947 a civil war broke out in British Mandate between Jewish and Arab military organizations. The local leader of the village approached the Jewish Agency (acting government for the Jewish population of the British Mandate)and singed a non aggression pact. Caesarea would, under this agreement, accept the sovereignty of whichever side controlled the territory and would not aid either side. 

On January 31st of 1948 a Jewish terrorist organization called Lehi (לח"י) blew up a bus outside of Caesarea which caused much of the population to flee for fear of their lives. In April 1948 Lehi with the aid of a right wing militia called Irgun (אִרְגּוּן)also carried out a vicious raid and massacre in a small Arab village called Dier Yassin which had signed a similar non-aggression pact with the Jewish Agency.(Both Lehi and Irgun were acting independently of the Jewish Agency.) Fearing for their lives, more of Caesarea's population fled in panic. When regular Jewish forces arrived in February 1948 the town was all but deserted. The remaining twenty inhabitants were forcefully removed and most of the houses and buildings demolished to prevent the town from becoming an enemy base of operations.

***

Oblivious to all of this, I arrived on the tour with my International School classmates at Caesarea. The first thing that I noticed was that on the sings, Caesarea's Arabic name was spelled using a sound distinct to Arabic, the Qaf ق (pronounced like a 'Q' in the back of your throat).

Road sign--not the one I saw, but this
is what they look like. The one for
Caesarea featured the Arabic nameقيسارية‎ ,
the Kauf is highlighted in red.

This suggests that the name (which King Herod chose from Latin) had been integrated into the Arabic a long time ago.

I knew relatively little about Caesarea, but this seemed interesting. Next I noticed how spread out all the buildings were and the size of the houses. Most of the older Israeli cities tend to be built so closely together that there isn't hardly any green space. Owning a house in any of these is extremely uncommon if not outright unheard

Jaffa Street, Haifa.
Courtesy of WikiCommons. 

of, simply because there isn't any room to build them. Most people live in condominiums. In Caesarea--there were villas! And a golf course. The fact that there was room to build all this meant that most of the town was new. Not all of it was, however.

A Caesarea villa.
Courtesy of
C&M Real Estate.

Many of the ones found near the shore were older, and looked not unlike the Jerusalem stone sort of architecture from the late 19th and early 20th centuries which we saw elsewhere in Israel. Like the apartments you see above in the picture of Jaffa Street. The older buildings in Caesarea had been re-purposed as gift shops and restaurants to serve the tourists coming to see the Herodian Ruins. One building which stood out, though not because of its' size--but because of a large tower attached to it. The tower was too small to have served as any kind of battlement. It looked like a minaret, and after asking the tour guide I discovered that's what it was. 

Minaret at Caesarea

Or had been rather, the building was now a restaurant. 

Seeing this confirmed any suspicions I had, I asked the tour guide about it. He said that the Muslim population had been primarily Bosian aristocracy who had fled Bosnia during the troubles in the 19th Century. They had re-established in Caesarea, but had "left in 1948 because they didn't want to live as a Muslim minority in a Jewish state. It's terrible what they did to the old mosque though...it's a restaurant now and they serve alcohol there." 

I didn't want to press the tour guide any more about the specifics of what had taken place here. In Israel, as in many parts of the world, politics is volatile. And in Israel (as in many parts of the world) historical memory is political. Each side has their own recorded history, and in many cases there were no objective sources to record what happened. But even if there were it doesn't really matter. Because societal memory cannot be commanded by the academics in their ivory towers who study the objective history and arbitrate just from unjust, truth falsehood. What people believe in Israel, as we all do in all parts of the world, is the version of history which appeals to us.

Maybe one day, as Sir Terry Pratchet once wrote, "the truth will set us free" and we can learn to look past mutual wrongs and build anew. But the day in Caesarea wasn't that day, and I certainly wasn't going to press our tour guide for more details. So I constructed my own hypothesis based on what I'd seen and knew.

I knew that many villages had become completely depopulated after Dier Yassin as refugees fled what they thought was an impending slaughter. Israeli Haganah (regular military) forces had arrived to find them completely empty.

Ghosts of the past,
courtesy of Ghost in the Machine.

I convinced myself that this is what had happened in Caesarea, or most likely at any rate. It gave me the stupefying chill that I get when I find myself standing in a place haunted by ghosts of the past. I knew something had happened and hoped I wasn't standing on the spot of a forced depopulation. 

