Kate's in the States (for a few more hours)

Today marks the final day of my East-coast tour. In a few hours, my parents will drop me off at the airport, where I will catch a flight to Heathrow and from there to Frankfurt. Tears will fall when I say goodbye to my folks, though I have been constantly reminding them (and myself) that I will see them again in just over a week. Yes, they are coming to visit and it is going to be wonderful!

In the past two weeks I have seen and done a lot. I went to my parents' beach house in North Carolina for the first time in a long time. I love spending time at the beach, and this trip was as much fun as trips from my childhood. I must admit, it would have been more fun if Pecos was there, but Rudy and Jackson were there to fill my doggy-needs. And, yes, I did just mention Pec being there and not Justin, but in my defense, Justin does not enjoy the beach as much as Pecos.

Our days were filled with pancake breakfasts, walks, reading, swimming in the ocean, taking the dogs to the sound, and eating Blizzards from DQ. While there, we also celebrated my father's birthday, and I was very happy I could be with him on his birthday.

After leaving North Carolina, I returned to Maryland for a few days to relax, catch up on work, and have a dental procedure. It was fun.

I spent this past week in Atlanta. I was there for work, and I must say I had a great time. The people I was working with were wonderful, and the work I was doing was interesting. I really had an awesome trip and hope to go back again next year.

I returned to Maryland on Thursday (actually 3 am on Friday, but we're not talking about that) and have spent the past few days with my family. My mom and I attended the Bodies exhibit yesterday and it was really cool. I also got to eat a Chipotle burrito and I am debating bringing one on the plane for Justin. In a few minutes, we're going to head out for one final game of disc golf before I cross the pond again.

My sentiment now is the same as in January. I am excited to get back to Justin and Pecos, but I am sad to leave Mom, Dad, and Edward. Fortunately, I will see my parents again before I know it. I just wish I knew when I'd see Edward again.

Mom, if you're crying now, knock it off and go fret about packing for your trip here.

Zion, part II

I read a lot of travel guides before heading to Israel. There’s a lot to see, you know, and I wanted to make sure I knew what I was looking at. But on Sunday morning when I got up to board the bus for my one-day tour of Jerusalem, I realized there was one thing I didn’t know. I had no idea what time zone I was in. This made for a confusing two-shower, short-nap morning, but I figured it out and in no time was on the road to see some history. Yerushaláyim, as it’s called in Hebrew, is Israel’s capital and largest city. It was a little over an hour from my hotel which allowed me to get to know a couple people sitting near me, including a Taiwanese fellow who worked for Texas Instruments, an Argentinian woman who was staying at an apartment with a couple of her New York City Jewish friends’ families, and a young couple from Latvia. Quite the international crowd.

The first sight we saw upon arrival after a couple enterprising Arabs tried to get us to pay to ride a camel was the Mount of Olives, a mountain ridge overlooking the Old City that has many biblical references, including where Jesus lived, taught, and prophesized.To me, the coolest thing about the Mount of Olives is that the Book of Zechariah foretells that, at the end of days, God will bring back to life all the “dry bones” buried here. As such, there are an estimated 150,000 Jews who are buried here, dating back to biblical time. Although you can’t see it clearly, the graves go all the way down the mountain, past the Garden of Gethsemane to the city walls.
Here’s a better picture of the graves themselves.
Afterward we went into the city to see several sights, including the alleged King David’s Tomb, done in a traditional Muslim way of making it look like the body is actually 20 feet long (which makes him seem more godlike). Here’s me in front of the massive tomb wearing a Kippah, also known as a yarmulka or as I like to call it, a Jew hat.
Next we went to the appropriately-named “Room of The Last Supper,” where Jesus celebrated Passover with a bunch of his Jewish buddies and, most likely while having a little too much vino, came up with the grand idea of symbolically eating his body and drinking his blood as a remembrance of him. Pretty morose commemoration if you ask me.