Wall and gatehouse

Though those ghosts were the first that day, they were far from the last. The tour began by entering the gatehouse of a very mundane looking wall. It was a proper city wall--built to withstand assault. That much was certain, though not much of the wall itself was left standing. It was older than the 19th century Jerusalem stone...with a cursory glance I guessed early Ottoman Era and snapped a picture of a Herodian capital lying by the entrance. Then we entered the gatehouse.

Herodian capital

At first it began as an immense feeling of deja vu. I had seen this, or something very much like it somewhere else before...Herodian? No, the vaulting wasn't Roman. Ottoman? No, the vaults definitely weren't Ottoman. They looked European...

Gatehouse

The immense realization struck me with the force of a mace. I'd seen pictures of chambers like this a thousand times. I was standing inside the remains of the Crusader era fortification. 

Suddenly everything I'd read became real. The window, tapering to let light in but narrow enough to keep arrows out. Robust walls a foot thick to resist siege engines. A sharp corner to reach the exit on the right--if the door is breached make the invaders turn a corner so you have time to close the tower's exit behind you and trap them on the inside. And a series of elegant vaults supporting the roof; I could almost hear the sounds of battle between Crusader and Saracen echoing through them...

Gatehouse Capital

But this was only the beginning. I had heard of Roman ruins and seen pictures. I imagined the ones in Caesarea looking like those advertised on the poster--forlorn aqueducts half buried in sand. A army of tumbled pillars on the seashore eroded by time. The tour guide told us that the hippodrome was 'well preserved' along with the amphitheater. I pictured the Colosseum in Rome with its' crumbling walls and collapsed floor. Which was when we turned the corner and entered the hippodrome. There we were standing before a phantom audience, beside an iron chariot sitting in its' starting gate, on the floor of an arena centuries old. In truth the bleachers and wall were only a frac-

Remains of a
fresco in the
arena.

The starting gates
were attached to
the pillars behind
the chariot.

tion of the original. It had been taller, with an elevated stand for the wealthy which had collapsed long ago. But on seeing the bleachers I knew what I had to do. (Yes Classicists, I know that this particular sign was reserved for gladiatorial competitions. But the hippodrome was briefly converted into an arena for such competitions when Caesarea's arena was closed for maintenance.) This is probably the most tourist like picture that I've taken so far--but I'm sure it won't the last. The feeling of sitting in the place of one of Caesarea's former residents and looking out on the hippodrome was incredible. 

"Maximus the
merciful!"

Wall in the
hippodrome

We moved on to the remains of Herod's palace. Unfortunately, unlike the hippodrome, there wasn't much left to see besides the long forgotten remains of a columned central hallway. There was, our guide pointed out, a pool by the see which was thought to have been a freshwater pool for the king and his courtiers. However, recent finds he suggested that it was saltwater--same as the ocean. He was about to give us more information, when the tour was interrupted by a workman. He was speaking Hebrew but I understood what he was saying. We needed to leave because the park was being closed for restoration work. Our guide protested that he hadn't been told and asked for forty more minutes. He tried haggling the workman down to twenty, but the workman insisted. Fortunately by this time we'd seen the main sites--the hippodrome, the palace, etc. The arena was still being excavated. But what we didn't get to see was the amphitheater, which is so remarkably well preserved that the acoustics still work and it's used to host classical concerts. I took some pictures outside, longing to go in, to stand at the center and hear my voice echo in the same place as Roman dramatists. But it was time to go. As we left them all behind--Bosnians, Crusaders, Saracens, charioteers, and kings; I knew I would have to come back at least to see the amphitheater if not all of it again. 

Pillars of Herod's
great hall

Another view of
the hall looking
out on the sea

The Caesarea Amphitheater

A capital and a
piece of molding
from Herodian
Caesarea

Me outside the amphitheater

Nazareth, Cats, and Doors

Before I Begin...

It occurred to me today, as I was walking to class and a pigeon landed in front of me, that there were a few things about Israel I'd forgotten to mention, which I have already gotten used to. The reason that it occurred to me is that the pigeon landed on the floor in front of me in the second story hallway of one of the main academic buildings on campus.

Kitty lounging in the 9th
floor common room of the main 
dorm building (it does have
a door open to the street...)

Anyone who has visited a university, much less lived on campus, knows that campus animals are fearless. No discarded morsel of food is safe--whether it be given to them willingly, dropped and abandoned, or (in the case of one of my Snickers bars) has just fallen out of your pocket. Campus animals, as a result, do quite well for themselves. (In the case of one Beloit squirrel I witnessed, so well that he could no longer scale a tree.) Once you get past the University of Haifa's armed guards and perimeter fence, all the buildings accessible to the public are open. Not just open in that the doors are unlocked, they're all propped. Rain or shine, hot or cold, the doors are wide open. Which means, if the second story hallway is a balcony built around an atrium which serves as the main entrance to the building, pigeons may sometimes fly through the hall while you're changing classes.

Friendly, lives by the Student Union,
nicknamed  "Guy" because he
has a Guy Fawkes goatee

This brings me to the next topic which is cats. Not only are the class buildings unlocked with doors propped while classes are in session, so are the doors to the main dorm buildings. Only these are unlocked and propped 24/7 since students have access to the dorms all the time. Aside from the primary campus animal, the pigeon, the campus (like most Israeli cities) has a high population of feral cats. As everyone knows, cats are awesome, and unlike pigeons, are quite smart and many make friends with humans very easily. Having seen neither nose nor tail of any rodents, it is not difficult to imagine why many of the cats are a little under fed due to their lack of natural prey. Thus they make friends with students who feed them, and have learned not only to enter the dorms but to climb the stairs and navigate the corridors to find their friends' rooms. Thus, it is not uncommon for me to see several of them on the stairs, in the common rooms, computer labs, and the like on my way home from my friends' rooms.

***

Nazareth, for those unfamiliar, is a very important city in Christianity for three reasons. Primarily it's because the city was the site of the Miracle of the Annunciation, when it is believed that Marry was visited by the Angel Gabriel who told her she would bear the Messiah. It's also where Jesus is said to have preformed his First Miracle, turning water into wine. And lastly, it's the place where Jesus is said to have lived most of his life. The Hebrew name for Christians is נוצרי (Nu'tzrey) which comes from the Hebrew name for Nazareth נצרת (Na'tzreth).

Posters outside bus station

Nowadays, it's one of Israel's few predominantly Arab communities, but it's also unique in that the Arab community is mostly Christian. The first thing that you notice, upon entering the city is that signs change from primarily Hebrew with Arabic to primarily Arabic with Hebrew. Because I'm continuing to study Hebrew this semester, I'm not studying Arabic. However, I took this opportunity to read all the Arabic words I could and exercise my painfully limited vocabulary. I used, when I could, Arabic courtesies when interacting with storekeepers which elicited many smiles.

A brief side note about politics: the vast majority of political expression in Nazareth seemed to be concerned with one of the three Arab parties in the Israeli Knesset whose symbol is the Ḍād(ض). Those are the orange posters you see above.(Also note: Arabic is Israel's second official language and is spoken in the Knesset. Each party has a 1-2 letter symbol, hence the choice of this party.)

While Christians agree that Nazareth was the location of the Annunciation there is a disagreement about where the Annunciation took place. The Eastern Orthodox Churches believe that it happened while Mary was fetching water from a spring in Nazareth. The Catholic Church contends that it took place in her house.

This picture of the interior is courtesy of WikiComons

The first church we visited was the Orthodox Church of the Annunciation  The building itself seemed to capture the character of the Orthodox Church. Ancient, it's an Ottoman Era building built over a Crusader era crypt which houses the shrine. Unassuming, the sandstone exterior doesn't yield much and it's quite small even compared to some of the smaller mosques in the city. Yet inside; it's rich, intimate, and radiant with devotion.

Floor mosaic in the crypt, age uncertain

The three pictures above are from the Church's interior. What the it lacked in size, it more than made up for with the ornate decorations in which it had been so lovingly ornamented. My tour group wasn't alone in the Church, we joined a mass of Russian pilgrims who had come to visit. Their prayer service had just finished as we entered, and the pilgrims were quickly exiting the tiny sanctuary on their way way to the spring. These three pictures are all I had time to take as I was swept along by the the throng; my group behind me and the pilgrims ahead. 

Crusader crypt packed with Russian pilgrims

The spring itself and the shrine are in the Crusader era Crypt which was built in 12th or 13th Century. (The sandstone Church was built 18th.) Descending into the Crypt, you can immediately tell that it and the Church are of two different eras. The ornate paints and gold leaf of the Church are replaced by simple masonry and tile mosaic. Our group waited at the rear for the pilgrims; who in a silent, orderly fashion, collected holy water. They collected it in whatever they'd brought--from decorated jars, to tea cups and water bottles. Each then recited a prayer at the spring, and exited the Church to sing hymns with their fellows in the courtyard outside. When at last they were clear, we advanced to see the shrine.