Here’s the Taiwanese guy getting attacked by his camera in there, which apparently wanted to eat his flesh and drink his blood.
Fittingly, the columns in the room are topped with this strange image of two birds eating the flesh of another. (Cue Twilight Zone tune). Next we went into the Old City where we witnessed firsthand a bit of discrimination. Sure, Israel is a county unashamedly founded on prejudice. But apparently this deliberate favoritism for Jews over everyone else has found its way into the psyche of the citizens of the country, one of whom (our guide, Ruvin) blatantly told us not to shop in any of the souqs or bazaars along the way into the Old City. No, no, he said. We’ll get a chance to shop later…in the Jewish Quarter.
Well, so be it. Who am I to say anything? I’m sure if I were on an Arab-language tour of the city it would be the opposite. Here’s me shopping in the Jewish Quarter.
We then made our way through some Roman ruins left over from the short-lived but devastating Roman rule, which ultimately led to the dispersion of the Jews around the world (as they weren’t allowed back in the city) and the destruction of the “Second Temple,” their holiest of holies.
From here, we went to the holiest of spots for Christians, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This site has many names: Place of the Skull…some reference to Adam’s skull; Golgotha (Aramaic for The Skull); the Church of the Resurrection (so say Eastern/Orthodox Christians); and Calvary (nothing to do with the Army). It’s here that the tomb of Jesus and a segment of the true cross are said to be. That is, at least according to Emperor Constantine’s mother, Saint Helena, a crazy Christian advocate who was the first to “discover” these sites (without doing much research) in the mid fourth century and claim them to be the Real McCoy. Helena, by the way, was the one most likely to convince her son to accept Christianity and mandate it as the new religion of the Roman Empire, which had, until then, been Pagan. Were it not for her, many scholars argue, Christianity would have been an esoteric, abortive religion.

So, it’s here in this gilded Byzantine-looking church that is now but wasn’t previously within the Old City walls, that Helena took several different sites (stations of the cross, if you will) and put them under one room:

1) The site crucifixion of Christ, which is stations 10-13, including where he was stripped (#10), nailed (#11), died (#12), and taken down (#13). 2) The Stone of Unction is where the body of Jesus was said to have been anointed and prepared for burial. An interesting fact here is that the rock smells like roses, which is an eerie connection to the Rose Line (Roslin) made famous in Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. Here you can see me sniffing dead Jesus. 3) The tomb where Jesus was buried and from which he disappeared. This had a long line to get in.
As I’m not a religious person, I stood nearby all these sites and waited for others, taking pictures of things like this: the Rotunda, which looks like it’s casting down love from heaven.
And this Brazilian guy arm wrestling Jesus.

Afterward, we walked down the Via Dolorosa (the opposite way Jesus went) and saw a bunch of other stations of the cross.

Including this one where Veronica (meaning True (Vera) Face (Icon) in Latin) wiped Jesus’s dirty face.
And this one, where Jesus put his hand on the wall. Apparently this isn’t a station, but it sure is old. Then we were on our way to the Western Wall (also known as the Wailing Wall), the last site on our tour. But first, we walked by some Jewish stands selling these funny-looking but traditional sesame seed bagels.
Finally, we were at the wall, which is the only remaining wall of the Second Temple, which housed the Ark of the Covenant – the Holy of Holies to Jews. Here’s me placing a prayer in the wall (tradition, I hear) way above the grime line which no doubt developed from hundreds of years of touching.
Before calling it a day, we drove by another western wall, this one the very prison-like wall that divides the West Bank from Israel. After that, we had lunch and spent about 1.5 hours at the newly built holocaust museum. The day was busy, but I still had a week of work ahead of me. Oy vey!

Zion, part I

When people hear the word “Zion,” the thought that most likely enters someone’s head is Israel. Or at least something to do with “the holy land” or spirituality, right?

Well, ironically, as I waited to board my flight to Tel Aviv from Frankfurt last week, the word Zion was inextricably and inexplicably linked to a different meaning: Reggae.

Why, you ask? Because as I was leafing through one of the many expensive, ad-heavy magazines at the airport (the only English-language magazines they have there other than Playboy), a Jamaican-accented black dude with long dreads kept disturbing my concentration by asking the German counter lady about putting minutes on his Vodafone cell phone. Of course, the LEFT-RIGHT-LEFT-RIGHT lady knew more about the rules of international cell phone usage more than the guy with the actual phone. Of course. That’s how these ACHTUNG-NEIN people can be sometimes. And, because she knew so much more about this guy’s phone than he did, she refused to sell him a card, claiming that it wouldn’t work on his phone. The nerve of this lady!

Desperate to communicate in this lady’s language and just buy the goddamned $20 card anyway, he walked up to me, a straight-laced Germanic-looking fellow, and introduced himself, claiming he was the drummer in the Marley band.

Just then, another long-haired fellow walked by and said “hurry up, man” to the guy who’d just got my attention. “We gotta plane to catch.” It was Ziggy Marley, himself.