Russian pilgrims collecting holy water

Tile mosaic in the Crusader crypt

The Holy Spring at the Orthodox Church of the Annunciation

There's something about holy places which makes them feel distinct. It doesn't mater if you're a believer or not. I'm not a Christian, and yet knowing that this little spring represented so much to pious believers...I felt as though the Crypt was possessed by an imminent tranquility.

Steeple of the Catholic Church

As the Orthodox Church of the Annunciation reflected the character of the Orthodox church itself, the Catholic Basilica of the Annunciation was the embodiment of Roman Christendom. The building itself cannot simply be called a church, it's a stately cathedral which is a prominent feature of Nazareth's skyline. The cathedral, like the Catholic Church, combines the very old with the very new--the new cathedral is built literally upon the foundations of a Crusader era cathedral which was demolished when the city was recaptured following the fall of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. A second cathedral was built in the late 19th Century, but this was demolished by the Franciscans to build the present Basilica and the new cathedral. 

Main facade, view from gates

Approaching it, you instantly feel dwarfed, and struggle to look upward constantly in order to gain a full view of the structure. The exterior is decorated with alternating bands of marble and sandstone, built in the shape of a triangle to symbolize the trinity. Four of the sandstone bands are marked with the four classical elements: fire, earth, water, and heaven to symbolize the Greco-Roman philosophy and heritage of the Church. (The five classical elements are actually: earth, fire, water, air, and aether which was a mystical element that symbolizes the sacred. The Franciscans seem to have combined the last two.) The facade also has the four apostles engraved in relief.

Main facade

The main entrance to the Cathedral's first floor is through a large set of bronze double doors engraved in relief with images of important scenes from the New Testament. There are two other doorways you can also enter through. These doors are engraved with images from the Old Testament. (Some of the scenes are stories also found in the Qur'an.) The side doors reflect the Catholic Church's doctrine of pluralism: though in their opinion the most direct way to salvation is through the teachings of the New Testament; the other Abrahamic faiths also hold the same teachings and can be used to reach salvation as well.

Main double bronze doors

 We entered the Church's first floor quietly, since the Franciscan monks who are the Church's caretakers were praying. It was awkward, walking through and gawking, while at the center of the room the Franciscans chanted as beautifully as they did heedlessly. I didn't take any pictures of the room as a whole, it seemed as though I would be intruding on the monks' prayer.

Top: Adam and Eve's punishments
Middle: Noah's Ark
Bottom: Binding of Isaac
Borrowed

The shrine is built over a cave said to have been Mary's house. The first floor is meant to mirror the cave in the shrine. It's fairly dark, with most of the light comes from a round opening in the ceiling which looks up into the steeple and its' many windows. The only ornamentation is around the shrine itself and an area designate for worship. All that remains of the original Crusader church is the lower half of the walls, and the shrine itself.  

As the monks' chants filled the room, it was hard not to feel that same imminent tranquility as I had at the spring. I took careful steps across the stone floor and even held my breath slightly as I passed the monks. I didn't want to disrupt them, though in retrospect if I had made any noise, I don't think it would have mattered.

First floor and shrine, Basilica of the
Annunciation. Note the older stone,
the remains of the Crusader era
church and shrine.
Borrowed

Exiting first floor we made our way up a flight of stairs to the second. This a much larger and grander space intended for regular community worship. It's walls, however, were designed to reflect the international character of the Catholic Church  each of the different national communities within the Church had donated a mosaic done in the artistic style  of that nation.

Catholic
Shrine of the Annunciation

When we left the cathedral, it's bells tolled five, the monks' chanting still at our backs coming through the Cathedral's doorway. And over speakers from a nearby minaret came the call to prayer. The three sounds mingled with one another seamlessly and a cool calm settled over the night as the deep blue sky faded to black.

Japanese Madonna with infant
Christ 

An African Madonna with Christ

Main sanctuary, second floor, Basilica of the Annunciation.
Borrowed

Sorry it was so late--Caesarea coming soon!

Arrival in Israel

Some Questions Answered

I'm sorry it's taken so long to update--we just finished Ulpan finals, I'll explain more in detail below. Since publishing the blog I've gotten a few questions about the blog's title, specifically because the term 'Orient' is incredibly vague and fairly archaic. The reason I chose it is that I was looking for a politically neutral term to describe this region that I'm studying in which also carries with it the connotations of an incredibly diverse and rich culture. In this post I'll talk mostly about my trip to the country itself, my first days here, the Ulpan, and of course, Carmel National Park.

***

When the hassle of acquiring plane tickets was finished, I ended up with an indirect flight to Israel. My first flight was supposed to be from Chicago to Toronto, and from there I would fly on to Tel Aviv. However, due to a snow storm in Chicago (of course), I missed my connecting flight from Toronto to Tel Aviv--landing in Toronto 21/2 hours late. 

Though United realized that their delayed arrival caused me to miss my Air Canada flight to Tel Aviv, they initially refused to acquire a new flight for me insisting that it was Air Canada's responsibility. Air Canada insisted the opposite.

I eventually negotiated a United Airlines ticket from Toronto back into the US, to New York, with a United ticket from New York to Tel Aviv. And I managed to get hotel vouchers for the night. The flight to New York was uneventful.

On the flight from New York to Tel Aviv, I was seated between your average Israeli who worked for a technology company based in California (on my left) and a Haredi (on my right). Unfortunately, despite the irony of the situation, I did not get either of their names. The gentleman to my left was in his early thirties, a married father of three, and was still jet lagged from his first flight. His first flight was from L.A. to New York. His company had done him the courtesy of flying him to their headquarters in California...for exactly ten days.

The Haredi had been on a flight to visit his father, and now lived in Jerusalem. He didn't speak to me at first, only handing me the pretzels the stewardess had given him because they were the wrong sort of kosher. I asked him if he found it difficult to pray on the plane surrounded by all the confined chaos of the nine-hour flight. He looked surprised by the question, and replied that he did not. 

***

Landing in Israel I was quite nervous because about customs. Given that I was entering a country which had been engaged in asymmetrical conflict for the past sixty years, I imagined a grueling process of checking documents and meticulously searching my neatly packed suitcases. Five customs counters were open, two of which were designated for English speakers, two for Hebrew, and one for Russian. I stood in line in an English one, only to have the sign change halfway through to Hebrew, forcing me to switch. My documents were briefly looked over, and I was shuffled down to have my bags checked.

I had imagined large examining tables, bright lights, metal detectors, and ordinance disposal boxes. Instead there was only the largest baggage x-ray machine I had ever seen. My neatly packed suitcases were passed through, examined, and let out. With that, I was officially in country

***

My first few nights I stayed with the Martins: Gershom, Wendy, and Aviva, and was treated to warm Israeli hospitality. It was a rather gentle immersion into the culture, as Wendy is a US citizen and her husband and daughter both speak fluent English. I stayed in the Tel Aviv suburb of Rehovot (רְחוֹבוֹת)a town founded in the 1890's by a community of Polish Jews on land purchased from local aristocracy. The town boasts wonderful citrus groves and the famous Weitzman Institute of Science named for renowned scientist and politician Chaim Weitzman.

While in Rehovot, I began to take in some of the major cultural differences. The first was the driving. Driving in Israel takes a unique combination of aggression, strategy, and reflexes. For example: roundabouts are quickly replacing stop signs, as drivers frequently ignore the stop signs. There are, instead, large mirrors are placed at intersections to allow drivers to see oncoming cars. The second thing I noticed was the security, though not in the way you might think. It's true that at the entrance to most public areas (malls, museums, train stations, etc.)there are armed guards and metal detectors. But unlike security in the U.S. (where they make you remove your belt, loose change, shoes, and cellphone) Israeli metal detectors are set to a high enough sensitivity that they won't detect the coins in your pocket, belt buckle, or zipper on your jacket. Instead you simply set your phone aside, let them wave a wand in front of your backpack, and you're on your way. 

While in Rehovot I got to see the major sites: Chaim Weitzman's house (he was Israel's first president) along with several of Israel's first computers. One of the most memorable sites was Ayalon Institute.

 Looking like a tourist, Chaim Weitzman's  House, Rehovot

WEIZAC Israel's first computer, Weitzman Institute

Golem, the successor

A lovely cafe in Rehovot Wendy and Gershom took me to

Ayalon had been founded as a kibbutz in 1945 by the Haganah movement. To explain Haganah is a whole semester's worth of material unto itself, but in short, Haganah was a para-military organization formed by Jews in the British Mandate of Palestine to protect Jewish kibbutzim from raids by Arab para-military groups. (Haganah was distinct from Irgun and Lehi which were other gorilla militias formed by Jews with the express purpose of attacking [any] Arabs and British soldiers.)  