So, impatiently now, the Jamaican asked if I could translate his anxiety to her, saying that he’d buy the card anyway, even if it didn’t work on his phone. He was distressed. Almost panicky. “Of course,” I said. I’d translate.

So I did. But, as culture would have it, Zee Cherman lady won out and refused to sell me the card, as she knew it wouldn’t work on his phone. No matter what I said or how I pleaded for this guy I’d just met but wanted desperately to befriend, the lady was relentlessly stubborn. Ah, that’s the culture here, I said to the percussionist. Just hop on your plane and buy a card in your next destination. Perhaps you’ll have better luck there. Perhaps you’ll chill out and be closer the peace that your band’s forefather sung about. Zion. OK, so at least it made sense to me.

Later, I boarded my Austrian Air flight to Tel Aviv, which had an almost comical layover in Vienna where the pilots circled the airport at least four times, daredeviling turns like Snoopy chasing the Red Baron. On my flight into Israel I sat next to two twentysomething Israeli girls attending English-language veterinarian school in Slovakia who were eager to tell me all about the historic/cultural/hip places I should visit in their homeland while there. It was nice getting the attention of the girls, who were obviously interested in ensuring I made the most of my time in their country, but because I was only going for work and really only giving myself a day of “vacation,” there wasn’t much I could do other than thank them for their guidance and give them my phone number. Ha! Just kidding, Kate.

As I found out from them, Israel has a conscripted military, meaning everyone must serve for at least two years. And, as I found out later by going to several Israeli Army sites where our U.S. Army Corps of Engineers sites are located, this includes every able-bodied 18- to 20-year-old female in Israel. Much like the well-off but derogatorily-termed Jewish American Princesses in the States, Israel has its own version of the nicely-dressed, well coiffed, and attractive JAPs: the girls of the IDF.

Interestingly enough, I saw in the airport that Maxim magazine had a spread in their July 2007 issue about “The Chosen Ones: The Girls of the IDF,” featuring many scantily clad privates (that’s not just a reference to the rank in the military, you know….).

So, as the plane landed at Ben Gurion airport at the heart of Israel, I thanked the ladies for their advice and looked out the window to see my home for the next couple days. The parched scrubby land of Israel….pockmarked by years of qassam missiles crashing in from Gaza and the West Bank. This dry and desolate place was the holy land, I thought? This is Zion?


The first thing I did after getting ripped off by the taxi driver who insisted on haggling for cab fare was exit my hotel room in the posh resort town of Herzliya and head straight for the beach. With my board shorts on and my SPF 30 lathered in unquestionable asymmetrical dollops all over my face, I made the 30 meter trek over perhaps the softest sand I’ve ever walked on to the where the ocean meets the land and placed my bag down. I was ready for swimming.

Most likely I was perceptibly uneasy after my run-in with floating poop in the Black Sea. But while the vast majority of beachgoers were sunning themselves in the 5 p.m. sun setting majestically over the Eastern Mediterranean, there were thankfully still a few surfers in the tepid water. This eased my nerves and allowed me to stay in for a full twenty minutes or so, riding the gentle waves in and just taking in the beauty of the scenery. Perfectly velvety sand. A perfect water temperature. Perfect waves. People seemed to be staring at me enjoying myself so much. Of the 500 people on that part of the beach that afternoon, I was one of only four or five people in the water, the rest of whom were surfers. What was wrong with these people, I thought. The water’s perfect….. Ah, well. More for me.

Satisfied after a relaxing meditation of sand and surf, I found myself 30 minutes later walking along the “boardwalk” of the Tel Aviv suburb to a nearby mall. Apparently the “hip” thing to do in Israel is go shopping in these malls, which mind-numbingly resemble in size and scope a typical mall in the States. The interest to Israelis is that they don’t have malls in Europe or the Middle East. Only in Israel. So why not enjoy, right?

On my way there I noticed this sign, which almost blew my mind. It was like the god of poop was ridiculing me for snickering at his work all these years. It was the second dose of dookie-contaminated water (in two completely separate bodies of water) in two weeks. That’s why there weren’t many people in the water. What are the odds?

Traumatized, I dropped my camera right next to this sign, which most likely says “Don’t drop your camera here, stupid.” (Big points for anyone who can read this sign!)

I was trying to take this picture, which didn’t even turn out very well. It’s just that the buds smelled absolutely delicious I had to get a shot of me sniffing them.

The mall itself was nothing special…just a typical Spencer’s Goods, Orange Julius, Pacific Sunwear, Claire’s Boutique kind of place…but all in Hebrew. Here’s me apparently striking some sort of military pose near an escalator. Perhaps I wanted to connect to the hot IDF girls I’d seen in Maxim magazine. Or perhaps I’m just a naturally bouncy guy. Later that afternoon, as the sun was setting behind the foamy and fecal Mediterranean, I went for a long run up the coast, toward the ancient city of Apollonia. About 100 feet straight down the cliff from these ruins lying scattered in the coastal waters were the shambled remains of columns, ramparts, and parapets. Smoothed out by about 800 years of waves, these ancient earthenworks still resembled the battlements they once were. Although it was sad that these archaic fortifications were being clobbered by a ceaseless ocean tide, it was beautiful to walk among them. Most of the columns, brick foundations, and earthen walls were over my head and had fallen in an almost perfect slalom, which made walking through them an absolute joy. I sat on top of one of them for a couple minutes, contemplating how lucky I was to be here and how perfect this moment seemed. Other than the contaminated water, what a great trip this was already turning out to be.

As the sun was setting, I quickly ended my meditation and ran back along the beach toward my hotel. Every once in a while the steep cliffs would part and a narrow rift would open up between the sheer walls, making what appeared to be a well-worn path into and up the rock face. “I wonder what’s in there,” I thought to myself. So, wasting no time as daylight was dear, I jogged in. Within four seconds I stopped dead in my tracks. Around the first corner was a man wanking his jollies into another man’s mouth. OK, I thought. Stay on the main roads.....

Scared that they’d seen me and that they’d follow me for telling the world about their “secret” spot, I turned around and ran faster than I’d ever run before, determined to get back to the hotel in record time. I ran so fast I barely made note of the fact that I’d almost died when I breathed in a small bug through one nostril and forced it out through the other. On any other day, I’d sing about this feat for hours. But after seeing what I saw, I couldn’t appreciate even the amusing tale of bugs traveling through my skull. Ziggy Marley, poopy water, gay love…. It had been a long day and I was ready for bed. Tomorrow would be better, I thought. Tomorrow I’d be in Jerusalem. Tomorrow I’d be in Zion. And apparently looking very much like a girl.

Kate's in the States

While Justin has been enjoying swimming with poop, I have been in the States, spending time with family and friends. I arrived in Maryland on June 26th and won't fly back to Germany until July 22nd. One would think a month home would be more than enough time; let me tell you, it's not.

Similarly to when I came home over Christmas, I have a packed schedule. I did some complex calculations (involving counting on my fingers while brushing my teeth) and I realized that the most consecutive nights I am going spend in any one place is five. And those five nights aren't even here at my parents' house, but instead are in Georgia, where I'm heading for work. So, here is a quick rundown of what I've done in the past week.

A few days after arriving in Maryland I flew up to Pittsburgh to see Liz. We visited all of our usual haunts (Target, DSW, Marshalls, DSW, TJ Maxx, DSW, and Ross), ate brownies, played with Lucy (shown below), watched bad movies, and talked a lot. I am really glad I was able to go visit Liz and catch up. It is great to see Liz, Lucy, and their home (which looks very nice).

I am also glad I got to see this squirrel mural in Liz's neighborhood, Lawrenceville. We had a good Italian lunch right across the street from the mural, and I think we were both a bit distracted by the menacing looks from the pink squirels.

After flying back to Maryland, I had a one night "layover" at my parents' house, and then headed down to Barbara and Bill's. I always have a great time at their house and this trip was no exception. We didn't do anything too exciting (save a trip to the vet with the neighbor's dog), just ate, talked, shopped, played cards, and harassed Justin on speakerphone. It was a nice relaxing trip and I am glad I will get to see Barbara and Bill again before I leave. Here's a picture of them looking very patriotic on Fourth of July morning.

I left Barbara and Bill's to return to my parents' house to spend the Fourth with them and Edward. We took a family trip out to the Discgolf course, where we determined that I defy the rules of Physics. Backhands are supposed to curve left, but mine curve right, and forehands should curve right, but mine curve left. Regardless, we had a great time playing.

**Please note my parents' patriotic garb for the Fourth of July. Mom is carrying a French toile bag and wearing a shirt from Bratislava, Slovakia. Dad is wearing an Aruba hat and a shirt depicting a German dog. We had a good giggle over that.**

In other exciting news, I bought a new camera (used to take these pictures) and I like it. Hopefully Justin will too.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and are having a great summer.