While on the surface Ayalon functioned as any other Kibbutz community, Ayalon housed an underground factory which produced ammunition for Haganah's Sten, a sub-machine-gun clone. Only a few of Ayalon's workers were aware of the factory's existance; this secrecy was necessary to prevent nearby British soldiers from raiding it. (It was, after all, an illegal arms factory.) Numerous measures were taken by Ayalon's arms workers to conceal the factory:

--an underground UV lamp to give the factory workers tans to present the impression that they had been doing outdoor agricultural labor all day like everyone else

--a brush to scrape brass shavings off of worker's shoes

--motorized slide-away entrances concealed beneath a laundry machine and bread oven respectively

--a milk truck to ship the bullets

--a ventilation system concealed in the bakery's chimney 

The secrecy was nearly breached when Hannah, a 17 year old Holocaust survivor and worker, witnessed the laundry machine slide away to allow several bullet manufacturers leave at day's end. She promptly fainted. Rather than kill her or lie to her to keep the secret, when she came round, they told her the truth. After showing her the machines, she fainted again. When she came round the second time, she requested to join the workers and helped to produce ammunition.

Belt driven machines for manufacturing cartridges

Close up of machinery

Israeli Sten clones

***

After leaving Rehovot, I headed, by train, directly to the University to begin my Ulpan (אולפן). The name translates literally to 'teaching' or instruction and is an insane course developed by Israeli linguistic scholars to teach Hebrew quickly and efficiently. While the term originally referred strictly to the Hebrew course, a parallel Arabic Ulpan course is offered by the University as well. The course consists of five hours of instruction 5.5 days a week (Sunday mornings are off for Christian students) and mountains of homework. That being said it did also offer several tours of the sights, the details of which I will relate in further posts.

During the Ulpan I got the chance to learn about the city of Haifa and the University. Haifa is admittedly Israel's most liberal city because of it's diverse Arab-Israeli population. What is most striking about the University's population is that due to the large number of Mizrahi (Near Eastern) and Sephardic (Near Eastern, North African, and Spanish) Jews--telling the difference between Arab and Israeli students on sight frequently is impossible. (As I was told by an Israeli upon arival "you're not in Ashkenazim [Central/Eastern European Jews] land anymore".) While some Arab Muslim men wear beards and Arab Christians wear crosses, not all do. Furthermore, not all Israeli men (even those who are religious) wear kipot and many grow beards for aesthetic or religious reasons. Many of the Muslim Arab women do wear Hijabs (head scarves) though the degree to which they veil varies--some wear simple scarves and long concealing dresses, others wear patterns and dress modestly, and some not at all. Christian Arab women also tend not to wear outward signs of their religion.

Another feature of the University's diversity is the unique intercultural encounters which would be out of place anywhere else. One morning, I entered the campus Cafe to find the Arab cashier chatting with the blonde waitress in Arabic. At the open air market ('shook' שוק) where I get my groceries, I watched an elderly Russian lady approach an Arab vegetable vendor and ask him in broken Arabic about the price of some peppers. He replied to her in fluid Russian that they were 5 Shekels a kilo. (I am presently convinced that Haifa's markets are the only place in the world where Arabic and Russian are both preferred secondary languages. Most of the signs feature either language in addition to Hebrew.)

But probably the best thing about the campus is it's proximity to Carmel Park. The Park is a government sanctioned nature preserve, the entrance to which is directly across the street from the University. Aside from the fact that it's gorgeous, after about an hour of hiking one of its' trails, you'll completely forget that there's a whole city a few miles away. My only grievance is the Israeli trail markers.

My Backyard

Mountain slope

Mountains

Trail Marker

For reference, this marker is about eight inches in length. This wouldn't be that big a deal if it weren't for the fact that the valley floor in the park is cris-crossed with river beds that are dry most of the year. So, if you're not careful, you can end up following the wrong 'trail' for about twenty minutes...until you realize that you haven't seen a marker the entire time. Of course this could be because the last one was obscured by a piece of brush which was also forest green...just like the trial marker. Or because you've been following a dry river bed and are now faced with a wall of thorn covered bushes signaling that you have indeed been going the wrong way. I have not taken any pictures from the valley floor, though I will shortly. 

This more or less sums up my first few days in Israel. Tomorrow I'll fill you all in on my trip to Nazareth. Until then--enjoy!